2nd essay draft 2

                                                  Different Childhoods Different Folks

 When I was growing up, I did not think I was different or weird, and I thought everyone was like me. I began school in Nicaragua. My first language was Spanish. I could read,  speak, and write it. The school was all Spanish it was nice we all played together. I loved it, but then we had to go back to California for my dads’ work. I felt excited, plus it was just for three months. I went to this school. I did not like it. It wasn’t like my old school, oh, and great I did not speak English. It did not hit me till they all spoke to me I was so confused I panicked and started to cry I remember crying and looking at everyone kids and teachers staring at me which made me cry more. I felt alone, and I did not want to tell my parents they did not speak English either, and they wouldn’t cry about it like I was neither would my older brothers. I started classes in this in-school program called ESL, which meant English Second Language my teachers’ name was Miss Luna she was the nicest lady I had meant at the school probably because she spoke my language and we could understand each other. In Miss Luna’s class, it was painted with purple painted walls and yellow construction paper words that were in English common words like hi, my name is. I actually met other kids my age that did not speak English. Now one would think we all speak Spanish; we are the same, right? Wrong! See the thing is with Mexican Nicaraguan or any Latin state, the type and dialect of Spanish is different. So guess who the only kid that wasn’t Mexican was there me. Ding. Ding. So as soon as I felt comfortable, I started feeling uncomfortable again. They were not mean they would say things like I love your accent like every time I would speak. I started learning English. When as soon as I mastered English it was time to move again but not back to Nicaragua . We were going to Florida. Miami was interesting a lot of other latino countries meshed into one city I really didn’t need English there. Everyone spoke Spanish it was like Nicaragua but better because it was America. School was good most kids there had immigrant parents like me. Then we went back to Nicaragua. Everything went back to normal which I missed we would go back and fourth from America to central America. It got tiring but at least I would still go back to my norm at one point of the year. Until my Father decided he wanted to retire in Tucson, Arizona . I was so angry I felt like my whole life was just crumbling I did not want to move to Tucson, Arizona I had visited Tucson several times and it was not “cute” it was ugly honestly compared to all the other places I been there was no grass or flowers scattered everywhere like I was used to. I was crying the whole way to Tucson that didn’t matter my parents didn’t care. I started going to school and I was miserable I didn’t want to talk to anyone I wanted to die. The first day this kid named Gabe called me a freak. I wasn’t as fluent in English as I am now. I thought to myself  what is a Freak? I had no idea what it was I didn’t want to ask my ESL teacher I was to embaressed. When I got home I asked my older brother what a freak was he told me it was really bad he said it was basically calling me a wierdo. I started to cry and the next day I had to go to school I was dreading it. I pretended to be sick my mom wouldn’t let me stay home. So I had to go to school I was really upset