Personal Narrative: My Immigrant Family

Coming from a Mexican immigrant family I have learned to recognize since a very young age that because of the status that my parents are placed in they cannot pursue a better future like the one I want. I have been given the opportunity to challenge myself with obtaining a higher education than just high school itself. My parents have demonstrated to me through their hard work that I have to value this opportunity unless I want to end up with low paying job. My life long dedication comes from seeing my parents make sacrifices in order for my education to continue.

My background is interesting. My twin sister and I were raised by parental grandmother until she passed away due to lung cancer when I was 11 years of age. My grandmother had 15 children and raised 2 more. My diverse experiences in life begin here. My Mother was Caucasian and my father was Hispanic, both born and raised in Texas. Both of my families were similar but very different. They were similar in that they were of low economic status, but very different because of their beliefs and their culture. My Hispanic family believed and still believes that God is number one in life (prayed before every meal) and that you respect everyone regardless of how they may treat you. My Hispanic family believed in helping one another when given the opportunity.

There were three lessons that my immigrant parents ingrained in their first-generation children: Work hard, never give up, and most importantly, give back. Among other life lessons they taught us, these three were the basis for everything. It would be the basis that would and will define me as a person.

With the settlement of first immagrants to America, this has been the phrase in which they preach. I seemed to those from an outside perspective of America, that this was the place to be. This was no exception for my grandfather. His valuable lessons of dedication, persistence and passion have shaped me into the person that I have become.

Throughout my entire life I have heard the word “immigrant” countless times, inmy childhood, in my middle school days, and especially nowadays with the controversial topic taking over social media. I’ve been labelled with this word or image ever since my birth, and yet I still don’t exactly know how I should feel about that.

When I arrived to the United States I faced a challenging situation in my life, I didn’t know English. This challenging as I didn’t know how to communicate with any of my teachers or classmates, and I wasn’t able to do any of my work. Not being able to participate in class upsetted me because in Mexico I was use to doing all my classwork and homework. Therefore, I decided that I was going to do everything in my power to learn English quickly. So, when the my ESL teacher announced to my parents that they were going to have to take to school during the summer, I didn’t mind at all. When I was in summer school I learned a lot of English due to my determination and my hard work. Looking back I wouldn’t do things differently because I know that

I am from a country with beautiful landscapes that has turned into a warzone country.

It was summer of 2010. My parents were still married and we went up to Wichita Falls, Wichita to go see my brother Chris who was in the Military on base working. We stayed there for a week. I still remember the car ride up there. We rented a van, we had tvs in the rented van, my sister Rylee, my other brother Garrett (he was in the military too), my mom Traci, and my dad Doug, and my brothers military bag it was like a person. I still remember I had to sit in the back with that bad it was so big. Garrett put the seatbelt around the bag like it was a person. The car trip was so long but it was all worth it in the end. It was in the middle of the week and we were out on the beach. My brother Chris and his pregnant wife Ashley had a boat the water

It is not uncommon to hear one recount their latest family reunion or trip with their cousins, but being a first generation immigrant, I sacrificed the luxury of taking my relatives for granted for the security of building a life in America. My parents, my brother, and I are the only ones in my family who live in the United States, thus a trip to India to visit my extended family after 4 years was an exciting yet overwhelming experience. Throughout the trip, I felt like a stranger in the country where I was born as so many things were unfamiliar, but there were a few places that reminded me of my childhood.

A year and a half ago I moved from Venezuela to the US with my family; since then I have tried my best to make this sacrifice worth it and make my family proud. Leaving everything that you own behind and moving somewhere new with only a couple of luggage with you is extremely difficult economically, which is why my family is currently experiencing financial difficulties that make it more difficult for me to be able to afford the costs of a good college education. I currently work 3 jobs cleaning houses to help my family, however, it is still not enough to afford a college education. Being an immigrant is a part of my identity and it has shaped my character into what I believe is a hard-working student and person. At West Marshall high school

They say the winter is a metaphor for solitude; however, my winter was everything but solitary. I longed for Christmas Carols and holiday cheer, instead I got the sound of doors slamming and children fighting. I expected normal; my mom, my dad, and my brother. Instead I received my mom, my dad, my brother, aunt, and three cousins in a sardine packed house.

I’m juror number eleven I immigrated from Europe to the US I work as a watchmaker.I believe in the justice system in America and will see that it gets carried out fairly and properly. I’m quite, polite, honest, educated, and I’m observant to all the facts, I will take everything into consideration before making a decision on a verdict.As I said before Im quiet and poliet I keep to myself untill I am asked to speak or when details need to be remembered and I treat everyone one with respect. At first I believed that the defendant was guilty but as we deliberated I came to see that there was a reasonable doubt that the defendant was innocent.

It is challenging being the oldest child in every family. What is even harder, is being the first child of immigrant parents. From the obstacles I faced, I was able to become independent. My parents left El Salvador to go to America for a better life. When they left their country my mother was pregnant with her first child which was me. After I was born and I began to grow, the only language I spoke and heard was Spanish. Since both my parent spoke little English and spoke mostly Spanish I thought it was only natural for me to follow them.

My family immigration story involves a lot of typical topics and a few hardships which people may not expect. By my generation, we have become accepted as White. However, both of my grandmothers had mixed ancestry.

Being born into a Latino immigrant family has had both perks and downsides throughout my life. I was born into a diverse culture of incredible food, a beautiful language, many traditions, and a huge community of wonderful people. However, I don’t feel as if I live in a community where I fully belong. My entire life, I’ve lived in Rhinebeck, NY, a place where diversity is not a strong suit. I’ve gone to a school filled with kids whose lives are completely different than mine. In my class, there are only two Latino students: me and another girl named Iridian. Of course, my skin color and curly hair have made me feel as if I stick out like a sore thumb. In elementary school, I thought it was the only thing that set me apart from peers.