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Effects of children poverty
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More handpicked essays just for you.
Effects of children poverty
Poverty effecting children
Summary on the effects of poverty on children
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Recommended: Effects of children poverty
Amy Tan's idea of being American is the antithesis of what being American is. Being American means you come from many cultures from all over the world. Amy identifies being American as: being white, high-class, and ignorant of other people's culture. I cannot agree less with Amy Tan when it comes to this line of thinking.
The American experience is not unfamiliar to me, I have been visiting America since I was a child and as a child I always wanted to move to America. My first visit here I fell in love with the culture specifically the freedom of expression. However the opportunity did not emerge for me to move to America legitimately and as promising young child, I did not want to damage my future by moving to a country illegally where I could not live to my full potential. I stayed in Jamaica and I completed my University education as a registered nurse and had become comfortable with my life in Jamaica. I started working the spring of 2013 and upon receival of my first paycheck, I was reminded that this is not the place I wanted to be.
My identity has always felt inextricably linked to what Miami is. A city that is teeming with immigrants, a city with dreams stacked and slopped atop each other, and a city that is living proof of the failed American dream. I say so because of my early observation that generation after generation of immigrants often seemed to stay trapped in dead end jobs; I saw this within my own family – within my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, and even my cousins. Here it was even within my own family tree the deep implicit message that there was no way out of our socioeconomic level. When I made it into an Ivy League college, it was a message that was slowly re-enforced by the fact that my demographic was the most represented in the custodial staff rather than within my own classmates.
I used to have this grudges in my heart when everything go hard that would made me wanted to blame my parent. But I can’t because I was not raise to think that way. When I come to America, I was eleven years old and no one asked me if I wanted to come it just happen in a second. I was in a cold place with extended family that I never met before and that one person who raise me and made me feel secure was still back in the country. I had to lived months without her and next thing you know I adapted and convince myself they are doing this because the wanted the best for me.
Anxiety, it’s the feeling that came over me when I arrived at the airport to come to America. I was born in Brasil, it was my home. So boy was I shocked when I heard that we were moving to the United States, and I was only six years old. My parents thought we would have a better life here in America because, with all the “opportunities” it offered, it was the place to be. My father flew over one month before I was scheduled to; he planned on getting everything situated by finding a job and a place for us to live.
On my father’s first day in America, he was shoved into a compact 1-person apartment along with two other refugees and was merely granted $19 a week to accommodate for basic expenses, including food and transportation. Despite such desperate circumstances, he maintained an optimistic outlook, and while hard times were ahead, my father knew that new opportunities were also awaiting him in the land where the American Dream thrives. My father initially left Vietnam as a last desperate hope to escape Vietnam’s strict communist government, where a future of military service was inevitable for young boys, who came from families of lower social statuses. As an orphan, my father fell victim to poverty and suffered from food insecurity and insufficient
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.
The American Dream is a dream of land and life that is far better and richer for all people based on challenges they face and duties they accomplish. Mainly people thought that the dream was of motor cars and high wages, but clearly its a dream where both men and women can attain to their fullest potential of which they are innately capable of. It 's possible that families who are struggling can change for the better or for the worse to neither or encourage or discourage a better life for their children. If finance is a hefty issue, it 's still never too late to adjust your living where your family can be wealthy in health and living instead of money itsself.
The United States is far from the American Dream. They shared overcrowded apartments and did the jobs no one else wanted. They faced language barriers, racism and unemployment, but they never failed to bring food to the table and a roof over my head. Growing up, I remember accompanying my mom to work. She would hand me off to my dad, who drove us home.
Robert H. Schuller once said “Let your hopes, not your hurts, shape your future. ”Growing up in a middle class family, I was a very mundane child; I go to schoolandgo out with friendslike most kids do, I wasn’t very into any sports, I just like playing out door. Meanwhile time passes on, and I was moved to America. Moving to the United State was a new beginning for me; becauseI have to learn everything about their culture. Sport in the U.S is very bigand popularto most people, so I startedto learn about them more and I started havinginterest
Immigration and The American Dream As an immigrant I may sound a bit biased, I will try my best to steer away from being biased. When I was a kid living in the Philippines I was motivated to learn and achieve high standards in school. A couple years later I was lucky enough to get into the United States to get in better a school system than the public school that was provided near my house in the Philippines as soon as I attended grade school in the states I noticed that my classmates did not have as big of motivation as I had to learn brand new knowledge being taught to me. This also bled out throughout the middle and then high school.
On a warm, early-June day, I found myself packing my things. In a small duffel bag, I stuffed in a few days’ clothes and my personal toiletries, then shuffled out of my bright blue and silver room, down the flight of stairs, and, only pausing to tell my parents I was leaving, out the door. Within a few minutes, I pulled my shiny red car into the drive of the place I would live for the next few years, though I didn’t know it then. The little brown ranch house facilitated most of my weekends and childhood summers for years, but I’d never thought it might evolutionize into my permanent home. In a few short weeks, heartbreaking news and the beginning of a long struggle would transform the lives of myself and my family.
My home in Texas was all I had known for most of my life. Of course, my family traveled on vacations and went to visit relatives, but I hadn’t known any other home. I enjoyed living in Texas. The weather was usually warm so I could normally play outside with my neighbors, we had a sizable backyard with a small little grove of trees in one of the far back corners and a swing set and I had a capacious room with a window looking out to the street.
The first eight years of my life, I spent in India where I was born. Growing up I was constantly reminded by my parents that I needed to make them proud by getting a good job and living a good lifestyle. They told me this because they did not want to see me live a hard life like they did. When I was nine years old, I moved from India to the United States of America. The reason why I moved to America was not because I was living a bad life in India, it was so that I could have a better education and more opportunities in life.
As a teenager moving to a new country with a different culture, different language, and being thousands of miles away from everyone I grew up with was not an easy change, however, that was precisely what I did in January of 2013 when I came to the United States with my father. My whole world changed since, and shaped my way of thinking. From learning English, adjusting to a new culture, experiencing my first snow and finding my way in my new country, my life has been an exciting adventure. My parents brought me to America almost 5 years ago to have a better life, and to get a better education.