I need a little longer conclusion so i have to cut some stuff. 600 max word count. Thanks in advance.
The room was full of smiles and laughter. Strings of bright, intricately-cut papers swooped across the ceiling. Looking around, I could see people young and old talking, eating, dancing, and enjoying themselves. Enticed by the smell of tamales, I made my way to the food stand, handed a woman my ticket and in exchange, received a steaming plate of food and a cup of horchata. I sat down with my family to watch the shows; a mariachi band played folk music and a group of young girls in hand-sewn flouncy dressed performed a traditional Mexican dance.
My dad, a kindergarten teacher at Green Acres Elementary, had made this night possible: a Latin Festival for the students of his school aimed at making the Hispanic population feel at home. By putting the organization of this event in their hands, they gained a sense of empowerment and belonging. For likely one of the first times, society was raising their heritage into the spotlight rather than looking down on it.
Eager to follow my dad's example, I began to consider ways to give back to my community. Initially I rejected teaching as too simple; I couldn't just follow in my parents' footsteps. Yet, as I thought more and more about what I wanted to do, I kept coming back to the idea. As a teacher, I would have the ability to reach out to my students and help them succeed. I recalled the teachers who had influenced me and wished to be that influence in someone else's life. I started to picture myself in the classroom, at the board instead of behind a desk. My heritage would provide the perfect skill set. I was bilingual, allowing me to communicate with parents and students. My knowledge of cultural differences would help me understand a family's needs.
In fact, I'd already begun to make use of these traits at my daycare. Two Hispanic children, Jhonny and Dulce, came in one day, hardly able to speak a word of English. Although I had noticed they were a little shy, when their mother left the room, they started to cry inconsolably. The combined stresses of being left alone and not comprehending what was happening around them was too much to carry all at once. I started to speak to them in Spanish, asking them their names, their ages, questions about their day. After a few minutes, they calmed down. Then they surprised me. Out of nowhere, Jhonny asked, "żCĂłmo te llamas?" "żDe dĂłnde eres?" his little sister wanted to know. The connection I had been able to make with these children confirmed my desire to begin my career as a teacher. Now it was time to make progress towards it.
My parents continually emphasized my education so I came to regard my academic performance as an integral part of how I defined myself. These ideals could be traced back to my grandfather, a high-ranking officer in the Venezuelan navy who had been sent to MIT to study. The experience led him to value education, so when his own children finished high school, he decided to send all six of them, including my mom, to the US for college. Consequently, the same attitude towards education was passed down to me. Since I had always been expected to excel in school, I had the grades to get into the program of my choice and I decided to major in education at the University of Georgia.
My Hispanic heritage helped me find my passion and provided me with the academic motivation to turn that passion into a career.
The room was full of smiles and laughter. Strings of bright, intricately-cut papers swooped across the ceiling. Looking around, I could see people young and old talking, eating, dancing, and enjoying themselves. Enticed by the smell of tamales, I made my way to the food stand, handed a woman my ticket and in exchange, received a steaming plate of food and a cup of horchata. I sat down with my family to watch the shows; a mariachi band played folk music and a group of young girls in hand-sewn flouncy dressed performed a traditional Mexican dance.
My dad, a kindergarten teacher at Green Acres Elementary, had made this night possible: a Latin Festival for the students of his school aimed at making the Hispanic population feel at home. By putting the organization of this event in their hands, they gained a sense of empowerment and belonging. For likely one of the first times, society was raising their heritage into the spotlight rather than looking down on it.
Eager to follow my dad's example, I began to consider ways to give back to my community. Initially I rejected teaching as too simple; I couldn't just follow in my parents' footsteps. Yet, as I thought more and more about what I wanted to do, I kept coming back to the idea. As a teacher, I would have the ability to reach out to my students and help them succeed. I recalled the teachers who had influenced me and wished to be that influence in someone else's life. I started to picture myself in the classroom, at the board instead of behind a desk. My heritage would provide the perfect skill set. I was bilingual, allowing me to communicate with parents and students. My knowledge of cultural differences would help me understand a family's needs.
In fact, I'd already begun to make use of these traits at my daycare. Two Hispanic children, Jhonny and Dulce, came in one day, hardly able to speak a word of English. Although I had noticed they were a little shy, when their mother left the room, they started to cry inconsolably. The combined stresses of being left alone and not comprehending what was happening around them was too much to carry all at once. I started to speak to them in Spanish, asking them their names, their ages, questions about their day. After a few minutes, they calmed down. Then they surprised me. Out of nowhere, Jhonny asked, "żCĂłmo te llamas?" "żDe dĂłnde eres?" his little sister wanted to know. The connection I had been able to make with these children confirmed my desire to begin my career as a teacher. Now it was time to make progress towards it.
My parents continually emphasized my education so I came to regard my academic performance as an integral part of how I defined myself. These ideals could be traced back to my grandfather, a high-ranking officer in the Venezuelan navy who had been sent to MIT to study. The experience led him to value education, so when his own children finished high school, he decided to send all six of them, including my mom, to the US for college. Consequently, the same attitude towards education was passed down to me. Since I had always been expected to excel in school, I had the grades to get into the program of my choice and I decided to major in education at the University of Georgia.
My Hispanic heritage helped me find my passion and provided me with the academic motivation to turn that passion into a career.
