Looking at my transcripts of the past four years, I could not believe that the same numbers could evoke such contrasting feelings. I remember studying class notes, old quizzes, and homework packages without feeling any regret. All I knew was that it had taken me eight years to earn A's in all my courses, learn how to make samosas, and adapt to Caribbean idiosyncrasies, and I knew I could not give up. For the past three years, what gave me the boost to work was the smile that would surface as I received my report card. I believed that a high grade would be one step closer to relieving my parents of life as "chinos". However, looking at my accumulated GPA, I realized that after heaps of spelling books and English translators, I was no different than any other straight A student. How many highest honors students with exceptional community service hours are there after all? That bewilderment erupted into agony I could never have imagined as I began to wonder if I had anything that would set me aside, but fortunately the answer was in the footprint I had forsaken.
"What you doing, cash me chino," growled the angry customer.
I was fifteen. I had just come home from my weekly visit to the Senior Citizen's Home and I had homework. I could not "cash her", but I knew I had to.
Observing the size-5 foot imprint engraved into the cement floor, I looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. I can still remember the day when I first arrived on the island, eager to seek pirates (I was five). As I stepped into the store, I remember stamping into the wet cement, thereby engraving my foot into it. I am now seventeen and these would be my last eight months on the 34 square mile island of St. Maarten. I feel like I have lived a lie that I could not tell my neighbors or even my best friend about. Deemed as the "friendly island", St. Maarten has emerged to be a decade long exam, testing my volume of fate and resilience.
Growing up inside the four walls of the grocery store, I recognized the contrasts I had with my friends, each subtle difference intensifying as I grew older. At first, the distinctions were trivial: I remember asking my mom why the channels on my television only portrayed people selecting packages of corn and sweet potatoes. As I witnessed life-threatening incidents and vulgarities, I realized that I became distant from my peers. While they revered idols and stars, I revered my parents for their audacity. I grew up reading the articles regarding robberies and murders, but I could not help thinking, did not my peers? Why were they oblivious to their surroundings? I have finally realized the answer: I have lived through these events and did not have to read the articles to understand. With the obstacles I encountered at the early age, I realized that I have become more determined than my peers.
Indeed, perspectives change depending on the side of the see-saw one is riding on, but like a see-saw, each seat has its flaws and streaks. I am glad I know the differences.
"What you doing, cash me chino," growled the angry customer.
I was fifteen. I had just come home from my weekly visit to the Senior Citizen's Home and I had homework. I could not "cash her", but I knew I had to.
Observing the size-5 foot imprint engraved into the cement floor, I looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. I can still remember the day when I first arrived on the island, eager to seek pirates (I was five). As I stepped into the store, I remember stamping into the wet cement, thereby engraving my foot into it. I am now seventeen and these would be my last eight months on the 34 square mile island of St. Maarten. I feel like I have lived a lie that I could not tell my neighbors or even my best friend about. Deemed as the "friendly island", St. Maarten has emerged to be a decade long exam, testing my volume of fate and resilience.
Growing up inside the four walls of the grocery store, I recognized the contrasts I had with my friends, each subtle difference intensifying as I grew older. At first, the distinctions were trivial: I remember asking my mom why the channels on my television only portrayed people selecting packages of corn and sweet potatoes. As I witnessed life-threatening incidents and vulgarities, I realized that I became distant from my peers. While they revered idols and stars, I revered my parents for their audacity. I grew up reading the articles regarding robberies and murders, but I could not help thinking, did not my peers? Why were they oblivious to their surroundings? I have finally realized the answer: I have lived through these events and did not have to read the articles to understand. With the obstacles I encountered at the early age, I realized that I have become more determined than my peers.
Indeed, perspectives change depending on the side of the see-saw one is riding on, but like a see-saw, each seat has its flaws and streaks. I am glad I know the differences.