In 1988, I moved over to the United States as a 5 year old boy. Right away I was enrolled into school; not prepared and had no expectations of what to come. Over my first year in kindergarten, I struggled to make friends and wasn’t able to grasp any concepts in school because I did not understand a word of English. It further developed into a fear of waking up in the morning knowing that I will to be placed in an unfamiliar environment. As a result, my parents were called to come in to talk about my options. Everyone thought it was best for me to stay behind in kindergarten for another year.
It wasn’t easy for my parents to make this decision. After just one year in America, they had to hold back their son while their goals were to succeed in a “world of opportunities.” My mother and father were still adapting to an American life where hard work will lead to success; it is especially true for my family. In many ways, this seemed t
o be ironic, since my mother and father always wanted a bright and prosperous future for their children and right now, they are faced with a dilemma to single handedly hold back their son while wanting him to get ahead in this place where the relatives at home said this is “the land where the sidewalks is covered in gold, you just got to know how to pick it up”. This event, though seemed just a little bump in one’s life, my mother saw it as a parental failure. She must have felt that no matter how hard she tried to raise her children into successful scholars, her homeland could never provide for what her children really needed; she probably felt as though it was her fault that her son was kept behind a grade. Already before her American dream could begin, her dream was ruined. I saw it in her eyes every time she came to pick me up from school. I think on some level, it shattered heart to see that her son wasn’t achieving to his fullest.
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