My First Words

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“Èchale ganas mija, estudia, para que seas alguien en la vida,” would say my parents since an early age. These words have marked me; given me the reminder that I must keep giving it my all for a formal higher education. Now, you might be wondering what do those words mean? Well, to my translation, they mean “give it your all honey, study, so that you can be a somebody in this world.” Of course, maybe some parents say similar things to their kids, but to me it’s on a whole other level. Growing up, according to my dad, who has the coolest mustache almost like Pancho Villa’s, my first words were “papa bonito.” Although my mom, the woman with a smile so radiant like the sun on a warm summer day with birds chirping and the grass so green, laughs hysterically and contradicts him my saying that my ACTUAL first words were “mama bonita”. Furthermore, I may not ever know what my first words were, but if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that it consisted of baby words mixed with Spanish words. Unlike most families in the United States, my family only spoke Spanish. I grew up with Spanish being my first language, it was my normal, until I went to school. Preschool through first grade where kind of a blur and it wasn’t till second grade that I remember how only being a Spanish speaker affected me. Every day during reading hour of school I’d be pulled aside from my class to follow Mrs. Smith, who was such a nice lady with long white hair that was so straight it could almost be
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