Example Of Personal Narrative Essay
I was born into a blend of two cultures. I was raised in a Mexican-American household, my family of Mexican descent and the society around me American. I was living on American territory with Mexican customs and American expectations. My family wanted me to be better than they ever had the opportunity to be. My home became my safe place; My community was my shield. I grew up on both sides of the southernmost border of the United States of America. I have seen both sides of the border and they are very similar, you can only tell the difference when you watch from afar. I have always been a foreigner. Mexico saw me as an evolutionary step from my Mexican grown parents. America saw me as a minority with not many possibilities to grow
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into something relevant, but to my family I was always a chance to something greater.
A shot at greater education. A wish sent out to the world hoping it will come true.
Growing up on different sides without belonging to either shaped me in a certain way. I learned to be more compassionate and I have an appreciative view on the world. I was told I belonged to both Mexico and America, being Hispanic, but society treats you in a different way. For example, my Spanish wasn’t good enough for my Mexican relatives and my English wasn’t refined enough for the American society. I began to learn english when I was in second grade. My teacher believed that I was ready to face another challenge. She referred me to what we called a “transitioning program.” I was taken out of class several days per week the last few months of my second grade year. Finally after two or three months after I started third grade, I along a few other students began to split the time between a spanish and an english class. I still remember my first day in the first english speaking class I ever had. The first time there we took a spelling quiz on all english words, a test unlike any we had taken before, a test we hadn’t studied for. The teacher spoke directly to us in a mix of english and spanish telling us not to worry too much, he would later give us time to study
and retake the quiz. We took the quiz and we gave it the best we could and that was it. We went through the day a little disappointed but we forgot all about it during recess. The next day when we walked into our new english class, the teacher pulled me aside. He showed me my quiz grade; I had scored a perfect 100. He was very excited and told me I had a higher score than the other students who had been in class since the beginning of the year. My third grade teachers (from my english and spanish classrooms) aided me throughout that year to become successful in both languages. Even after I finished the third grade my teachers helped me whenever I had doubts. I speak, read, and write both languages equally but that isn’t enough. I was expected to live the American life so many people over the world wish to have. But how can I? I am not of white skin. I am brown skinned with brown eyes and brown hair. Average. To be an American was something completely different than what people seem to think. It’s much more than the fireworks on July 4th. It is appreciating the freedom that this country earned and keeping it alive today. It is not simple to be labeled as a minority and still be expected to live as any other American. It is hard to love this country when so many others want people like me, Mexican-Americans, to not carry the America in the name. But we do. We carry both proudly and we help each other. The people in my community didn’t care because they were similar to me. We were all the same in many ways but we each held an opportunity unlike the one from the person standing next to us. We were raised with the same customs but we each learned something different. We learned to be diverse but we stay together. We care for each other because we understand how hard it is. We are sensible to others because we often see our own suffering reflected on their faces. I always thought that life was very similar because we were so close to each other, only separated by a river. But the reality was the further away you were from the border, the less people were comfortable with brown skin and the Spanish language. I know I am Mexican-American. And I don’t want to chose just one. I am American but I am proud of my heritage and I will carry it with me as long as I live and pass it on. I am mixed and to me that is a privilege and worth every struggle that I have been through and that I will go through. Sometimes, I wasn’t too sure if I was ready to go out into a complicated world but now I am ready to take on my responsibilities as a Mexican-America.
into something relevant, but to my family I was always a chance to something greater.
A shot at greater education. A wish sent out to the world hoping it will come true.
Growing up on different sides without belonging to either shaped me in a certain way. I learned to be more compassionate and I have an appreciative view on the world. I was told I belonged to both Mexico and America, being Hispanic, but society treats you in a different way. For example, my Spanish wasn’t good enough for my Mexican relatives and my English wasn’t refined enough for the American society. I began to learn english when I was in second grade. My teacher believed that I was ready to face another challenge. She referred me to what we called a “transitioning program.” I was taken out of class several days per week the last few months of my second grade year. Finally after two or three months after I started third grade, I along a few other students began to split the time between a spanish and an english class. I still remember my first day in the first english speaking class I ever had. The first time there we took a spelling quiz on all english words, a test unlike any we had taken before, a test we hadn’t studied for. The teacher spoke directly to us in a mix of english and spanish telling us not to worry too much, he would later give us time to study
and retake the quiz. We took the quiz and we gave it the best we could and that was it. We went through the day a little disappointed but we forgot all about it during recess. The next day when we walked into our new english class, the teacher pulled me aside. He showed me my quiz grade; I had scored a perfect 100. He was very excited and told me I had a higher score than the other students who had been in class since the beginning of the year. My third grade teachers (from my english and spanish classrooms) aided me throughout that year to become successful in both languages. Even after I finished the third grade my teachers helped me whenever I had doubts. I speak, read, and write both languages equally but that isn’t enough. I was expected to live the American life so many people over the world wish to have. But how can I? I am not of white skin. I am brown skinned with brown eyes and brown hair. Average. To be an American was something completely different than what people seem to think. It’s much more than the fireworks on July 4th. It is appreciating the freedom that this country earned and keeping it alive today. It is not simple to be labeled as a minority and still be expected to live as any other American. It is hard to love this country when so many others want people like me, Mexican-Americans, to not carry the America in the name. But we do. We carry both proudly and we help each other. The people in my community didn’t care because they were similar to me. We were all the same in many ways but we each held an opportunity unlike the one from the person standing next to us. We were raised with the same customs but we each learned something different. We learned to be diverse but we stay together. We care for each other because we understand how hard it is. We are sensible to others because we often see our own suffering reflected on their faces. I always thought that life was very similar because we were so close to each other, only separated by a river. But the reality was the further away you were from the border, the less people were comfortable with brown skin and the Spanish language. I know I am Mexican-American. And I don’t want to chose just one. I am American but I am proud of my heritage and I will carry it with me as long as I live and pass it on. I am mixed and to me that is a privilege and worth every struggle that I have been through and that I will go through. Sometimes, I wasn’t too sure if I was ready to go out into a complicated world but now I am ready to take on my responsibilities as a Mexican-America.