Adversity In My Life
For a long time now, my mother has been the sole supporter of my family. And in many ways, I wouldn't be writing this essay had it not been for her efforts to hold this family together, to keep us focused on our responsibilities. Including our education. This small excerpt has aroused several questions I’m sure: Why has my mother been the sole supporter? How has she inspired me to rise above our situation? Where is my father, meanwhile? All questions that will be answered within the proceeding synopsis of my life, which is not so much a story of exclusive loss, but one of progression in the face of adversity. In 2005, when I was six, we were forced to relocate to Jordan, as a result of unforeseen circumstances regarding my father. I
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It was a peculiar feeling, to say the least. My mother often reminds me that when we arrived, she only had $369. Nothing else. No savings, zero, nil, nada, zilch. And it only hit me the other day that at the time, technically, we were homeless. We had to live with a family friend for the first number of months. But things soon began to look up. We moved into a townhouse, which although we could hardly afford furniture, it was home. For once, everything was alright. I was attending a new elementary school, the fifth one I had been to, and I had new friends and great teachers. But I had continued to be treated as though English were my second language. I was deterred from reaching my full potential. The notion that I had to prove my ability in my own language, lingered for many more years, like a thorn in my side, however, it also made me more determined to excel. Fast forward until the end of fifth grade, again at a different school, in a different apartment, but nevertheless, my labor had begun to reach fruition. That year, I won the most awards in my class at our graduation, including the Rotary Club Award. And I was signed up for all honors classes in middle school as well. I had finally achieved a long awaited goal. But something, for all those years, was still missing. My
It was a peculiar feeling, to say the least. My mother often reminds me that when we arrived, she only had $369. Nothing else. No savings, zero, nil, nada, zilch. And it only hit me the other day that at the time, technically, we were homeless. We had to live with a family friend for the first number of months. But things soon began to look up. We moved into a townhouse, which although we could hardly afford furniture, it was home. For once, everything was alright. I was attending a new elementary school, the fifth one I had been to, and I had new friends and great teachers. But I had continued to be treated as though English were my second language. I was deterred from reaching my full potential. The notion that I had to prove my ability in my own language, lingered for many more years, like a thorn in my side, however, it also made me more determined to excel. Fast forward until the end of fifth grade, again at a different school, in a different apartment, but nevertheless, my labor had begun to reach fruition. That year, I won the most awards in my class at our graduation, including the Rotary Club Award. And I was signed up for all honors classes in middle school as well. I had finally achieved a long awaited goal. But something, for all those years, was still missing. My