Summary: A Personal Experience As An Immigrant

Hello reader, I’m about to tell you a story of some of my life. I am not normally one to volunteer details about myself, which I’ll remain somewhat reserved or completely leave some events out of this autobiography. Nonetheless, I believe I can still make my story interesting for the reader. I was born 1979, in Tampa, Florida; which, is also the same day my biological father decided to leave my mother and I. My mother isn’t a native Floridian, but had moved there with her family when she was still an infant, and had spent most of her life growing up in Florida. Needless to say, my father leaving was not an exciting time for my mother and I. Although she was employed Jimmy Cater was president and had taken the nation into

“Mom, will I ever be treated as a regular person? When will I be like the others without people look at me in a strange way and make fun of me, when mom? When?” Those were the questions I did to my mom almost every day after getting home from school. Fourteen years ago that my parents brought me to this country offering a better life with better opportunities than where I was born. I was seven years old when came to the United States, but I still remember the happiness I felt when I first step in this country. Throughout the years, I have realize that not everything is easy and simple as I imagined. My parents worked in the fields because of the lack of a social security and not knowing how to speak English. Many Americans do not know how hard it is the life of an immigrant, they should have a consideration for us and not just blame us for the deviance of the United States.

Humanity is ever so much more complicated than one could have ever imagined. Humans can thrive on change, but ultimately look for something to declare as home. In search of this home people travel long distances and risk everything they have. When an American contemplates the word immigrant, one imagines the countless people from Mexico crossing into our country or the refugees that hope to make this country their home. What eludes most of us, however, is the reality that most people were, at one point, immigrants to this country and that our forefathers came here exactly the same as refugees come today. What is brought to mind when I hear the word immigrant is hope and perseverance. I remember the countless people who have traveled here

The preliminary hearing is then held which determines if the prosecution obtained enough evidence and has enough probable cause to hold a trial (Schmalleger, 2008). Discovery, which refers to the first time the defense is allowed to view the evidence against the accused occurs at this stage (Schmalleger, 2008). The next step is arraignment; this is the first time the defendant is seen by a judge with enough authority to hold a trial (Schmalleger, 2008). At arraignment, the indictment against the accused is read; the accused enters a plea of either guilty, not guilty or no contest (Schmalleger, 2008). The last step involving the court is adjudication, which plainly means a trial by jury (Schmalleger, 2008). The trial then proceeds until both sides have presented their case and the jury reaches a decision (Schmalleger, 2008). If the jury cannot reach a decision the judge can declare a mistrial and the case can be retried (Schmalleger, 2008). If the accused waives the right to a trial by jury, the court will hold a bench trial which is a trial conducted and decided upon by the judge (Schmalleger, 2008).

On a random Thursday morning in the middle of October, I became an orphan. I have always been independent and mature from a young age, but all that changed on a crisp day in November when I learned what it means to grow up. Something typically marked by a Bat Mitzvah or the acquisition of a driver’s license was, for me, marked by the arrest of my single mother.

Today, I witnessed a young woman with her little daughter dropped multiple hundred bills in the parking lot prior to getting in her car. An associate saw the woman dropped her money and tried to get her attention, but was successful, so he puts the money in his pocket. I instantly approached the woman and briefly told her what I just witnessed. She asked me to go back to the store with her to vouch for her to the store manager. I agreed. Once we informed the store manager and confronted the associate who put the money inside his pocket instead of reporting it to security or his manger. She was able to procure her money back. Then, she told me I was a life saver. The woman explained to me she just got laid and really needed the money to support

A year and a half ago I moved from Venezuela to the US with my family; since then I have tried my best to make this sacrifice worth it and make my family proud. Leaving everything that you own behind and moving somewhere new with only a couple of luggage with you is extremely difficult economically, which is why my family is currently experiencing financial difficulties that make it more difficult for me to be able to afford the costs of a good college education. I currently work 3 jobs cleaning houses to help my family, however, it is still not enough to afford a college education. Being an immigrant is a part of my identity and it has shaped my character into what I believe is a hard-working student and person. At West Marshall high school

Being an immigrant is not easy, specially when you have to adapt to another environment. Learning english was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. Every time someone spoke to me english, l began to get frustrated. Sometimes I used google translator to do the assignments and projects that they give me, and sometimes my classmate would translate for me the english sentence my teacher spoke, And it would help my english get better.

I was following the heartbreaking news of Immigration crisis in Europe and watching that how these desperate people struggling to save their lives and find a better life in nearby countries, that the photo of my parents and I in a hand curved frame right next to my computer caught my attention and reminded me of my own journey as a refugee.

Being an immigrant is a mind numbing experience. I didn't know a speck of english and I barely understood my teacher. I had to adjust to the whole new culture. But at age 6 that was easy. I quickly figured out that in here we didn’t have to pray every monday. I didn’t have to put on a uniform everyday. I can easily get free food from the cafeteria when my mother signed me up for the free lunch program. In America I didn’t have to smell the canal and street trash anymore. In just 3 weeks my whole life changed. I got used to it for about 2 years, then I had to go back. Back to the gang-filled, starving, broken house that I was born in.

I’m juror number eleven I immigrated from Europe to the US I work as a watchmaker.I believe in the justice system in America and will see that it gets carried out fairly and properly. I’m quite, polite, honest, educated, and I’m observant to all the facts, I will take everything into consideration before making a decision on a verdict.As I said before Im quiet and poliet I keep to myself untill I am asked to speak or when details need to be remembered and I treat everyone one with respect. At first I believed that the defendant was guilty but as we deliberated I came to see that there was a reasonable doubt that the defendant was innocent.

When I arrived at the parents’ house, the children were not present. The mother, father and parental grandmother were the only three in the home at the time. The house appeared to be clean. When I entered the home, the mother stated that the children were about to pull up with the aunt. I waited in the living room for the children to arrive. The mother went into the kitchen to cook some breakfast. A couple minutes later, the aunt arrived with the children. The mother had answered the door, and helped the aunt with the youngest baby. The children were happy to see the mother answer the door. The mother gave hugs to the two youngest daughters. The mother took the baby out the car seat and held him as she sat on the couch. The two daughters were

My dad teaching me how to drive is a dream. Seeing him come home every night from work is a dream. His attendance at my graduation later this year is a dream.

Throughout last generation, immigration has been vital for my family- my mother is an immigrant, and so are my paternal grandparents. Being Mexican immigrants in a land that does not accept you is hard; I’ve seen the struggles firsthand. Like my grandparents, my mother did not have many opportunities once she entered the United States. She came seeking to start a career and make a name for herself, yet ended up being an assistant manager at Wal-Mart. Nonetheless, she has worked hard alongside my father to provide the best for my brother and I. But I know if she was a white American without a Mexican accent,

When the lands check out and take the crops with it the whole family living off of it was not only out of a job but also a way of life. I can relate to this though my father losing his job and my view on virtually everything being shattered or distorted in some way. When the land dried up and killed the crop is representative of the breadwinner losing their job though some circumstance. I connected this to when the recession was in full swing my father unfortunately was laid off and my mother was left to support our whole family on her retail job. Both the Joads and my family were left down stream without a paddle by some form of unforeseen circumstance. Before my father lost his job i had a view similar to almost every kid that their parents