’s what would I have done. This made me cherish my family and know how to relate with others. Eventually, she was able to endure to the
The author, Gary Paulsen, writes about a thirteen year old boy, named Brian Robeson, who lived in a city all his life...until now. Now, he basically tries to survive in the wilderness. This obviously wasn’t his choice though. His parents are separated, and it was time for him to catch a flight to canada, where his father lived. Before the flight, the mother gave him a hatchet as a present, and hooked it on his belt.
Day 2 Immigrant. That word gives me a label here. I am crossing the border to the U.S because my parents think it will give us a new beginning and a better life. I think they’re wrong. Our life in El Salvador was fine: We had a nice house and we were healthy.
I’ve gone through hardships and trying to keep my own family together. Someone very dear to my family has passed on and it was one of the most horrible things i’ve experienced as a young child myself. I was 12 too when i’ve experience loss, at the time I couldn’t cope I was in denial and agony. But eventually I had to learn to grow up and accept what has happened and help my family in the process.
Growing up in a family where my mom was a doctor and my dad was a musician, I was exposed to a lots of things in my life. For example I was able to see Broadway plays and and go on family trips to Disney every year in the winter. A lot of people would say I was very fortunate to be one of the family where I knew both my parents and they did there best to give me a lot of life experiences. But me being an African-American male it seems like I not supposed to how do experiences, I was supposed to not know my father not to be able to go on these trips with my family.
I’m able to resonate with a plethora of things, yet the thing I consider my identity is I’m an adopted, Haitian immigrant. I was born in Haiti in 1998, in a small village in Thomazeau, I moved to Croix-des- Bouquets right after my birth and I lived there until I was 9 years old. My family's financial situation was adequate. My mom was always able to find a way to make ends meet. This cause our neighbor to be envious of us.
Once the grey stormy clouds started rolling on the horizon, something was coming. The smell of smoke was in the air and the grounds started shaking. That’s when everyone started running. It was another bomb attack where all the buildings were falling and people were fleeing. With all the chaos of people trying to run with their families, leaving everything behind to get to a safe place I had to stop.
When I first received your letter I was a tad disordered to be completely frank, I had understood things were going fairly smoothly, I comprehend the distance is challenging for me to suitably govern thou. Yet is it really necessary for you to not state these grievances in person? Do you seek me as unreasonable gent, is that why you didn’t do this all face to face? I consider myself to be one of the fairer rulers; back to the matter at hand- If you wish to leave I will not stop you.
I moved to America when I was nine years old. Even though I did not know any alphabet, I gradually got used to the new environment. Soon, I got pleased about being able to live in America. I especially liked the atmosphere there. For example, when I went to a store, I noticed that everyone was so friendly to others.
I was born and raised in the southernmost past of Texas in a city named Brownsville where diversity is almost non-existent. Growing up in a city with one of the highest poverty rates was surprisingly not as much a struggle as you may think. My father had a decent job with a salary of around 48,000, but that number varies every year. He is the captain of a shrimp boat and has owned his very own boat a few times. For this reason, my father was frequently absent in my life and still is to this day.
As the crow flew across the sky, I felt a thick breeze of wind hit me in the face, I heard several voices talking a language I'd never heard before. I was born in southern Europe, and everyone around me was just another figure. I saw men, women, and tiny children, looking like they had been starving for quite some time. I, however did not look much different, but I guess it is the thought of more people starving than just myself. I am 14 years old, I was born in 1877, my parents have been separated from me, and my little brother just died.
Even though I have never been on an airplane, I consider myself an international traveler. I live in the U.S. but I also have Lebanese immigrant parents. When I was younger, I used travel back and forth across international borders to fulfill my daily routine in one city. But; I was never Arab enough to fit in with “Arab” natives, and being Arab means that I would never be considered “American” enough.
When I was fourteen, my parents told me that we are moving to the USA for my bright future. We were sponsored by my aunt and uncle in this new world. Education in India, especially with a dream of becoming a Doctor, is expensive. My parents want me to be a successful doctor, but financial crisis was our barrier. I came to America in the search of opportunities and a successful future.
Growing up in a diverse city, the culture around me has always been different. Every person that I see always has a different type of belief than me. I’m a 17 year old Muslim student who lives in Southeast Texas. My father is from the Middle East, and my mother is from Western Europe. My parents migrated as refugees from Croatia to Houston in 1995 due to the ongoing war in Yugoslavia.
As a Muslim convert, who has a tragic story of hardship after coming to Islam. This is a very brief idea of my situation and what had happened to me. I have suffered and faced a lot of abuse and insults from my family and community after I became a Muslim. My family is very racist and my sister was involved with white supremacist groups. My story is a long story-
