Personal Narrative: My First Coming To America

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When I first came to America, I was 4 years old. I knew nothing about the country. The culture, the language, the customs, and the etiquette in America was something that I was never exposed to as I was born in China surrounded by my own people. All I have ever watched was Chinese cartoons and read Chinese children 's books, but nothing about America was ever introduced into my life. However, there was one thing that I was certain of about the country, that I will have a good life in the land of the free. When I first began kindergarten in America, I was 5 years old. I hardly knew English at all, not even the basic ABC’s. The only word that I knew in English was “hello,” but I didn’t use the greeting on my first day of school. I remembered vividly that I wore a pink and white striped shirt…show more content…
I also had a band-aid on my left elbow from my dad unsuccessfully trying to teach me how to ride a bike. I was nervous, extremely nervous. My mom drove me to school, and with her limited English skills, she introduced me to my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Smith. I hid behind my mom, tightly gripping her light blue silk blouse, as she tried to understand what the teacher was saying. Foreign words were exchanged with my mom’s broken English. Mrs. Smith bent down to my height and said hello to me but I was so scared that I couldn’t even reply with the only English word that I know. My mom told me in Chinese that she must leave me now and be good and listen to the teacher ironically even though I didn’t know any English. I started bawling and sobbing for her to not leave me as I
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