Personal Narrative: My German Culture

What is culture? Culture is the idea of what is wrong or right, the concept of what is acceptable within our society. Culture serves us as a guide, taking us to the "right way" and helping us to make sense of things that surrounds us. There are many different cultures around the world. A lot of them are similar in specific ways and others are just completely different, this difference explains why we think that people from different backgrounds are "weird".

In 8th grade, instead of baking cookies or cake in cooking class or drawing pictures in art, I took German 1 to put myself in the position to be placed in AP German my senior year. My freshman and sophomore years of high school I took Photography to work towards taking AP 2D Studio Art along with other AP/accelerated sciences, maths, and english classes. Certainly, there are other students that took just as difficult of courses that I did, but I pushed myself to excel in other courses that others may not have taken.

My “outside” cultural influences I have: America is one of the most ethnically diverse countries in the world culturally. We have German-Americans speaking German, Filipino-Americans speaking Tagalog, Irish-Americans speaking Irish, Scandinavian-Americans speaking Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, etc., Welsh-Americans speaking Welsh, Japanese-Americans speaking Japanese, Iraqi-Americans speaking Arabian, Mexican-Americans speaking Spanish, and all Americans united in the common goal to create the best possible nation in accordance with our Constitution.

The Father/Daughter Dance was very nice. Mr. Rau stated that it was his first time being able to attend and he thoroughly enjoyed it with his girls. Mr. Rau gave kudos to everyone at WTC that helped put it together. The gym looked amazing.

The part of this experience that was the most compelling to me was almost the sense of community that I felt was just there between the gay community. Like there were a lot of groups of people there that night that didn’t even know each other, but you would never guess that by the way they acted like they had been friends for years. Even towards me and my roommate who they didn’t know, was just some straight stranger walking in and “observing” them they were so nice and accepting. They were willing to let us into their environment, knowing that we were not a part of it and I felt no judgment or anything. My fears that I had felt earlier in the day before going were put to rest, while some people were unusually friendly to me no girls really tried to hit on me, which was really relieving.

It was my first time going geese hunting with a shotgun. I was really nervous to going because my uncle and my grandpa are really good at it. They go every weekend and more than half of the time they get their lemont. Also I was very excited to go just growing up going and always watching them going hunting with guns and i always watched. I was getting tired of it. I thought it was time for me to have a gun and on more messing around as much

Is usual to hear people associating common behaviors from a cultural background to how they expect an individual to act and react to certain situations. So I was really curious to see the results of the self-assessment comparing me to my cultural profile. I was born in Venezuela, and I lived there for most of my life, for that reason I wasn’t really surprised when my answers were almost the same to my cultural norm. The dimensions that I’m most similar to are in leading, trusting, disagreeing, evaluating, and persuading. In “leading”, the scale measures between egalitarian and hierarchical, and my cultural norm and individual answer is more hierarchical than egalitarian. Also, in “trusting” Venezuelans (including me) are definitely a relationship based society, where trust is built by affective connection, for example is very common that most of the business partnerships in Venezuela are made between friends and family rather than with individuals with

I was born in the summer of 1964, to lower middle class parents, my mother was divorced with having left three young sons behind with her first husband. My father owned a very popular gas station and repair shop, by birth being the result of a torrid love affair, this topic remained in the gossip pool well into my twenties. I was kept in the dark until Jr. high school, my mother was forced to tell me part of her truth, after the principal sent a note home. My mother suffered from depression and substance abuse as a coping mechanism to sooth her pain. At the age of two my mother gave birth to my sister, although, my mother loved us, I believe her pain tortured her relentlessly. Soon my father choose alcohol to numb his

“Don’t let the Arab play dodgeball with us. He might try killing us.” As I looked around exasperatedly for the origin of this voice, I was greeted with a barrage of laughter. I did not have the cultural or linguistic qualifications to be deemed Arabic. Nor could my long, spindly arms cause harm. Yet, slowly, and in unison, each of my new sixth-grade classmates turned to stare at me. “Hey Arab, wipe that target off your forehead,” someone called out. I quickly realized my verbal assailant had mistakenly connected my tilak chandlo, a distinct Hindu forehead marking, with his own misinformed understanding of “Arab-ness.” My first lunch period ended with a bloody nose and a seat in the principal’s office. From that point forward, my future in middle school and high school appeared rather grim. The prospect of re-educating my peers seemed daunting and unmanageable.

Growing up as a child, I wore my dark black hair back in tight braids, baggy jeans, my tanned skin in white tank tops, and sneakers; not to express culture appropriation, but because it was all that I had. My surrounding environment was full of diverse races, and seeing color was a part of my daily routine. As I grew up and began to change throughout life, my environment did as well. I moved from the city streets to a suburban area, and as time wore on I noticed a distinct lack of color amongst my peers. Instead of me looking at the world the same day by day, it was as if the entire world was looking at me.

In the fall of 2015 I was given orders to report to Baumholder, Germany. I had anticipated my first assignment eagerly ever since I signed up for the Army in March of that same year. Without any idea what to expect, I dove in blind. The early days of my assignment in Germany were lonely, confusing, and misguided. I know that I was extremely anxious to impress my peers and supervisors. I knew that if I showed I was the best, I would not have to worry about being seen as the child I was used to being seen as. All of the pressure from coming to a new unit had me on edge. I met Sergeant Phillips shortly after my arrival to Germany, and needless to say we did not ‘hit it off’. We had troubles in the beginning but I would not have integrated into this Army so well if it weren’t for the guidance and example of Sergeant Adam Phillips. Sergeant Phillips made a lasting impression on my life professionally and personally.

Even though the music being played was supposed to be the highlight of the night, I believe that the atmosphere it embodied was what transformed the experience from ordinary to unique. I was hesitant to attend this event because it was out of my comfort zone, but I ended up having a marvelous time. I derived pleasure in the vivacity of the music and the cheerful crowd that allowed themselves to be submerged into the tunes. My company and the Irish cuisine only enhanced the experience. The enjoyment I endured leads me to believe that I would probably attend another event that is similar. Despite the lack of knowledge I have about Irish culture, this event granted me the ability me to discover new values associated with Irish traditions and has expanded my cultural

When I am asked about my cultural identity I think about my ethnicity. Being an Indian in a predominantly white school I feel awkward and out of place. Through the conflicts of my race and religion I have learned more about myself and my cultural identity.

In my seventeen years, I have gone to great extents to avoid conflict and confrontation and I had been successful until August 14th, 2016 aboard the Norwegian Gem. The screech of the cabin phone echoed as my nine year old brother and I fell into an empty pause as both of us knew the heart wrenching news on the other end of the line. We bolted to the hospital deck to see our grandmother dazed and latched on to oxygen and IV’s. My brother wasn’t able to comprehend the severity and sheer horror of our predicament. We slumped in fear watching our grandmother disembark the ship on a stretcher to an unknown international hospital, leaving my brother and I unaccompanied minors aboard a floating city outside the U.S. The uniformed Guest Services Manager

I am a military child that has been growing up in several different places across the world from the United States all the way to Germany. I suffer from Adhd myself and would love to help people with the same problems. I am 16 years old and i think that my mental problems let me see the world differently than other people my mind is engineered to be good at engineering, science, and math. My parents are both working parents. My dad is Active Duty in the Military and my mom works at the BX.