The Vietnam War Is Better For My Parents

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The Vietnam war started in 1954 to 1975. During this war, the Vietnamese Soldiers invaded a few towns in Laos. Some of these towns they invaded were towns my parents lived as kids. They grew up in different towns and refugee camps, but they went through similar journeys to get to America. As kids they ran miles across the jungle with their families to get to the Mekong River. Running through the jungle to get to the river took days. These days were the worst because there were no food to eat on this long walk. A lot of Hmong families who ran away from the Vietnamese soldiers didn’t make it far, or they died of starvation. My parents and their families were fortunate enough to had made it safely to the Mekong river without any harm done to …show more content…

In third grade I was enrolled in an ESL (English as a Second Language) class. My teacher was Hmong and he would always speak Hmong to us and tell us to respond back to him. It was the first day of class when he asked me “ Nyob zoo, koj lub npe hu li cas?” (Hello, what is your name?) I would answer “My name is Toni Kong.” He would then tell me to repeat myself until I answered back in Hmong. I did use to hate him because when he made me speak in Hmong I felt embarrassed because I wouldn’t be able to answer back, unlike the other kids but this is a common case for a lot of first and second generation Hmong kids. The reason for this is moving to America and learning how to speak English. As English is spoken more often of form of communication with other people, overtime people forget how to speak their native language because it isn’t spoken on a daily basis anymore.
My reason for losing how to speak my native language would be because of my grandmother. As a child my siblings and I grew up living with my grandmother. She raised us since we were babies. She came to America when she was about thirty and my dad was in his teenage years. My grandmother never went to school and was never able to learn how to speak English, therefore the only way to communicate with her was if we spoke Hmong. Growing up, my grandmother and I would do everything together. She had her own small room in our house. She had a small bed, and

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