Personal Narrative-Seeking Immigrant

My story would have never begun if my parents had not made a huge decision in my life, almost 15 years ago. When they decided to move our family across the border, my future would be become unknown. The fate I had been destined to have was completely altered, now, I had the opportunity to change my life for the better, to strive for something bigger. My parents pushed me to be the best I could be, and to work as hard as possible to get what I wanted. As the daughter of two Mexican immigrants I grew up in a very cultural household, and being surrounded by Spanish at all times. The only negative being I had to learn English on my own, and which led to me having some difficulty when I first started school. Yet, growing up in a Spanish speaking

Throughout history, we have seen a plethora of people leaving their original lives behind for the new opportunities in America, but are let down by the harshness of our culture. In the story, Arrival: 1960 by Pablo Medina, we learn about a young Cuban family who make a great move to the United States, more specifically New York City. The main character begins the story high spirited and excited for their new home for it would contain new experiences. In contrast he begins to see the reality within the city and at his school further into the story. He discovers that his new environment is not at all what he expected and on top of that he is faced with a culture that is abstract to his previous beliefs of identification. His high

On 06/20/17, at 3:08pm, I Deputy Warden N. Christian was dispatched to 2645 Travis Road on a dog being held, no known owner. I arrived at the location and met with complainant. Complainant is a leasing agent for the above listed property. Complainant had the dog in the back of an abandoned apartment (fence in patio). The complainant took me to the location the dog was being held, I impounded the dog and placed a white terrier mix in my vehicle. The terrier had no identifying tags to indicate ownership. I transported the dog to Franklin County Animal Shelter (FCACC). Dog owner John Allen Jr redeemed the dog on 06/21/17. Mr. Allen did not show proof of dog license or vaccinate for his dog name Mabelline. I issued Mr. Allen violations

The process of assimilating to a new culture, environment, and language is never an easy task for immigrants settling in America. Whether forced to make such decisions to relocate to America or doing so by their own desires, all immigrants have had to survive the physical and psychological challenges encountered along the way. Foreigners are not only challenged by having to adapt to the physical surroundings, but they are also challenged by the unfamiliar social and cultural environment. The academic report “Living in America: Challenges Facing New Immigrants and Refugees” edited by Katherine Garrett, identifies a variety of problems foreigners encounter according to conducted studies and interviews with immigrants in ten cities across the United States. The narrative essay “Aria: A Memoir of a Bilingual Childhood “by Richard Rodriguez tells a story about the troubles Rodriguez and his family faced while first

We started off with a bang. We started with me thinking of what to do how to do it and what were my ideas. Then, a little later we actually started it and not gonna lie, it was scary. I didn’t know that much about my family, yeah i've heard stories but they're stories. Later on we went home i didn’t tell my family anything just unsuspiciously getting all the information and I learned a lot yes. I learned about my names and why they're my names, I learned about my dad getting lost a lot, I learned about my mom moving here to america when she was 14 and how her life was before she moved and why she moved. I learned about my uncle going to jail for crossing the border illegally which is kinda funny. All those I learned but i couldn’t find anything

I was always a precocious child, yet argumentative and rebellious. I did not want to accomplish anything following a pattern set for me. I wanted to forge my own way. This determination set me at odds with my mother, and has defined our relationship all these years. It has surely led me down my own irregular path in life, and placed me in position to be the family’s black sheep.

When I was living in Cleveland, Ohio I have a friend that is an illegal immigrant. She is Mexican. We lived in the same apartment building. The apartment was different. It stretched to sky and I thought i was going to fall. She is just a year older than me. Her dad is janitor during that time when I was new to America. She is really nice and friendly. We always hung out and sleep over each other house. A couple of years later, I asked her “how did you come here?” She said, “ well, I don’t really remember how I got here, but my dad told me that we came by ship. It was not easy. He faced a lot of struggle just to get us here.” She came here when she was 5 years old and her name is Jameil. Her dad worked really hard. Her dad was divorced with

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.

It had been 8 weeks on the vessel when we had been informed that we would be nearing the New York harbor soon, that meant eight weeks without any pyzy or kopytka, my favorite foods. The vessel was fairly clean and was filled with people such as myself and my brother, Jacek, escaping the grasp of Nazi Germany in Poland or the equivalent of so in their countries. On the other hand, some are here seeking greater economic opportunity and religious freedom. My brother and I were the only ones out of my family brave enough to leave our lives behind and venture into America. It wasn’t easy for me to leave everything behind and start anew, I had many friends, family, and prized possessions that I left, not knowing if I would ever see them again. I

I am the first generation of my family members that has been raised at and attended school in the United States. My siblings were raised and educated in Mexico later transitioning to the U.S. when I was 4. My family from a young age to now has only been made up of my mom, two sisters, nephews, and niece slowly growing as time passes.

“Papa, no te vayas!” (Daddy, don’t go!) Those were the words that I said with tears streaming down my face every time my dad left our home in Mexico to return to California. I recall this fractured family existence, this inevitable sacrifice of separation in order to survive for seven long years, until my parents decided that it was time to reunite in the United States and finally become a stable family. While the United States was a new setting for my family, it was not a new place for me as it was my birth country. Yet, I remember feeling harassed and excluded, common emotions among immigrants to the U.S. and this new emotion created a fear I was unaccustomed to; I felt scared of this new lifestyle and of the limited possibilities.

My alarm blasted its sound in my ear, waking me up. I desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but it was another dreaded school day. Fighting my desire to continue sleeping, I walked over to the bathroom and splashed cold water from the sink on my face to wake myself up. Unfortunately, even that couldn’t completely shake my tiredness. “Oh well…” I sighed as I began stroking my hairbrush through the length of my chestnut-colored hair.

I chose my immigrant participant from a personal perspective, yet not knowing much about him. Last year, my first year teaching, I had a little boy in my class that was Latino, very shy and quite. He struggled in reading and writing and after meeting with his parents and ESOL teacher several times, the decision was made to retain him in first grade. His parents, especially dad was hesitant about the decision, and began to tell small glimpses of how his son was very much like him, shy, and scared to reach out because of the language barrier. There was never much elaborated on, but I could tell that dad had possibly been in a similar situation before. This year, I was lucky enough to have this same child in my first grade class again. After receiving

I am a migrant worker, I don’t earn as much money, but the good thing is I can maintain my daughter and I. It is sometimes hard to raise her because of the low payment I earn but it is sufficient for our own survival, not to mention her father died quite years back, yes it is hard but to look at my daughter because it reminds me of him, but yet I manage to be happy because I know I have a part of him with me, our daughter. It does hurt me to raise her without a father because that was my childhood it shouldn’t be her’s, I want her to be happy. My husband died in the 1930’s, April 14, he was taken out by a Black Blizzard, after that i’ve never seen one. His body was never found, when I saw the Blizzard it was large,it wasn’t small it was