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Challenges that today's immigrant children experience
Challenges that today's immigrant children experience
Changes and challenges of immigrant children
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Throughout my life I have always had one person who has stuck with me through thick and thin, my mother, Genoveva. My mother’s devotion was to her two daughters, she always prayed that my sister and I would have a better life then what she had and pushed through every obstacle for us. She is from Mexico, Puebla and is a very loud, assertive woman. She always believed in herself and whenever she put her mind to it, she always got the job done. She came to America in 1982 when she was just 16. Even though her journey was made from a rash decision, having to be forced to do something illegal and having to get accustomed to life in America she is just glad that she can now have a happy life with her family. In 1975, my mother’s parents had gone to America to try to find a stable job so they could later bring their children, to live a happier life since most of Mexico believed that America was where you …show more content…
When my mother arrived in Paterson, she hated it and thought it was so ugly and even cried to go back to Mexico. After six months my mother was able to go back to Mexico to get her green card, which showed that she was a legal citizen of America. My mother’s main priority was about making sure to go to school and get an education. She was able to go to Kennedy High School but hated it since she only spoke Spanish and couldn’t understand anything. The only thing she was able to truly excel in was in Mathematics which she really loved. She was able to have classes taught to her in Spanish as she got accustomed to English. For my mother, learning English was the hardest thing she ever had to and it was very stressful for her learning English in high school. When my mother came to America she had dreamed of having a better life, becoming a teacher, being able to study, be reunited with her parents but she realized she wouldn’t be able to have that dream
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
Growing up, the biggest challenge I faced was being a first generation Latina student. My family came from an extremely rural neighborhood in Guanajuato, Mexico called La Sandia. Both my parents achieved up to 5th-grade education in their hometowns. They decided to sacrifice their lives in Mexico to provide a better life for their family and then decided to migrate to the U.S to achieve what many people consider the American dream.
At the age of two my parents made the long and devastating journey to bring me and my siblings to the United States from Mexico. Wanting a brighter future for us, my parents fought tooth and nail to give us the world they didn’t grow up having. Ever since stepping foot on the U.S soil, going back seemed impossible. The effects of this life-changing move, couldn’t mask the unforeseen disadvantages. Lacking exposure to Mexico’s colorful culture, little to no bonding time with my family from abroad, and the struggle of trying to blend into an environment that was so different, soon began to interfere with my overall identity. Realizing this, my wonderful parents prepared a transformative trip back to my homeland, and back to the past, facing
My mom, Lilia Araujo was born in September of 1980 in Torrance, California. Her dad and mom, 2 brothers, and 3 sisters immigrated to California in the early 1970’s and set down in Long Beach. Her dad started to work with a relative who had lived in America a few Years longer in maintenance on the Queen Mary. Her mom was a homemaker so since her father was the only one working they could only afford to live in a 1 bedroom apartment on the 2nd floor of a 4 apartment building. Many of their relatives and friends, that were from the same Hometown in Mexico lived in this neighborhood. Her parents did not speak English, but they knew it was the most important thing that they and the kids needed to learn in order to live in America.
The American dream, as some may call it, is a cherished idea by those who may lack opportunities. For those in Mexico, it is something that is sure to have crossed their minds sometime in their life. The United States, to foreigners, has been looked at as a sign of opportunity and freedom from oppressive governments or unfortunate living conditions. The Other Side of Immigration takes a look at the Mexican nation and provides thought-provoking interview segments about the people still living in the nation who experience and observe the effects of immigration to the United States.
Being a Hispanic have impacted all my entire life; I lived 15 years of my life in Mexico I love being there because most part of my family live in Nuevo Laredo, I was cursing my last months of 8th grade and one day my mom told me that she was thinking about send me here to the U.S to start learn English; since I’m a U.S citizen and I didn't know the language of my country, I accepted. The most hard prove was live without having my mom at my side, since I live with my aunt now; when the days passed here in the U.S I started to depressed myself because I missed so much my house and all my family, one day in the middle of the night I call my mom crying and I told her that I really want go back to Mexico, but she didn’t take into account my desire my mom just explained me that it will be the best for my future and with the time I will be thankful with her for don’t let me go back. My mom, and my grandmother are the ones who motivates me to be a better student. Actually I’m in dual enrollment and I have taken AP classes; sometimes is hard for me talk, read or write in another language that the one I was accustomed but, every time I fail I get up and persist until I’m able to do what I want.
I come from a low income family with no background. My parents do not speak English. When we first moved to America, I had to teach myself English and then teach it to my parents. It is agonizing and heartbreaking to see how hard my parents work for my siblings and I. As immigrants, they work day and night in order to provide us with a better education and life. My mom leaves for work at 4 am and comes back at 7pm. My dad leaves at 5 am and comes back at 8 pm. Ever since my sister and I were young, we had to act like adults. We did all the chores, study, cook and more. My parents sacrificed a lot for me, just so I would have a taste of success that they never...
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.
“Dreaming with My Mother” by Angy Rivera is a life time story of one immigrant girl who was brought by her mother to America for a better life and opportunities. Author Rivera is the first person. The writer tells us her story of “invisible life” and shows on her own example how people were struggling and still are struggling when they are undocumented. From her childhood till adult age Angy was advised by her mother and friends to keep it secret that she was undocumented. And she did so until it was decided by Angy to “Come out of Shadow”. Her life turned into another direction after she heard about the “Dream Act” and was involved with New York State Leadership Council. The author describes in details how hard it was
“You are in America, speak English.” As a young child hearing these words, it did not only confuse me but it also made me question my belonging in a foreign country. As a child I struggled with my self-image; Not being Hispanic enough because of my physical appearance and not being welcomed enough in the community I have tried so hard to integrate myself with. Being an immigrant with immigrant parents forces you to view life differently. It drives you to work harder or to change the status quo for the preconceived notion someone else created on a mass of people. Coming to America filled me with anxiety, excitement, and even an unexpected wave of fear.
As I boarded the plane to move to the United States, the beginning of September 2005, I couldn’t help but think about all that I left behind; My family, my friends, my school, my clothes, and all of the awesome cultural food. Then again, I looked forward to this new life, a new beginning. I imagined it being like life in the movies, where everything seemed easy and life was just beautiful. After all, I was going to the States; the place where most people only dreamt of. I felt very blessed to have this opportunity because I knew that it wasn’t given to everyone. Coming to America marked my coming of age because I left behind my old life, I started life afresh, and I became a much grateful person.
I was born in Chicago and lived with my parents for a while. When I was six years old my parents got divorced, I never saw my father after that. After that, we moved to Arkansas. Soon after that my mother got deported to Mexico. we had to move to Mexico now. It was tough because I only spoke English at the time. Me and sister of only four years of age were separated from our mom for over a year because they would not let my mom out of the immigration facility. That was the most painful year of my life. This made me very sad and. I still remember the day I saw my mom for the very first time after all that time. She looked so different than I had remembered her. I would live in Mexico for the next six years. When I entered middle school, I was
Poverty is a dark and chilly fog that follows me wherever I go. Even when luminous rays of sunlight are beaming at me, it is a ubiquitous blanket that suffocates me. Ultimately, it is also the grim reaper who took away my innocence at an early age.
It was about two years ago when I arrived in United States of America, and I still remember the day when I left my native country, Honduras. As I recall, one day previous to my departure, I visited my relatives who live in San Pedro Sula. They were all very happy for me to see me except my grandmother Isabel. She looked sad; even though she tried to smile at all times when I was talking to her, I knew that deep inside of her, her heart was broken because of my departure the next morning. I remember that I even told her, “Grandma, do not worry about me, I’ll be fine. I promise that I will write you letters and send you pictures as much as possible.” Here reply was, “I know sweetie I know you will.” Suddenly after she said that I started to cry. For som...
Living in Mexico was predominantly, one of the most difficult experiences I have ever encountered. During our yearlong stay in Mexico, I felt that I lost my sense of identity and sense of purpose. The children in Mexico were incomparable to the friends I had in New Jersey: they made me feel victimized and even worthless when I attended school. I lived in a constant state of fear because I did not feel secure, accepted, or relatable; however, I did feel fortunate to have been raised in the United States, although I did not know where my future was headed. Attending a bilingual school was also a challenge because most teachers understood meager English; however, I was able to push and motivate myself to understand the language and content. Fortunately, living in Mexico made me a fluent Spanish speaker and has allowed me to express my culture more willingly since the moment I returned to New