Reflection

I was born in Glendora, California, and was raised here most of my life. Going through preschool all the way up to second grade, I was put through the American way of life. One day my dad surprises us with luggage and tells us were moving to where we are from, Palestine. At first, my brother sister and I were excited, however we didn’t know what was in store for us. It was weird that Palestine were we come from, yet we were not used to the way of life there. Everyone spoke mostly Arabic, whereas my siblings and I spoke very little of it. At school, different classes were taught like Arabic class and religion. Also the teacher was able to hit the student if they misbehaved, which was very unusual in our eyes. Everything was just so different there, the way people drove in the streets, the way people talked, school, clothes, and it was really hard to make friends with people who were so different from me. My sister and I were constantly getting in trouble with our Arabic teacher because we were one of the ones who just couldn’t get the alphabet or how to write in Arabic. For a year we struggled trying to get used to where we were and then came the war. It was hard watching planed above and hear the crashing noises everywhere and that’s when my dad decided we would move back to America. Finally we came back and I continued 4th grade in America. We visit Palestine every now and then, but we realized California was where we belong.