An identity, interest or talent, should be an easy prompt for anyone. Yet for me, it wasn't. I scrambled and searched, racking my brain endlessly and still couldn't write more than a few paragraphs. Then I go the idea that maybe I’m just not in the right head space, so I asked the people around me. What defines me? Whats a talent or identity that I have? I even went as far as to ask my best friend what's an interest that I have. They were confused because shouldn't I know myself, but without fail they answered. “Oh your funny, loyal, compassionate, you lead by example, you love music, you're persistent, you are hispanic and you're transgender. You have so much to write about!” And it hit me, I work to build everyone up and making sure they're
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Due to circumstances out of my control we ended up in Oklahoma for 10 years. Those 10 years my dad was back and forth with deployment. In those 10 years, despite the town being its own little melting pot, it became painfully obvious that I was Mexican. There were other hispanics, but most that I found were from South America, either like me and second generation or like my parents first generation American. Not just that but I also felt like I was raised viewing my dad through a glass wall, or a computer screen. After 10 years of being in one place I was stripped of everything and of all comfort zones, we moved back to Texas following the retirement of my dad. We came to a small town and for two out of three years i've been bitter and hateful. I would do anything to get out of this forsaken town. However, now my last year here, I’ve stopped to really look around. I’m happier than I've been in a while, I’ve got better friends, met teacher who really cared for me and so much more. Despite lacking that undeniable feeling of utter belonging or home, I don't hate it here. I had to grow up so to speak and learn to appreciate what was infront of me.
My freshman year in high school through the haze of teen angst, school work, social pressures, and uncertainty, it hit me I want to be a teacher. I want to become a teacher, not for the luxury of a summer break or so I don't have to work in a cubicle, but so I can change kids lives. I want to be the teacher they will always remember, fondly i hope, and if no one else is there, I want to be there for them. I won't ever give up on
Due to circumstances out of my control we ended up in Oklahoma for 10 years. Those 10 years my dad was back and forth with deployment. In those 10 years, despite the town being its own little melting pot, it became painfully obvious that I was Mexican. There were other hispanics, but most that I found were from South America, either like me and second generation or like my parents first generation American. Not just that but I also felt like I was raised viewing my dad through a glass wall, or a computer screen. After 10 years of being in one place I was stripped of everything and of all comfort zones, we moved back to Texas following the retirement of my dad. We came to a small town and for two out of three years i've been bitter and hateful. I would do anything to get out of this forsaken town. However, now my last year here, I’ve stopped to really look around. I’m happier than I've been in a while, I’ve got better friends, met teacher who really cared for me and so much more. Despite lacking that undeniable feeling of utter belonging or home, I don't hate it here. I had to grow up so to speak and learn to appreciate what was infront of me.
My freshman year in high school through the haze of teen angst, school work, social pressures, and uncertainty, it hit me I want to be a teacher. I want to become a teacher, not for the luxury of a summer break or so I don't have to work in a cubicle, but so I can change kids lives. I want to be the teacher they will always remember, fondly i hope, and if no one else is there, I want to be there for them. I won't ever give up on