Literary Narrative
Abstract
In this Essay I talk about my experience as a kid with language. How being an immigrant ESL student impacted me then and how it has affected who I am today.
How It All Started
It was 3rd grade and I was fresh off the boat as some would say, not knowing what English even was. I came in halfway through the year and as I walked into what would be my class for the time being, I already felt out of place. The teachers already knew of my situation and directed me to the back of the class where there was a rug in front of a board. Away from the desks and chairs with the other kids. I don’t really know if that was what you would call an ESL class, it was me and these two other girls back there, confused on why we were there, isolated in a way. We would stay in the class room all day learning English and the other subjects somewhat so that we could eventually join the rest of the class. It was hard learning another language when I barely considered myself as knowing Spanish, I wasn’t exactly the brightest student back in DR. And coming here it always felt like I was playing catch up and couldn’t help falling behind. Whenever my parents would ask me “Que hiciste en la escuela hoy?” I would always say things like “Na” or “El Ingles”. I thought since I was so lost there was no way they would understand if a tried to explain. Neither was I confident enough in my Spanish to articulate what I wanted to correctly, at this point in my life I was what you would call Bye-Lingual. However, I somehow managed and was out of ESL by the beginning of 5th grade. I believe this is due heavily to my teacher who specifically petitioned to the principal for our class to stay together one more year.
When I was finally deemed proficient enough in English in 5th grade and incorporated into the class I wasn’t completely lost but I knew there was a very glaring difference between me and the rest of the class. It was a new set of classmates and different teachers, I felt like I could finally have a fresh start where nobody knew I used to be in ESL, but the feeling wouldn’t shake. I was chubby as a kid, so I wasn’t exactly rolling with confidence. Even my own mother would comment on my appearance to others, especially my relatives. And my English had just become another thing for me to be insecure about on top of everything else. So, in front of the whole class I always felt like everyone was going to judge me on the first thing I said, like they all knew English wasn’t my first language. The teacher didn’t actively call on me, which I was honestly glad about because I was beyond nervous. I was very conscious of everything I did from answering simple questions in class to interacting with my peers in group work. I felt I always had something to prove about myself and immigrants in general. However rather than being something negative this mindset has helped me a lot throughout the course of my academic life.
With this mindset I realized just how much of a likely story I was. I knew I wasn’t the first immigrant to feel this way and I surely wouldn’t be the last. Many others had probably already gone through what I had and had the same thought process. I also realized that even outside of immigrants there are many others who probably think the same, that they have something to prove. And this is because we all have things we’re insecure about and reasons why we think we’re not doing enough or that we need to do more. I realized I wasn’t alone especially not in the Bronx, I had more in common with people than I thought. However, it wasn’t till high school that I realized this, in middle school I would always put on this character in front of my friends. I would never speak in Spanish despite them also being Hispanic, so while this when I was starting to become comfortable with who I was, I was essentially still rejecting a big part of me.
For many years in middle school I would blame my failures on outside factors like how I was bad at math due to me not spending as much time on it like the rest of my peers because of my English classes. As if me having been in them was a disadvantage to me when in reality they gave me a stepping stool that other people didn’t have. I didn’t understand how much of an advantage I had for knowing two languages at such a young age. Many of the immigrants that come here at an older age have a hard time learning English and would probably still have an accent if they did, much like my parents. I learned to be more appreciative of my opportunities and what my parents had sacrificed to make them available to me. It wasn’t until I finally accepted that side of me I had desperately hidden before, that I was truly comfortable and able to tell my parent “Me diverti mucho en la escuela hoy, hice …”
