Author: Michelle (Page 2 of 3)

I was never a problematic child. In school I was shy. I never spoke back to teachers and just let them talk to me however they pleased. It stayed like this until my second year in middle school. My school was sorting out schedules and because of it I was transferred into a new class. I was transferred 3 weeks late into the school year so everyone had already gotten their assigned seats and classes had already started teaching. I walked into what would be my science and homeroom for the rest of the year. It had 3 rows of medium sized desks. Two kids sat at one desk. There was a large chalkboard in front of the classroom with disney magnets on it, and in front of it was a long tall black table with two sinks on each side. When I walked in I introduced myself to the teacher and told her I was just transferred into her class. I asked her where I should sit and she didn’t answer me the first time. She then proceeded to raise her voice and said “what are you doing, go to the back and sit”. I didn’t think much about it at first and figured I must have just interrupted her lesson and she was annoyed. As the school year progressed I noticed the teachers behavior towards me began to get worse and worse. She was constantly making degrading comments towards me. When I was struggling with work she would call me up to the board to answer questions and when I couldn’t do it she would humiliate me. She had even stopped by my other classes to tell my teachers how much of a bad student I was in front of my class and I. However, what stuck with me most is that whenever I spoke in spanish she would question me and try to get me to say what I had said out loud and in english. As a young girl I was still shy to mention my period around others. I was still under the impression that periods were taboo. Therefore if I needed a menstrual product I would ask a friend in spanish. One time during class We were in the middle of work and I needed a pad so I proceeded to ask my friend in spanish if she had one. My teacher then proceeded to say, “Michelle, is there anything you want to say out loud instead of just to your friend” I proceeded to tell her no but she kept insisting and I said I was just asking her for a pad. After class she continued to ask my friend “what did Michelle really tell you”. I remember hearing that and feeling so disrespected and devastated. This behavior went on for the rest of the school year. I nearly failed her class because of it. However, despite being a quiet child, I realized that there were students who were louder than me, yet she allowed it. I noticed there would be students talking and being disrespectful, yet she allowed it. It made me think, what was so different? What separated me, and those other kids? And then I realized the only difference was our race. As a mexican american I was categorized as a trouble maker. Yet the white kids were able to go and do as they please. I didn’t understand why. A majority of my friends in middle school were hisapnic as well. While talking to them I realized that they were dealing with similar issues regarding the same teacher. One of my friends then stated that on the first day of school she told him, “Oh I already know i’m not going to like you. You’re a troublemaker” I was baffled when I heard this. How could this teacher treat all the minorities so poorly? As the school year progressed I began to grow tired of her behavior. I thought it was unfair for her to let other students slide yet she was so strict with the minorities. I began to become vocal, If she would say something diminishing I would defend myself. This didn’t help my grade in her class but I was so fed up with the treatment I had been putting up with. Then one day I remember getting into an argument with her. I don’t remember what it was about, or what caused it. But I do remember shouting at her. She proceeded to call my school’s vice principal who then escorted me out of the room. As soon as I left the room I broke down crying. I began hyperventilating, and realized I was having a panic attack. I realized that this was all the frustration I had been holding all year. When the vice principal helped calm me down I proceeded to tell her what happened. I told her about the way she had been mistreating and humiliating me throughout the whole school year. Despite being in shock I was also proud. This was the first time I had ever stood up for myself against an adult. This one incident helped kickstart my career in activism and student rights. After telling the vice principal about what happened I was sent back to class with no punishment being done. My science teacher was furious to see me walk back in as if nothing happened. Upon coming home I had explained to my parents what was happening and they arranged a meeting with the principal, vice principal, dean, and teacher. The meeting was rescheduled several times because the teacher refused to meet with my parents. However after getting tired of waiting my parents dropped in unannounced and demanded they had the meeting. The teacher had to be forced to meet with them. I was sent out of the room because of how poorly the teacher spoke of me. However despite all that I was proud that I could finally stand up for myself. To whoever may read this; You have the right to stand up to what you believe is right. It’s okay to speak up against an adult if you feel they are trying to make you less than you really are. 

Reviewers Memo 

Throughout my narrative I tried to vividly depict my school life and describe it in a way in which the reader could imagine it. I included details about the class room I was in, as well as conversations I had. I want the reader to realize that they don’t have to deal with what teachers say simply because they are teachers. I feel confident about this project so far but I still feel like I might not know how to organize my thoughts properly. I’m also curious to see what you have to say about my story. Should I change the format? Should I reword it differently? Was I able to portray my message properly?

Upon reading José’s educational narrative I noticed that he set the tone from the beginning of his writing. He was also careful with his word choices. He spoke as if he was giving advice to someone. I feel like this is important when writing an educational narrative. The reader should be able to relate to your story and be able to take what you said and apply it to their life. To start my educational narrative I feel like I should talk about my middle school experience and the discrimination that I was faced with as a young Mexican student. In the text José says, ” I wanted to write poems in a way that might give a young person in similar circumstances some comfort.” I also want to be able to write like him. I want someone to read my story and be able to take something from it. I don’t want someone to read it and still feel lost in their journey.  The purpose of my narrative is for the reader to feel like they’re not alone. That someone has experienced what they’re going through and was able to make it out of it.  My only concern with writing my Narrative is that I won’t be able to portray my message and advice the way I want. I fear that I might be unclear with my writing and won’t be of any help at all. I’m not sure how I’m going to start my narrative. I struggle with introductions and fear I won’t be able to catch the readers attention. I want to make sure my writing is for everyone who has faced discrimination.

Growing up, both my parents were fluent in english so I never had much of a struggle relating to any types or forms of english. However I did watch as others did.  Tan says, “The fact that people in department stores , at banks, and at restaurants did not take her seriously, did not give her good service, pretended not to understand her or even acted as if they did not hear her”. I have witnessed this first hand with my grandmother who speaks very little english. I had walked away from her for a bit to grab something from another isle, when I came back to her she was asking a worker for help on where something was. Instead of being polite and patient, he was rude and kept trying to walk away from her.  When I had asked what the problem was he simply stated that he didn’t understand her, meanwhile she had an image on her phone of the item she wanted. Tan also talks about helping her mother when it came to phone calls or important information. I’ve watched my mother take phone calls for my grandma pretending to be her. My mom would listen and take the phone call, and then after, translate what the person on the phone said to my grandma. My mom also helps my grandma with important documents she might need.  My grandma relies on my mom, aunts, and cousins, to do this for her because she cannot do it herself. I have also heard from close friends, that this is also what they have to go through because their parents do not speak english. Although I personally have not gone through the hardships that come along with the english language, I have witnessed and heard many stories based on other people struggles.