A New Start I grew up in a Spanish speaking family. My dad didn’t know any English, my mom only knew a little English and my brothers knew English. Since my brothers were 9 years older than me, they didn’t pay me much attention, unless they were picking on me.
Growing up in the poor sections of Queens, New York was loud. As I woke up from the top bunk bed of my parents’ room, the first thing I heard is my neighbors yelling, Spanish music blasting, and car horns beeping. That was always my alarm clock. I look down and see my mom picking out my clothes, “Michelle levantate!” my mom yelled at me to wake me up. I went down the bunk bed stairs and she brushed my hair and got me ready for school. My dad or my brothers usually walked me to school
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It was too quiet, too many white people. And the house was so much bigger than the little apartment I lived in. John’s parents were living there and I slowly started to care for them as well. My new grandpa, an Italian man with so many stories and jokes to tell me was always so kind to me. I was his first granddaughter and he would sit with me every day after school to read a book series called FlatFoot Fox so I could improve my reading. At first, he used to read to me and I would follow along then I started reading. He would help me sound out any word I didn’t know. He would also help me with all my homework and made sure I did it all.
My new school was bigger, and they had so many books, art supplies, and games. I was put into a reading class as soon as I arrived at this new school. I was my reading teacher’s favorite student. I always sat next to her and she made sure that spot was never taken so I could sit there. I felt obligated to make her proud and I always volunteered to read even though I had to sound out most words and read very slowly. During parent teacher conferences, she would tell my mom and John what a great student I was and how much I was improving. I was so proud of myself and I kept pushing myself to try
For as long as I can remember learning how to read and write was a real challenge for me. When I first arrived in the United States I was enrolled at the nearby elementary school. Being from another country I was scared and embarrassed because I was different then the other children in my class. Talking and communicating with others was something that wasn't in the interest of what I wanted to do. I sat far away from others depriving myself of what they were doing or learning. Coming from Mexico and going to a school where no other children would speak the same language that I would or even play the way I did made me believe that I was some sort of thing that didn't belong. All these contributed to a low esteemed child that was unable to communicate. The world I was in suddenly became a place that I didn't know. To the kids and others in my class I was an illiterate person.
My parents did everything they knew to help my sister and I learn and respect our Mexican culture. Born into American culture but raised by Hispanic parents, often was difficult for me. Since I was little I had to manage and balance two very different cultures at the same time. There were many times while growing up that I encountered complex situations in regards to language, whether to speak Spanish or English and when it was appropriate. I felt a lot of pressure having to act as an interpreter for my parents when we were out in public. At home I was told to speak Spanish so I would not forget, but at school I was taught to only speak English with my teachers and friends. However, when we would go visit family in Mexico, I was expected to only speak in Spanish, since speaking in English in front of family members who only spoke Spanish was seen as disrespectful. So learning two languages has been very beneficial to my life and for my family. By
The following Monday my mother taken me to the bus stop to be sent to the school. Once I boarded the bus, I immediately felt uncomfortable as I had clearly drawn attention from the group. The trip became longer that I expected because tensions had become higher as even more eyes had be drawn to where I was sitting and with every second my heart began to race faster until we reached our destination and I left the bus to go to school and there I stood at Wolf-ever Creek elementary
Summer vacation, and school ends for about three months, and then you have as much fun as you can, then back to school… right? Well I had to go to summer school, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everything was going fine, I had a job after summer school, and that was going fine as well. They say that summer is supposed to be fun and exciting, and it usually is for me and my family. However in July my father started coughing up blood. My father usually doesn’t make it his top priority to go to the doctors, so he waited about four weeks until he really didn’t feel good.
How would I feel I someone I loved died? It is not a question that most people ask themselves frequently, but it is one that often comes up when they read or hear about a notable person that has passed or was killed, or even just a news story about a woman who lost her son. I had the unfortunate experience of discovering what that felt like firsthand.
A lesson that I learned for good. When I was five years old and the year it was 2005. Me and my mother were home like any other day. It was a Monday morning and everyone left the house except for me and my mother. The reason why we were the only ones left is, because my sister was at the age where she could go to school. As for my father well he’s the man of the house so he has to go to work.
A thin, brown stick glows. From its tip exudes a discreet swirling trail of smoke, as if from a genie’s lamp. The subtle spice of incense tingles my nose, and triggers an intense feeling of dromomania, the desire and longing for travel. My mind wanders off, and I find myself back in Vietnam, at the sacred Thien Mu Pagoda, where a field of bright orange incense sticks, set in a large bronze basin, glow against the hazy, muggy dusk. About me are Buddhist monks, some perched amidst the lush, green gardens; and others in a group over in a tiled, rectangular courtyard, immersing themselves in an intense, but friendly, game of soccer. The vision fades, and my nose transports me to the bustling streets of the Old Quarter of Hanoi where the sweet and
Since I was little I have always known that I did not want a desk job. I have always loved using my hands to build things or to solve problems. But I didn’t like the idea of a construction job, or standing in a plant and watching things go down an assembly line. I wanted something that would keep me on my toes, as in different every day, and allowed me to do something that I could see the result of my work soon after. I just couldn’t find the right job; nothing sounded good to me. That was until one day my dad needed help with some wiring in an extension we were doing to my house. I thought that it was kind of fun. It was cool to me that we could install lights, switches, and outlets. So, from then on I decided that I would like to
In the future, those I love will feel pain. My friends and family will all hurt. I’m so sorry. I’ve battling self-confidence issues since i can remember. When sophomore year started, I knew something was wrong. I felt lonely and worthless. Every day I would wake up and prepare to act as if I were someone else so everyone at school wouldn't know that something was wrong. It started as random thoughts of self-mutilation often popping up in class and scaring me. Every time those thoughts would pop up I would just imagine shooting myself and they would go away. Over the course of time, these thoughts progressed from self-mutilation to suicide. Every night I would think about it in the shower and before I went to sleep. After some time,
The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. When I first went into high school, I had no interest in going to college, and since I wasn't going to college, I didn't feel the need to do any of my work - or study for my tests. I did this the whole year, and the year after that. At the end of the second year of high school I found out that I was going to fail the second quarter of Algebra 2. I had to spend my own $200 on one summer school class for three weeks because I didn't care enough to care about my grades.
“You got him! Nice shot man! You did amazing on it,” my brother congratulated me.
Last year was actually one of my best years in high school. I was much more focused on passing and getting into my books but I was more focused on getting everything done. My junior and sophomore year were pretty much tied in together since I was trying to get everything done to be in my right graduating class my senior year. I wanted to make sure that I got all of the credits I needed to graduate with my class. Last year I was in the tenth grade because I did not do so good in my ninth grade year the first time so I had to repeat the ninth grade because of this last year was a lot tougher than it probably should have been. That made no difference in how dedicated I was to do everything I had to do to get thirteen credits by the end of the year.
My father and brothers would smile and nod along but I knew that they did not understand a single word of what I was saying. There is a huge disadvantage of growing up in the United States and being raised by my single Native American mother: I only speak English. I’ve never learned how to speak Spanish and only knew the occasional phrase like “hola, como estas?” or “donde es baño?” My Spanish teacher growing up was Dora the
There is a point in everyone’s life when they step back and realize “I can’t do this anymore, it’s ruining my life”. Many of my friends have started smoking cigarettes while drinking at a very young age, and continue to use this drug currently and don’t realize the affect it has on their future. While I have been smart enough to avoid smoking, I haven’t been as wise at making decisions when it comes to drinking. The amount of partying I’ve done in college has taken over my life, and has had a huge impact on my grades. Changing my drinking habits and continuing to avoid cigarettes will enable me to be the best I can be for the rest of my college experience.
I am by myself wearing my blue jeans and an old flannel shirt. It is cool outside but I decided to leave my gloves at home, feeling comfortable with my warm shirt and my sturdy boots.