Alyssa Yoo/Second Post/Narrative Composition/ Tues. 9-11 a.m.

    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 still feel a lot of the kids 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 meanly 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 nearing 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 (my name was Rebecca back then). Give her a warm welcome." 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. I was innocent enough to believe that this was a part of American culture.

  "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 I did not feel comfortable, I thought I would be okay until someone hurt me both physically and psychologically.

  "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 communicate the fact 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.