I walked into class, still half asleep on a foggy Monday morning. Up front, I spotted an unfamiliar face, glancing over a wooden podium. Oh great.. .a substitute teacher. Right away, she began calling out names in alphabetical order to take attendance. Dread crept over me as I waited for my turn. Soon, a frown appeared following a brief pause. I winced, bracing for disaster.
"Ching....Jang.....Gong?" stumbled out of her mouth; the pronunciation of my name was miles off. I froze. Stunned. Unable to respond.
Since moving to the United States at the age of seven, my authentic Chinese name has slowly turned into a burden. "Xingjian Gong," originally inspired by a
Chinese folktale, means "actively seeking challenges." But in a strange world far away from
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In my mind, two worlds were colliding, each one fighting for my undivided attention. Of course I missed eating delicious Chinese dishes for lunch and wearing my favorite home-sewn sweater, but the ridicule I would receive was unbearable. To get my classmates' attention in school, I would frequently act out or disrupt class, which only widened the divide between me and my peers. On most nights, I took care of myself while my parents worked long hours. Here in
America, I felt like an actor, constantly playing another character. No matter how well I played my role, I was just not myself.
To start afresh, to dig myself out of a huge mess, to finally embrace my foreign identity, I developed a new mindset: taking initiative, joining extracurricular activities, as well as engaging in class discussions. Every day is a series of challenges, a test of sheer willpower: a burnt-out brain teetering on the edge of collapse in chess, a tired body fighting an urge to sleep, and muscles straining to keep up with a plyometric workout -- but I naturally gravitate towards challenging opportunities. I find success through perseverance, above all, is most satisfying. By stepping out of my
I remember the first time I came to America; I was 10 years old. Everything was exciting! From getting into an airplane, to viewing magnificent, huge buildings from a bird’s eye view in the plane. It was truly memorable. After staying few days at my mother’s house, my father and I wanted to see what Dallas looks like. But because my mother was working the whole day, it wasn’t convenient for her to show us the area except only on Sundays. Finally, we went out to the nearby mall with my mother. My father and I were astonished after looking at a variety of stores. But after looking at different stores, we were finally tired and hungry, so we went into McDonald’s. Not being familiar with fast food restaurants, we were curious to try American
I froze. I felt my smile fading away and my tendency to overthink going into action immediately. What do I do? What if I say something wrong? What if I don’t do enough? Other underclassmen often asked me about my experience in certain classes
In the beginning of September 2005, disappointment and excitement revealed on my face when I boarded the plane to move to the United States of America. The feeling of leaving my families, friends, school, clothes, and culture in Cameroon presented a hardship for me on this journey. Of course, I anticipated this new life because it indicated a fresh start. I envisioned it resembling life in movies, where everything appeared to be simple and life was simply excellent. All things considered, I was heading off to the United States, known for the American dream. To me it meant that everyone is given equal opportunity to prosper, achieve a family, and attain a successful job as long as they are hardworking and determined. I felt exceptionally honored and blessed to have this open door since I realized that it was not provided to everybody. Coming to America denoted my transitioning on the grounds that I deserted my previous lifestyle in Cameroon, began a new chapter in my life once again, and finally became a much grateful individual.
Separated from my mother for eight years. When I moved to America, every day I missed her so much and growing without her was challenging. I know she’s a great mother. She was born in the Philippines in 1971. She graduated from college with a degree in midwifery. My parents had a comfortable life but they wanted some better opportunities for us four kids. So my parents decided to move to the United States.
I’ve lived in Palestine the first eleven years of my life. I stayed there and went to school
I didn’t know whether to walk out or to stay in my classroom. There were many outside influences that wanted kids to stay in or walk out of class. Many of my friends went out. There were also some friends who stayed in class. All of this brought on a big conversation between me and my parents.
As I reach the door of my new classroom, I peer through the glass, see
I always dreamed about the day I will be able to come to the United States. Everything started at the age of 15 playing a soccer tournament in my country against FC Dallas. I arrived at the stadium and saw a bus arriving at the same time, I wondered who was arriving in such a beautiful bus, it was the FC Dallas soccer team U15. They were all dressed up with the same uniforms wearing head phones and the coaches started to give water bottles to the players, I was amazed because they all looked like a professional team. Drinking water from a bottle something that I did only a couple times in my all life living in my country. My team had barely had enough uniforms for us to play the game and they even had uniforms to get
It was a lot. My mom was good at working behind the scene. I and my brother still went to school, had food on
The classroom was filled to the max with the posters we had to make about ourselves and cabinets with books, movies and school supplies. I sat down at my assigned seat just staring off into space waiting for class to start. When class started I had to stand for the pledge of allegiance and then listen to the school announcements. The questions were set in front of me and I was off.
I tried not to get distracted in my morning classes and pay attention to what I was learning. After what felt like forever, I finally arrived at the last class of the day; honors english 10. I entered the classroom and talked with my friends. I always dreaded this class, but they made it better. When class started, the teacher told us that we would be debating with another student on a topic pulled from a basket.
My heart was pounding as I boarded my flight leaving the Bangkok International Airport. A flight attendant in a grey dress with a red bow draped over her shoulder announced; “Welcome aboard flight AA350 to the United States.” My journey began that day.
It was about 1:30 AM. "Well, its time to hit the sack," I thought. I had had a really long day. I had been in school since 8 AM and I was truly exhausted.
When I first got to the classroom the students were doing a listening exercise and had to answer same question the teacher wrote on the board. At a certain time they all were allowed to go to the bathroom. Each student was given a responsibility in the classroom.
To be the person that I am now, I had to reflect and accept accountability of my past actions. My past is one that many would love to erase from their memory, a past, which remained dormant, until I found myself. The steps involved in regaining myself encompassed letting go of my anger and self pity. I had to look within myself and see my self’s worth, which lead to my belief that I ran away to college to forget my past. During the years leading to entrance to college, I became caught up with friends, cared way too much about my appearance, and became “that girl” who needed others to be happy. I lost sight of my goal, to become a lawyer. My goals were buried by my present materialization infatuation, thus my dreams, and my values, failed just to create a façade of which I came to despise. Through my journey and reflection, I came to appreciate family values and redemption. Like others, my trials and tribulations came full circle.