Essay On I Want To Be An Immigrant

Dropped in a foreign land at the tender age of two, I was too young to remember life in my homeland yet too old not to forget the painful, permanent mark of an immigrant. As a first- generation immigrant, I had to learn English and take the helms of steering my own education without the privilege of my parents at home. Growing up, I remember my mother working two jobs and my father working graveyard shifts in to sustain our family. I watched as they struggled to ensure a better life for me. However, long hours and tight financial situations reach a boiling point even for those steadfast. I witnessed the financial struggles of being an immigrant family tear my family apart at the age of fourteen. I watched my father’s health deteriorate as he fights to put food on the table and provide for his two young daughters since I was the age of fifteen.
Seeing both my parents work to attain the glorious idea of the American Dream not only for themselves but for myself and my siblings, I have learned tenacity and compassion. Tenacity to push forward through the difficulties of juggling school, work, internship, and extra-curricular activities to pursue my unconventional dreams. Compassion in understanding that life deals misfortune, and it is in helping others to overcome it that one overcomes adversity himself. While my perseverance and compassion for others seems to lead me in the direction of the medical field, unfortunately for my parents, I am far from it. I seek to aid others and myself in this perilous journey through life not by ensuring good health, but through education in museums. I believe that art and the humanities is worth learning and worth teaching. Although the career path I have chosen for myself is a gamble, it is worth the risk. Because after all, I would not be where I am today had my parents not taken a leap of