Illegal Immigrants: Personal Experience

In this country, there are around twelve million illegal immigrants, four weeks ago I was part of the statistic. I entered this land of opportunities in my adolescence; I was fourteen years old when my mother brought me to the US to live at my grandmother's little apartment. My mother, fearful of the incremental delinquency in Mexico, decided for both us. I did not know how to speak English. I knew just the fundamental stuff they taught in Mexico's public schools, which is basically nothing. As a result, the school district of Los Fresnos placed me in eight grade instead of the ninth grade, which was the actual grade I was in before coming to the United States.
My first days of school were harsh. I recall that during my first day, in all my classes, I just observed the blackboard, with my watery eyes, wanting to cry out of despair.

I defeated the teacher assistant's statement; I didn't have to go to summer school. In fact, I finished the class with an A. I continued working hard; I learned English in one year. In my first year of high school, I was taking most pre-AP classes. Then, I was taking all pre-AP classes, before I knew I was taking AP classes and obtaining a four on my AP US exam. I did all of that to distract my mind, to make it oblivious that I was an illegal immigrant living in this beautiful country.
Although I was in the process of becoming a resident, there was still a chance that the U.S. Consulate in CD. Juarez could deny my green card; not being legal in this country is like having the most precious dream of success, when suddenly you wake up to find out that everything was an illusion. I started to wake up from my dream; my mind could not take any more illusions. Senior year was just around the corner and my dreams of going to college seemed to fade away. I was once again trapped in a hole. The only thing that could save me was becoming a permanent resident before