1. My Journey as an Immigrant
... and my grandma. My father brought us to Tijuana, a city close to the borderlands (Schaefer, 2012, p. 229). From Tijuana, we were supposed to walk for a few hours. They simply tricked me into coming. I can still remember my mother telling me that everything was going to be okay and that it was a happy day and to take it as a trip. I listen to my mother like a good little girl and ... night in a horrible place called jail. The next morning, we were all released and sent back to Tijuana. The sun was hot and the pavement was burning, I can still remember the pain that I felt on my bare feet...
- Word Count: 1987
- Approx Pages: 8
- Has Bibliography
- Grade Level: High School