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Parenting styles and cultures
Parenting styles and cultures
Parenting styles of children in other cultures
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Lessons from my Obstacles Culture difference causes many difficulties to Refugees in the United States. It seems like living with a stepmother is one of the common things that happened to many of teenagers in the United States. Most of the American parents were educated well, but many of the Refugees are not educated well especially for parenting. In the other word, living with a stepmother was not an easy life for me. The pains that I went through were unbearable. My mother passed away in Burma at the year of 2010. I live with my step siblings, my stepmother and my dad here in America. During that time, I didn't have any close relationship with my stepmother. She didn't treat me right. She treated me differently from her children. She would use phrases like “ dog girl”, “stupid”, “You are nothing”, “useless”, and “there's nothing that you are good at ” to called me. Whenever I did something unpleasant to her, she would tell on me to my father. Because she would yelled at us every day including my step siblings, I acquired heart attack that would affect me until today. Whenever I hear someone yelling, I would be …show more content…
“I would rather kill myself than to live in this house” were my everyday thoughts. I cried myself to sleep every night, hoping and praying to God that one day things will only get better. I missed my mother so much. I always wished to be with her. Even when I arrived here in America, I couldn't believe the thought that my mother left me here in this loneliness world. I knew that I lived in America with my family, but I never felt like they were really my family because they never support me in my education. I thought that everything that happened that caused problems at my house were because of me. I blamed myself even when it was not my fault. I would tell myself that all this things happened because of my existence in the
They have no power to choose for themselves and are considered to have a lack of ability to be independant, forcing the need to rely on men in their lives like fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons. As a representing character, Stepmother did not control her life. Bandits killed most of her family when she was young, but she survived by hiding between two trunks of clothes. Then she was taken away from a Mission House and “reclaimed by the village clan, eventually being sold to her Father’s Canton merchant family” (Choy 6). So clearly, Stepmother has no right to choose for herself like an individual; she is just an article that belongs to others and a good that can be sold. In addition, in this family, Stepmother has a very low position even though she gave birth to two kids. Stepmother is Jook Liang and Sek Lung’s birth mother, but she can only be called “Stepmother”. Third Uncle explained, “Stepmother” was a ranking much more respectable than a “family servant,” more honourable than “concubine,” but never equal in honour or respect to the title of First Wife or Mother, Stepmother remained silent (Choy 147). This illustrates Old Chinese Seniority Rules; no matter what a female dedicates to the family, if she is not the first wife, she will never get the respect that she deserves to have. Normally, in Old China, women cannot get fair treatments. They must follow the rules without any doubt, even if they are unequal. Also, Stepmother
Step Mother (second wife of fathers and mother to the youngest children) was only a young girl when her parents were killed. After a series of unfortunate events she was bought from a village clan and sold to become someone’s “companion”. None of this was her choice. “She was taken to a mission house, then taken away again, reclaimed by the village clan, and eventually sold into fathers canton merchant family” (13). Objectified and forced to be what someone else wants, stepmother is told to be exactly how the father wants her. She is forced to be submissive, and acts as a mother to the children, a wife to the husband, and a servant to the grandmother, or Poh-Poh. Throughout the novel her life is not hers to live, and her children are taught to treat her differently because of it. She is father’s second wife and not his first and because of this the children-even those who are biological- are expected to call her stepmother: “Poh-oh insisted we simplify our kinship terms in Canada, so my mother became “step mother.”… What the sons called my mother, my mother became… Father did not protest. Nor did the slim, pretty woman that was my mother seem to protest, though she must have cast a glance at the old one and decided to buy her time” (15). Stepmother is forced to be a third party in the raising of her children. She is only able to step out of
Some people will fight against change. They want to go on living as they always have. Instead of assimilating, they stick to their old ways and traditions. Others draw themselves into their own quiet world. This was the case for the new stepmother. “Even now, my first response to a scowl is that old pulling away. My husband calls it “checking out”. I remember times early on in the marriage when the girls would be with us, and I’d get out of school and drive around doing errands, killing time, until my husband, their father would be leaving work. I am not proud of my fears, but I understand-as the lingo goes-where they come from” (Alvarez 700). The stepmother, in this story, has a very unique character. She is not bossy, arrogant, dominant, proud, or exhibiting any stereotypical characteristics associated with a stepmother. In essence, she is the exact opposite. She is trying hard to blend in with her family. Her fear instills in her the needs to drive around town for hours. Does she fear an awkward situation with her stepdaughters when their father is not around? She withdraws herself, pulling away from her fully-American girls. She knows what they are going through, and does not want to hurt them even more. Stepmother and stepdaughter relationships can be strained, and this additional cultural difference only worsens the situation. Instead of becoming better acquainted, the stepmother flees the scene, giving into her fear, even
Did you know that every day several hundreds of people are forced out of their home causing them to become a refugee? The universal refugee experience of fleeing and finding a home is difficult since the refugee doesn’t know or understand the language that well and can sometimes be viewed as an outsider. According to the article, “Children at War” by Arthur Brice, Amela Kamenica a teen refugee is forced out of her home due to the war near her hometown. In the novel, Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai, the main character, Ha is treated like an outcast since she doesn’t know the American traditions and ways. Ha is a ten-year old girl, who has to flee Vietnam because of the war between North and South Vietnam. It is dangerous and unsafe
When I was a child I thought everybody’s family would be the same, just your average family like mine and yours. My life as a child was a carefree life, I didn’t care for much, except stuff like doctors or dentist, I’ve done pretty much what an average kid did, I thought we had a good life going. When I went to my classmate’s house or meet their family they seemed like they were average to me. I never thought about how us as a family would have any trouble in the world, I was wrong.
I had no place to call home. My mom had not come to visit me one time, and I had only received a hand full of letters from her. She told me in those letters that she was sick, and I couldn’t live with her (She died of cancer a little over a year after my release). My twenty-three-year-old brother was a drug addict, so I didn’t want to live with him. With no place to live, I would end up in a state halfway house or some other type of group home. For someone who was about to turn sixteen, this was a lot to deal with. The last two hours of my bus ride, which were supposed to be the happiest part of the trip, turned into the worst. The tension in my heart was almost unbearable now. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and was clinching my heart in an angry fist. My eyes teared up from the
People look at you like you’re the one to blame. They see your tattered sneakers and tangled, greasy hair, and they think they know you. But how could they? You amble down the sidewalk, keep your head down, your eyes averted. You don’t want any trouble. People are quick to assume that's what you're looking for. Your lips are chapped and your face is dirty. You cannot remember the last time you brushed your teeth, let alone took a shower. The thought makes you laugh almost as much as the thought of your old bedroom walls, the shadows cast by the ceiling fan as you stared up from your bed. You had to leave home. It was taken from you. The adults in your life shifted as you grew older, or perhaps you just grew aware. They took pills or tipped glasses or screamed at you for no particular reason. They kicked you out when you got pregnant, when you got mouthy, when you weren't all they wanted you to be. They got sadistic. They crossed unspeakable lines. You had to leave home. You are barely more than a child. At least, you were before. Now, you are homeless.
When I was younger, I remember feeling as though I lived in a bubble; my life was perfect. I had an extremely caring and compassionate mother, two older siblings to look out for me, a loving grandmother who would bake never ending sweets and more toys than any child could ever realistically play with. But as I grew up my world started to change. My sister developed asthma, my mother became sick with cancer and at the age of five, my disabled brother developed ear tumors and became deaf. As more and more problems were piled upon my single mother’s plate, I, the sweet, quiet, perfectly healthy child, was placed on the back burner. It was not as though my family did not love me; it was just that I was simply, not a priority.
It was a Sunday morning when I woke up by the morning shiver and with the sweet smell of tea filling the room. I woke up with a yawn but still laying down because I was too lazy to get up. I stood up quickly almost losing my balance when why mom yelled my name. “Come down stairs I have good news for you” said mom. I went down stairs I saw my parents drinking green hot tea and watching news on the television. I walk toward the table distracted by the chaos of different loud noises like the news, my brothers watching cartoon, and my sister whining. I greeted my parents, as I passed them I heard someone saying “can’t wait to move” excitedly.” After finishing my delicious breakfast I ask my mom, where are we moving? “We are moving to America” with
It had come to the attention of my family that I had some sort of psychological problem and something had to be done. I was always labeled as a shy and quiet kid, and like my family I had thought nothing more of my behavior. However, now it had become something more obvious. I had told my parents the kinds of problems I was having. Basically I didn't want to talk to anyone or to be anywhere near anyone I didn't know. I didn't really want to leave my house for any reason for fear that I might have to talk to someone. I was so critical and scrutinizing in relation to myself that I couldn't even enter into a conversation. Everyone seems to have a part of themselves that lends itself to thoughts of pessimism and failure, but mine was something that was in the forefront of my mind at all times. Something telling me that everything I did was a failure, and that anything I ever did would not succeed. Through discussion with my family it was decided that I should move out of my parents house to a place where I could find treatment and get a job. I was to reside with my sister Lisa, her partner Brynn, and their Saint Bernard in Greensboro.
Overcoming Obstacles Throughout a persons life, they are faced with different obstacles, and different challenges of all different types. My life in particular has been full of ups and downs, especially towards my soccer career. In the novel The Pact, three boys, George, Rameck, and Sam, are faced with many obstacles throughout their lives, where they must learn to overcome and achieve great success on their own will power. Essentially, I did the same thing. My soccer career has been one of my most difficult life challenges, creating the person I am today.
Before I begin contrasting my home culture to the host culture at Friends of Refugees, I must explain some social norms of my culture. As I previously stated, I come from a mostly typical American family and display at least five of the norms presented in Craig Storti’s book, Figuring Foreigners Out, A Practical Guide. One norm discussed is Individualism, where identity is found in oneself (Storti, 1999). I experience individualism through the choices I am presented in daily life and through the expectations of others, particularly my family and school. For example, my parents did expect me to go to college, but they imposed little influence on the major I selected, that decision was mine alone. Apart from college, my parents, like most other
There once was a girl who lived a happy life until the age of thirteen. Everything changed that day because that 's when her mother started emotionally, mentally, and verbally abusing her. The girl wanted nothing more than to be loved by her mother but that was not the case. Her mother thought that she was nothing than a worthless piece of garbage on the street. Every day the girl 's mom had something negative to say to the girl whether it was that she was stupid, worthless, or even someone who nobody wanted around. Every day the girl wished to be accepted by her mother, but she knew deep down that would never happen. The girl battled anxiety and depression disorder caused by her mother 's years of torture and abusive ways. The girl was on
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
When I left my room, my mother knew that I had gone through a rough time, and I did not want to talk to her about it. Even though there was only a month left in my school year, I promised myself that I would be completely truthful to my friends, my family, my heritage, and myself. I expected all my friends to leave me, but I was fully prepared for this. However, none of this ever happened. My friends didn’t leave me, I wasn’t alone at the lunch table, I wasn’t even seem differently by those around me. I had failed my family by doing this, and I wished I had stopped acting like someone I wasn’t sooner. This is one of the only mistakes I have made which I consider a failure because it had taken me close to a year to fix, and this is why I consider it my most successful failure.