Seattle. The coffee capital was covered in trees. It was a beautiful neighborhood with children giggling and running like little puppies. If I knew what kind of things were waiting for me at school, I wouldn't have been excited to go. However, as I knew nothing, I just couldn't wait to go to school and meet new friends.
Everyone stared. They were all looking at me like I came from a different planet. It would have been pleasant if those stares were warm, but unfortunately, they were nothing of the kind. I did not quite like the smell of the yellow school bus. Something about it made me feel uncomfortable. As I tried to find a seat, I could feel a lot of the kids still staring at me behind my back; some were even glaring. Feeling very awkward, I found an empty seat, but as soon as I tried to sit in it, the white girl sitting in the seat next to the empty one said, "This seat is taken. Go find another one." At first, I did believe her. It did not seem like she was lying. However, as we were coming close to school, I found out that she just did not want to sit next to the "new Asian girl."
Here I was, standing in front of the school building, thinking about my friends back home. What were they doing? Did they even miss me? I washed the thoughts out, struggling to look like someone who actually belonged to this country.
"Kids, this is Rebecca. Give her a warm welcome." Rebecca was a temporary name I used only for the first year in America. Luckily, everyone in my new class seemed nice. What I did not realize at the moment was that some of them were just pretending to be nice in front of the teacher.
"Hey, this is what we do when anyone wears new shoes, okay?" One of the white girls in my class made this statement as she stepped on my clean, white pair of shoes. It was recess, and no supervisors were around. I was all alone with no adult to help me. Although I felt very uncomfortable, I tried to believe them.
"There, we can be friends now." A little Indian girl said this with a mean smirk on her face. Since I was new, there was no one to hang out with, and I thought it would be okay to hang out with these girls who welcomed me with a little "ceremony" of theirs. Besides, it'd be better than being a loner. Although they did not make me feel so welcome, I thought I would be okay until someone hurt me both inside and out.
"Hey!" I looked around for the culprit, but he or she had already run away from the scene. Blood ran down my right leg, but I did not cry; I couldn't. I held tears in both of my eyes, but I just could not let them roll down my cheeks. It would be like telling the world that I couldn't survive in the new country I was destined to spend the rest of my life in. I wanted to be strong. Limping, I struggled as hard as I could to get to the door of our classroom. I leaned on the walls, thinking about what worse things were waiting for me.
The only things I could say in English were "no" and "yes." I could not speak in full sentences. Since it was recess, I waited for the teacher to come to the classroom. I used a lot of body language to first get her attention, then deliver whatever message I had to tell her. I pointed to my bleeding knee, and shaped a square with my fingers to let her know that I needed a band-aid. At first, she was confused, but she got my message and put a band-aid on my knee. Unfortunately, however, I couldn't tell her that someone had intentionally tripped me. I left it a secret until I left the school, but the memory is so vivid that I'll never forget the exact moment.
My mom told me later that she never saw anything paler than my face on the first day of school. I did not say anything about the little bad things that happened to me on that day because I knew it would make her upset.
First days of school are usually fun and exciting for most people. For me, the first day of school in a new country was the worst day of my life. I saw dirt, blood, and got glares from people I did not even know. Although it was a horrible day, it helped me become stronger and try harder to fit in, to become an American. Bad experiences don't always influence a person negatively. Rather, they can help you get ready for the storm. This first day of school was the first step of becoming a stronger person inside. It got me prepared for the struggles I'd face in life, and when I look back, I'm actually glad of all the bad things that happened in my first day of school in Seattle.
Your story is impressive and I can see that you learned a lot from the experience. I liked your direct quotes in the story because it made the experience seem more real and vivid. The quote of the white girl in the bus really made me think of an image of a meanest girl.
ReplyDeleteI think your introduction can be a better hook if you have more direct introduction of your experience in the beginning part. Because your first two sentences are just descriptions of the settings and you don't have a title of your story on the top, I wasn't able to expect what your story was going to be.
While reading your story, I had some questions in my minds, "How did you get along with the mean girls afterwards?" "In what way did you become a stronger person?" I think you can add more specific details about how you overcame the experience. I believe it would make your story much more touching and interesting.
201202334 Kweonho Lee
A. Dude, I can exactly relate to your story so almost everything seemed very real to me. I also entered the first grade in elementary in the US without knowing a single word of English, so I feel your pain sister! However, your paragraph talking about using body language helped me illustrate what you went through that moment.
ReplyDeleteB. I just got a little confused when the indian girl said there we can be friends now. Was she there when the white girl stepped on your shoes? And what was the ceremony? The shoe stepping? I think clearing this up would get rid of any confusion.
C. Your first paragraph is very creative, but after reading your essay and what it is about, I think you can change it up to something more strong and pulling. For instance, instead of drawing a scenery of Seattle for the readers, it would be more powerful to start off with something like your second paragraph, first sentence.
D. No major problems with major either. Just maybe you can make the last sentence better by changing the of to for and in to on. Also, second to last paragraph, the adjective little is ambiguous in that sentence. Do you mean few? I think you can also just omit it to make it better and add the "had" before happened (past perfect tense).
E. I agree with Kweonho, i would like to know how this experience has helped you become a stronger person.
-GOOD JOB ALYSSA
201203937 Young Woo Kim
201300001 Alyssa Yoo
ReplyDeleteEssay 1 Final Draft
The New "Asian" Girl
I tripped. Blood ran down my knee like little drops of tears. When it did stop, I noticed something; it was the same spot that had been cut years ago. It reminded me of my first day in school at Silverlake.
Everyone stared. They were all looking at me like I came from a different planet. It would have been pleasant if those stares were warm, but unfortunately, they were nothing of the kind. I did not quite like the smell of the yellow school bus. Something about it made me feel uncomfortable. As I tried to find a seat, I could feel a lot of the kids still staring at me behind my back; some were even glaring. Feeling very awkward, I found an empty seat, but as soon as I tried to sit in it, the white girl sitting in the seat next to the empty one said, “This seat is taken. Go find another one.” At first, I did believe her. It did not seem like she was lying. However, as we were coming close to school, I found out that she just did not want to sit next to the “new Asian girl.”
Here I was, standing in front of the school building, thinking about my friends back home. What were they doing? Did they even miss me? I washed the thoughts out, struggling to look like someone who actually belonged to this country.
“Kids, this is Rebecca. Give her a warm welcome.” Rebecca was a temporary name I used only for the first year in America. Luckily, everyone in my new class seemed nice. What I did not realize at the moment was that some of them were just pretending to be nice in front of the teacher.
ReplyDelete“Hey, this is what we do when anyone wears new shoes, okay?” One of the white girls in my class made this statement as she stepped on my clean, white pair of shoes. It was recess, and no supervisors were around. I was all alone with no adult to help me. Although I felt uncomfortable, I tried to believe them.
“There, we can be friends now since we’re done with our traditional welcome.”
A little Indian girl said this with a mean smirk on her face. Since I was new, there was no one to hang out with, and I thought it would be okay to hang out with these girls who welcomed me with a little “ceremony” of theirs. Besides, it’d be better than being a loner. Although they did not make me feel so welcome, I thought I would be okay until something terrible happened.
“Hey!” I looked around for the culprit, but he or she had already run away from the scene. Blood ran down my right leg, but I did not cry; I couldn’t. I held tears in both of my eyes, but I just could not let them roll down my cheeks. It would be like telling the world that I couldn’t survive in the new country I was destined to spend the rest of my life in. I wanted to be strong. Limping, I struggled as hard as I could to get to the door of our classroom. I leaned on the walls, thinking about what worse things were waiting for me.
The only things I could say in English were “no” and “yes.” I could not speak in full sentences. Since it was recess, I waited for the teacher to come to the classroom. I used a lot of body language to first get her attention, then deliver whatever message I had to tell her. I pointed to my bleeding knee, and shaped a square with my fingers to let her know that I needed a band-aid. At first, she was confused, but she got my message and put a band-aid on my knee. Unfortunately, however, I couldn’t tell her that someone had intentionally tripped me. I left it a secret until I left the school, but the memory is so vivid that I’ll never forget the exact moment.
First days of school are usually fun and exciting for most people. For me, the first day of school in a new country was the worst day of my life. I saw dirt, blood, and got glares from people I did not even know. Although it was a horrible day, it helped me become stronger and try harder to fit in, to become an American. Bad experiences don’t always influence a person negatively. Rather, they can help you get ready for the storm. This first day of school was the first step of becoming a stronger person inside. It got me prepared for the struggles I’d face in life, and when I look back, I’m actually glad of all the bad things that happened in my first day of school in Seattle.