Personal Narrative: My Immigration To The United States

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

Hi, I’m Anna Sophia Wager and I am from Germany. I immigrated to the United States in 1908. There was a big drought and my mother and father were very ill. I was helping my parents and my other family. One day, my father pulled me aside after school. I was a teacher at Berlin British School. He talked very softly. “Anna Sophia,” My father said, “Here is a ticket to Americana. Go and find Ben.” Ben was my older brother. My parents gave him a ticket to the United States. I looked at the ticket. It was a ticket that was golden brown. I gave my father a hug and ran to my room. I started packing, I didn’t know what was ahead of me. It was finally my third week on the crowded boat. When I look own the steerage door I see the dirty faces, hard lumpy beds, and chunky slimy soup.

Growing up in the US as an immigrant, my childhood was a little different from most people’s. I faced many struggles due to the differences in cultures, social, and economics. However, I was able to overcome all those challenges and become a more humble, responsible, and determined individual because of my ability to adapt quickly, be compassionate, and stay goals-oriented.

When I came to the United states, it was pretty hard trying to speak and understand english,because when someone was talking to me I did not understood a single word. It Frustrated me.It was also really hard to pronounce a word because some words does not sound the same way their written.I actually did not want it to read or write anything to learn i just want it to go back where I could understand a language.My mom spoke with me about how she felt when she first came to the US I realize that nothing is impossible.

I never understood how I got to the United States. I decided to uncover my past and ask my parents,my father; Jae Cho at the age of 60, and my mother; Eunwoo Cho at 53. My parents met at a bar in Seoul during high school. From there they knew they had a special connection. After a year, my .father moved to tennessee because all of his friends were there. His days consisted of struggling in high school trying to learn english, and skating every other second he had. After years of agonizing training, he qualified for the 1984 winter olympics. After his skating career, he went to the University of Wisconsin. My mom was still in korea at the time, starting her acting career. She acted in indie films but eventually got recognition and was chosen

Being an immigrant is not easy, specially when you have to adapt to another environment. Learning english was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. Every time someone spoke to me english, l began to get frustrated. Sometimes I used google translator to do the assignments and projects that they give me, and sometimes my classmate would translate for me the english sentence my teacher spoke, And it would help my english get better.

This is a very interesting story. I am glad that she got to experience how the real life for most of us is, and how sometimes we only work to pay rent and bills. I myself can relate to that with my family. We came here in 2006, and my as an immigrant my mom had to work in whatever she could find, just to be able to pay rent and give me food. This is the reason why I go to school, to better myself, and to be able to get a job that I enjoy doing, and that it will give me a good paycheck. Honestly I feel bad for many people because, it is very hard to live in this country while getting paid minimum wage, but this is why we have to sacrifice ourselves and go to school to become someone.

It is a popular belief that children are bound to the same path that their parents have been down. As a result, being the daughter of two Haitian parents, neither of whom have secondary education, and moved to the United States in the hope of a better life this was a belief placed on me. Throughout my high school career, I have faced obstacles both big and small. One barrier I faced was going into my junior year. Going into my junior year I noticed my dad was home a lot more than usual, but I never questioned it. After a couple of weeks, my mother sat me down and told me he lost his job. At first, when she told me this it didn’t seem like a problem to me. I just thought he would put in more applications get hired and things would turn back

Throughout last generation, immigration has been vital for my family- my mother is an immigrant, and so are my paternal grandparents. Being Mexican immigrants in a land that does not accept you is hard; I’ve seen the struggles firsthand. Like my grandparents, my mother did not have many opportunities once she entered the United States. She came seeking to start a career and make a name for herself, yet ended up being an assistant manager at Wal-Mart. Nonetheless, she has worked hard alongside my father to provide the best for my brother and I. But I know if she was a white American without a Mexican accent,

Imagine going to a new country, knowing nobody, not even the language. How would you feel? What would you do? My family and I were in this situation thirteen years ago. It was difficult to completely start our lives over and build our family again piece by piece. Recently, people have deemed immigrants as ‘drug mules’ or ‘evil rapists’ and more and more frequently I see on the news the hate unleashed towards them. They are the ‘other’ and it is easy to say these things about people you don’t know. It is easy to generalize a group when you only know the crimes of one person. This country that was built on the hard work of immigrants has begun to hate them. As humans, we want to protect our family and those we love, even it it means saying horrible

I was following the heartbreaking news of Immigration crisis in Europe and watching that how these desperate people struggling to save their lives and find a better life in nearby countries, that the photo of my parents and I in a hand curved frame right next to my computer caught my attention and reminded me of my own journey as a refugee.

Being an immigrant is a mind numbing experience. I didn't know a speck of english and I barely understood my teacher. I had to adjust to the whole new culture. But at age 6 that was easy. I quickly figured out that in here we didn’t have to pray every monday. I didn’t have to put on a uniform everyday. I can easily get free food from the cafeteria when my mother signed me up for the free lunch program. In America I didn’t have to smell the canal and street trash anymore. In just 3 weeks my whole life changed. I got used to it for about 2 years, then I had to go back. Back to the gang-filled, starving, broken house that I was born in.

This letter is to detail when I crossed the border into the United States. In 1999 I arrived to Tijuana, Mexico I do not remember the day or the month exactly. A lady came up wondering that if I was going to cross the United States, and I said yes, then she took me to a men. The man said to me that it could help me to cross into the United States, and I accepted. He took me to Tecate, Mexico where he had 10 more people, when we arrived to tecate, Mexico at 6 in the afternoon, We went up to the first 8 in a truck and we were driving us as 1 1/2 approximately. From there we went walking in the mountains, we walked about 5 hours, until we came to a river or canal of water there they already had a chamber of water used as a lifeguard. They told us that this water was a dirty water or black waters.

Home is where your heart is. For my mother and I our hearts were left with my beloved sister in Shiraz, Iran. We were departing our country and culture for my dad in America, who we had not seen for two years. However, this came with a miserable price. The U.S. immigration system is not so permissive in whom they allow to enter, with one of their determining factors being age. My sister, Azadeh, had become too “old” for her to be dependent on our parents. At that age, I was four and she was twenty-one with a caring heart like my mom’s. I loved her. I had not only fled my homeland but had left a piece of my heart in its soil. I had lost my big sister, and my mother had lost her

The year was 1999, Gloria Urrea kissed her son and husband goodbye. She knew she’d see us again but the three months we’d be spending a part spent apart worried her. My father and I where heading to The United States in pursuit of a better life. My little sister was a mere six months old and complications with her permeant residency paper work had forced our family to come over in two separate groups. My mother, Gloria, had a successful textile business in Bogota, Colombia but having the opportunity to come to The US was worth as much as a winning lottery ticket.