Totoro
Nov 8, 2012
Undergraduate / 'My Chinglish sentences' - Common Application Main Essay [2]
January 22, 2010, was a defining moment in my life: the day I landed on American soil. Still fresh in my memory is how I sat in my ESL class, awkwardly mumbling my introduction and wracking my brain to write complex and compound sentences. Staring at a blank paper, wrinkling my face, and twirling my pen, I wistfully thought how easily I could have finished them in my native Chinese language. After six months, I shouted out in relief when I was allowed to move into Mrs. Sullivan's freshman English class.
However, waves of hardship did not subside for me right away in my new class. The more self-aware I was of my thick accent, limited vocabulary, and non-American appearance, the more I was excluded from the mainstream high school life, like a misfit. I remember my peers deliberately mimicking my Chinglish sentences, excitedly chatting with each other while leaving me alone, and reluctantly picking me as a member in group presentations. Worse still, "Popcorn Reading Time," in which Mrs. Sullivan randomly selected a student to read aloud, became the bane of my existence. Each day in class, I kept my head down, praying I would not be the unlucky victim. "Popcorn to Yuanyuan," Mrs. Sullivan proclaimed. Each hair on the back of my neck sprang to attention, as I heard whispers and imagined the menacing grins and contemptuous looks of my peers. Oh, how I wished to dig a hole and hide myself from humiliation!
Where was the once resilient girl? I reminded myself that, out of their love for me, and at great cost to them, my parents had brought me to this country for a better education and future. I had no option but to adapt. Without a moment to waste, I plunged myself into the sea of English vocabulary. In class, Mrs. Sullivan constantly had us work in groups and encouraged us to voice our opinions. With my new resolve, I warded off my concerns and participated. Shrugging off the fact that I could only share a couple of words while flipping through my dictionary, I knew that I would eventually communicate clearly. With newfound courage, I badgered my peers for correction, even as my mismatched words, like "pimkle" (a combination of "pickle" and "pimple"), often provoked laughter. Meanwhile, committing myself to collaborating in group presentations and learning both to respect and tolerate my peers, I came to view my once-daunting English class as full of warmth and upbeat energy, and began to make some long-lasting friends.
Bit by bit, I have grown from a timid, self-conscious immigrant into an open-minded, sociable senior. Now, I'm enjoying English literature with an overwhelming and insatiable thirst-in my AP English class. I have taken on the responsibility of leading, as President, both the Asian Culture and DECA club at school. In addition, I privately tutor a needy immigrant student.
Recently, in my AP English Literature class, my teacher asked us to give a speech about something we believe in. I, the same girl who once shuddered during "Popcorn Reading Time," confidently declared: "I believe in obstacles, because they allow me to step out of my comfort zone and try to reach my limit... I believe that whenever and whatever obstacles lie in our path, we should charge ahead with the strength of a ram, dashing until our ambitions are achieved."
January 22, 2010, was a defining moment in my life: the day I landed on American soil. Still fresh in my memory is how I sat in my ESL class, awkwardly mumbling my introduction and wracking my brain to write complex and compound sentences. Staring at a blank paper, wrinkling my face, and twirling my pen, I wistfully thought how easily I could have finished them in my native Chinese language. After six months, I shouted out in relief when I was allowed to move into Mrs. Sullivan's freshman English class.
However, waves of hardship did not subside for me right away in my new class. The more self-aware I was of my thick accent, limited vocabulary, and non-American appearance, the more I was excluded from the mainstream high school life, like a misfit. I remember my peers deliberately mimicking my Chinglish sentences, excitedly chatting with each other while leaving me alone, and reluctantly picking me as a member in group presentations. Worse still, "Popcorn Reading Time," in which Mrs. Sullivan randomly selected a student to read aloud, became the bane of my existence. Each day in class, I kept my head down, praying I would not be the unlucky victim. "Popcorn to Yuanyuan," Mrs. Sullivan proclaimed. Each hair on the back of my neck sprang to attention, as I heard whispers and imagined the menacing grins and contemptuous looks of my peers. Oh, how I wished to dig a hole and hide myself from humiliation!
Where was the once resilient girl? I reminded myself that, out of their love for me, and at great cost to them, my parents had brought me to this country for a better education and future. I had no option but to adapt. Without a moment to waste, I plunged myself into the sea of English vocabulary. In class, Mrs. Sullivan constantly had us work in groups and encouraged us to voice our opinions. With my new resolve, I warded off my concerns and participated. Shrugging off the fact that I could only share a couple of words while flipping through my dictionary, I knew that I would eventually communicate clearly. With newfound courage, I badgered my peers for correction, even as my mismatched words, like "pimkle" (a combination of "pickle" and "pimple"), often provoked laughter. Meanwhile, committing myself to collaborating in group presentations and learning both to respect and tolerate my peers, I came to view my once-daunting English class as full of warmth and upbeat energy, and began to make some long-lasting friends.
Bit by bit, I have grown from a timid, self-conscious immigrant into an open-minded, sociable senior. Now, I'm enjoying English literature with an overwhelming and insatiable thirst-in my AP English class. I have taken on the responsibility of leading, as President, both the Asian Culture and DECA club at school. In addition, I privately tutor a needy immigrant student.
Recently, in my AP English Literature class, my teacher asked us to give a speech about something we believe in. I, the same girl who once shuddered during "Popcorn Reading Time," confidently declared: "I believe in obstacles, because they allow me to step out of my comfort zone and try to reach my limit... I believe that whenever and whatever obstacles lie in our path, we should charge ahead with the strength of a ram, dashing until our ambitions are achieved."
