Guyana My Birth Country
When I first arrived here in America it was a fresh new start and the beginning of the road to “The American Dream” which at first seemed like a nightmare. Coming from a small village in Guyana, New York had quite the impact on me. I lived with my uncle on Long Island, New York immediately upon arriving in America. I kept gazing at everything around me. I took my first steps around my neighborhood when I came across some kids playing in the streets. Suddenly I wondered what my new school would be like, but first I had to find a way to communicate better to make friends. The cultural differences were very noticeable as I looked around at strangers as I was wandering
around. I had been so use to colloquial dialect
(slang) and tried my best to sway away from it by watching the news and other shows that came on T.V.
As I walked into my Junior High School for the first time, I was astonished at how large the building looked. It was several stories high and I was only accustomed to two story buildings back in Guyana. I remember being so nervous my palms began to sweat as I approached the colossal construction. Upon entering the building I was greeted by a security guard. ” Welcome to Baldwin Junior High!” he exclaimed. I timidly nodded my head as I walked by him. I walked around blindly for almost an hour before I gained enough courage to ask a teacher for directions. I came upon a tall woman with glasses on. She looked knowledgeable, so I asked her for directions. She could tell how clueless I was and offered to take me to my class. She led me towards an elevator and we got in. It was the first time I had ever been on or seen an elevator and although it only lasted a minute it felt like an eternity. We soon got out and she began walking speedily down the hall as I struggled to keep up with her long strides before she abruptly stopped. “Well, this is your homeroom class!” she smiled as she looked down at me.
I slowly crept into the classroom and examined all of my classmates. The kids looked at me weirdly as I entered the room. I never felt so out of place in all of my life. I admired all of the fashionable clothes the kids were wearing and how cheerful their faces appeared. A girl approached me and greeted me. She had long wavy hair, a plaid skirt and black shoes. “Hi, my name is Sarah”, she said as she blushed. We conversed and I found out she was also new to the class. She would soon become one of my very first friends in America.
The homeroom teacher came into the room and looked at everyone before sitting down. He was a short, medium build man with dark brown eyes. He wore a blue suit which made him look almost businesslike. “Hello, my name is Mr. John”, he said. He spoke with a British accent and a very stern voice. The homeroom teacher told everyone to introduce themselves briefly. My stomach muscle tightened as it approached my turn. It became as silent as the dead while I introduced myself. When I was finished I felt so relieved and realized it wasn’t that bad.
Looking back, I see how significant my experience was and how it shaped the type of person I am today. At the time I was anti-social, I’m now more confident with myself. My communication skills are a lot better than before. Taking all these risks has been very rewarding. I focused on journalism in my high school and wrote for the school’s paper. What I have learned from this experience will forever be in my mind. I’ve put my anxiety and weakness aside and embraced my strengths and successes. My endeavor is to keep on achieving goals that seem far from reach.
Image Credit : Guyana