Sac News and Review Essay Contest

5/15/2017 30 Comments

Sac News and Review Essay Contest

I was getting ice cream at Gunthers a couple of days ago, and while I was waiting, I picked up the Sac News and Review. The issue was the 2017 winners of SN&R's 2017 College Essay Contest. I read them. First, I thought these are good. Second, I thought my students could do this. As I read on, I found out that the winner won two thousand dollars, second place won a thousand dollars, and third won five hundred dollars. I was also surprised to see that the students looked like my students. In other words, the winners were diverse. I did some more research and found that the contest is a personal essay used to get into college. I was a little bummed to find out that only seniors can enter, so my nines and tens are out. But I have juniors as well. They could write a personal essay used to turn into colleges next year and enter this contest. Sounds like an awesome final, huh? Welcome to your final juniors! These will be your mentor texts. They will make great examples. For an explanation of the essay contest, click here.

Here are some of the prompts from the explanation:

"While questions vary from college to college, there are some common ones:
Who are you?
How did you become who you are today?
What are your key experiences, beliefs and interests?
Tell us about a failure. What did you learn from that experience?
Have your core beliefs ever been challenged? What happened?
And then, a wide variety of wacko questions, such as, “What do you expect to find over the rainbow?”
I thought it would be pretty hard to answer any of these questions.
But I thought of other questions that may not be of interest to the college admission officers, but should be of interest to anyone who is trying to figure out a life plan.
My questions include:
What do you do with your days?
Are your efforts making the world a better or a worse place?
What is actually important to you? Family, friends, status, wealth or …?
Should you change what you are doing?
If so, what stands in your way?
I am not 18. It has been 47 years since I stopped caring about college admissions officers. But I still care about these important questions. And the answers."

30 Comments

Zakari young

6/14/2017 10:00:07 am

Unique Black Dancer
By
Zakari young

We look at our reflections to create some kind of distinguished look, not just for ourselves but for the people by which we are surrounded by.Trying to be someone else ,
Trying to be like the others. NO!! I wanted to be much more than the average Luther burbank student. Growing up proving stereotypes wrong just happen to be a thing of mine. It's not something that I had planned to do , it’s just the way thing happen to be the people I happened to be around, the things I saw , the things that had influenced me to become I am , I was just a black kid trying to make himself out to be unique. A unique dancer.

I never wanted to fit in i always wanted to find my way around fitting in. people had always judged me because I never hung with my ethnic group, or i did not play the sports that black people play like basketball or football . They judged me because all my friends were those people with the so called yellow skin. According to them it was the
“Skin i did not fit in”. But i disagreed i didn't want to be like the average black kids so I chose my own route. So i hung out with the hmong kids. They accepted me for who I was , they didn't care what i looked like they accepted this brown skin kid for who he was.It was like my skin color was invisible to them.

You know after a while i discover threw hmoob kids a passion that soon came to me which was one of dance. . And funny stereotypical thing that people say is that all asians can dance I can tell you now that is not true. This yellow skinned people have given me an option to pursue my goal of being unique for everyone else, from every other black kid. But when people found out that i started dancing they all started with “oh what kind of black guy dances” and I just sit back and I just laughed and I told them that all they're doing is motivating me to be even more of what you see as different.

Dancing has brought me to see things different , to see people differently and even the world. It’s even brought to the point that if anyone tries to judge me about what I do , or about the things I don't do i'll show them why and how I became this way . How I was finally able to discover who I truly am , threw the people with the yellow skin, threw the amazing artistic dance. Or the motivation of everyone try to put me down or stereotype me. Possibly even threw my motivation to be different my motivation to be unique, the motivation of not trying to be black.

Going threw everything i've went thru with everything being said and done i learned a lot about myself and the people around me. Now i can go back to that mirror and clear up all the fogginess and be able you get the reflection of a black kid who figured out who he was. Looking in the mirror past all the fog, past all the cracks there he was just standing there. The face and body of a unique black dancer.

Joe Vang

6/15/2017 08:02:03 am

like they say don't judge a book by its cover. live your own story and live to tell the tale that you are Zakari Young

Jason Phoungphet

6/15/2017 08:52:34 am

Whoa, " I wanted to be much more than the average Luther burbank student. Growing up proving stereotypes wrong just happen to be a thing of mine.' Gave me chills, Im glad that your wanting to be your own kind of person. And Joe Vang is right, Tell a tale that only you could tell. I hope things go well for you.

Fracisco Mora

6/15/2017 09:10:24 am

Your essay was good I love how you talked about people judging you saying that you wanted to do your own thing your way because you wanted to be different.

Michelle Corona

6/15/2017 09:44:32 am

how did you overcome all the stereotypes ? I love your conclusion though ! I like how you ended it , it catches the readers attention.

Tou Thor

6/14/2017 06:51:02 pm

“ Kuv Txaus Siab Yog HMOOB”

I was never really satisfied for who i was: Hmong-American. I wanted to be someone who could reach for the stars. Someone who could achieve greatness and to have the ability to surpass the oppressions that were held against my limitations. Kuv niam tia kub txiv(Hmong) (my mom and dad) came to the U.S as refugees during the vietnam war, my father had believed in the American Dream, the land of freedom, opportunities pouring out education for the future generations, as my father would have wanted us to have it in our possession. My mother believed that money was the key to life, that only those of the superior jobs would be able to live a life of the American Dream. They knew nothing of the english language but a few words of “ Hello, my name is…” My mother had no english in her, my father spoke little spanish, french, vietnamese, and english just to get by what life had ahead of him. With just that they were able to make a living in the U.S. My father was the only one who worked before the morning sunrise til the very afternoon when his kids came home from school. I always remembered him coming home to us and asking us how our day was. My family consists of 12 siblings, 7 brothers and 5 sisters. I was the youngest of the 7 boys. My father was never able to provide us with the best clothings, or the best shoes, but i was thankful that he was able to provide a roof over our heads. My mother worked as a loving mother, she was always up at 6 A.M to clean the house and would find something to do around the house even if it wasn't necessary. I came home to watching my father arrive home from work and going straight to cleaning the backyard, while my mother was preparing food or either cleaning as always, i watched and i knew i had a big dream ahead of me. My father once said “ Use me and your mother as an example, go get your education and live the life of the American Dream.” My parents wanted us to live a life where we’d be happy.
The T.V had always televised many happy, loving families. But what stood out to me were that they weren't just any ordinary family, They were an American family. Being a Hmong-American wasn’t easy, you didn't have much to look forward to, your parents couldn't afford much for you but we would never say much because we knew that they had given their all into it, their actions showed it all. In my parents generation we never had any role models, or to say anyone to look up to that actually became successful, living the american dream.
The American Dream was everything that i had ever dreamed of. I wanted what everyone else wanted, i didn't have anyone to look up to, i couldn't find that inspiration that was the missing puzzle to my path to education. I grew up in a family of 12, i wanted to fit in just so i can feel like i was part of a family. I became someone who flowed with the big group of wave that went in any direction, not knowing where i would end up, i followed with my eyes behind my head. Growing up being Hmong-American, attending an all white school, i became the biggest bandwagon. I went with what was the biggest group and fell into a pile of depression. The thoughts of always fitting in had finally caught up. I was always blasted with all sorts of asian jokes, i believe it was suppose to be funny. I think.
The many assumptions and judgments that were tagged onto me made me lose hope of ever finding that American Dream i had once dreamt of, when it once felt like it was in the glimpse of my finger tips, everything had gone down hill and i was on my knees, carrying thousands of pounds of the reasons why i could never be one like them.
It wasn’t always like that though. My family we moved and so i moved schools, I am attending Luther Burbank High School with a brighter future ahead of myself, with a better perspective in life, the huge diversity made it feel like home. I felt like i belonged there. I became more aware of my surroundings and got out of my comfort zone. I became more confident in myself for being known as an Hmong-American and not how i was seen as. I’d like to call it that i reached my maturity point, not yet but almost, i have so much more to go and so much more to learn. I had grown up not seeing the bigger picture that the American Dream wasn’t always about having wealth, but to have the pursuit of Happiness in life. Everything that my parents had done for us were to give us the opportunities that many Americans had and my parents wanted us to have a piece of the pot of gold that lie at the end of the rainbow. My parents opened my eyes, to the world in a better perspective than anyone ever could have. So… my American Dream is to have a future career in the Law Enforcement doing what i love to do and making sure i can provide my parents a good loving home with many adventures that are to be done !

“ Kuv Txaus Siab Yog HMOOB.” -

Tou Thor

6/14/2017 06:53:32 pm

" I am proud to be HMONG "
“ Kuv Txaus Siab Yog HMOOB.” - Neng Thao 1999-2017

Joe Vang

6/15/2017 08:08:57 am

Tou Ger Xiong "hmong is i i is hmong" tou being hmong american our family is our pride joy our ancestor came here to long live prosper and be happy

Francisco Mora

6/15/2017 09:14:18 am

"my father had believed in the American Dream, the land of freedom, opportunities pouring out education for the future generations, as my father would have wanted us to have it in our possession." I love this sentence it says what every immigrant family thinks about the United States and how people make it seem.

Mong Yang

6/15/2017 09:44:01 am

Tou go live your American dream soon you will do it.

DerickIan Pare

6/15/2017 10:46:00 am

i really like it how you're proud of your culture good stuff

Joe Vang

6/15/2017 07:55:55 am

Joe Vang
Reflection of who

My mother came from asia to USA as an immigrant but not anymore she been a US citizen for a long time now and for my dad i don't really know much about him sadly to say but he still lives with me and my family also i don't even know how they met.
As the youngest child and the last one to graduate high school from a mother who has a old past life of an immigrant, a father that i don't know much about, and siblings that are different from one another. I don't know much about myself besides the basics like my age, my name, my ethnicity but in life wise not so much. I don't know what my dream job or even the collage that i want to go to but i guess it depends on how i grew up.
I was born in oak park but later on move to elk grove with a family in low income. I only knew my cousins and my siblings in elk grove but going to elementary wasn't much of a pain only the asian stereotypes like asian eats cats and dogs, the ching chong ling, and is jackie chan your uncle. The thing that gets me is whenever people come ask me ‘’what are you’’ i say ‘i'm hmong’’. They just stand there like ‘’what's that is that some part of chinese or something’’ then i usually get irritated because I thought people knew what hmong people was and they was trying to be funny but I was wrong. I remember those times when i do those test that you have to put in your last name first then first name, put in your ID number, and there was a part that i have to bubble in my ethnicity. I look for hmong and it's not there. I raise my hand to ask for help then they just say ‘’bubble in other asian’’ i felt very separated because i was hmong at the time. Later on in my life being hmong was more noticeable but more question came to me about my life , who i am, and what i want to be. Nothing never comes to my mind because i was always so carefree but i asked myself what is it to be hmong. I don't know to read hmong that good or even speak it. The history of hmong people is gone, rip to shreds, and my grandparents don't even know about it because they was too young at the time to even know what's happening. So i grew up knowing nothing about my hmong history but i know that i am hmong like tou ger xiong says ‘’hmong is I I is hmong’’.
So now I'm proud to come from a immigrant hmong mother and a father that i don't know much about and being the last son to graduate high school and fulfill my mother and father's dream to graduate college with a college degree and pursuit a happy life that my ancestors wanted.

Jason Phoungphet

6/15/2017 09:05:39 am

I love how yours, Tou's, and Zakari's are all so meaning full. I can see you put thought into your writing and you about what made who you are. "I'm proud to come from a immigrant hmong mother and a father that i don't know much about and being the last son to graduate high school and fulfill my mother and father's dream' Made me think about my family. and their dreams and goals...

Mong Yang

6/15/2017 09:56:51 am

I really like you are proud to come from a immigrant Hmong mother .

Jason Phoungphet

6/15/2017 08:48:26 am

When a door closes, a window opens, something like that

Our eyes are the lenses of a camera, for every time that we blink, an image is saved into a memory card. The imagery that we capture through the lenses can only be seen clearly by our own self and to others it might just look like a big blur. Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to delete old pictures to make new ones.
When I was 8 years old i remember having deep thoughts that i knew that wasn’t suppose to have, from “Why was I born?” and “What’s it like to be dead?” Now that I think about it, i was a messed up child back then. In kindergarten the 3 week of school i threw a big fuss at my teacher and she was really nice teacher. I will never forget Mrs..Ms..Mrs.Shelly? Anyways I remember that i had such a potty mouth and yes that's what they said back then. And if you get a 6 year old, a crabby morning, and a potty mouth, you're gonna have the worse day. I'm glad that Mrs.Shelly was able to deal with me.
I think that most funnest experience had was in Middle school. When 4 friends decide to skip school. After my childhood being the worst, i had a change of heart and became the nice and quiet type of person and to focus onto my work. That didn’t last long until i met Julian, Kyle, and Jonathan. To me, I saw it as an opportunity to get out and adventure and see something new. The plan was a go. Luckily we had the same 4th period class and after the lunch bell rang, we made a break for it. We walked at a fast pace making it to the back of the school where no one could see us. When the close was clear we jumped the fence and just started running, it didn’t matter the direction we ran. The destination they had told me where we were going was unclear, but i didn’t care it was already done, i already knew the consequences. I had no idea where we were going, but we went through a construction site by JohnStill middle school and i think they were making a plasa. And we 2 hours of free time. It wasn't till later they told me we where we were going. The place was called T4u, never heard of it and i’ll never see it, because after long walks on dried up dirt and rocky terrain. Our journey was stop by a free way…
The way passed it was to go under a bridge, but that area was flooded with water. Kyle decided that we should run threw the incoming traffic. This was the moment when my mind clicked. I ditched school, walked 3 miles, the belt is waiting at home. I knew that there was no way and we all decided, we’re going back. I knew that my mom gotten that phone call saying i ditched school and i thought if i made it back to the school while everyone was leaving, i could convince her i didn’t ditch. At this point it was a race against time. After of long running, i made it. Seeing my mom’s car parked right outside hoping she didn’t know. My heart was pounding, i couldn’t think straight. I got into the car pretending everything was fine, being as quiet as possible. The only thing going through my head was “Totally worth Jason, this is a story to be told, not a good one, but atleast you were able to live.” Nothing but silence throughout the car ride. “Maybe she didn’t get a call…” I kept my mouth shut the whole day. It was a experience i will never forget.
Today, i look back at many experiences and opportunities that i could’ve taken. I remember someone telling me that “When a door closes, a window opens, something like that..” That isn’t the right quote, but i understood what she meant overall. I was a trouble maker just looking for some fun and to live. I’m a senior now… I’ve learned how to take true grit, to get out of my comfort zone whenever i can. I try to plan things ahead but never go as planned. So, when a door ever closes, and when a window opens, jump out the window.

Francisco Mora

6/15/2017 09:03:14 am

Differnce between you and I

Our past makes us who we are.Before I started school my parents always taught me how to speak spanish and that the language I grew up knowing it was easy to understand.Once I started school and I began to learn english, it wasn't a hard change from spanish to english.Over the years I adapted to english and I use it more often than spanish.My parents both speak spanish and they use it as their primary language.Therefore, I learned how to use both of them wisely and knowing two languages has been a great privilege and also a good benefit.

When I was about 10 years old I began to work with my dad helping him in landscaping. My dad has always been working since I can remember he works everyday, even on his rest days he works. I remember when I was young my dad would work all the way down in San Francisco and he wouldn't be home until 8 p.m. I didn't really have a close bond with my dad the only time that I would spend time with him is when he would take us to work with him.” Ve a traerme una pala” that's what my dad would tell me when he would fix a sprinkler I would sit there and watch him as he tells me how to fix it, knowing that some people don’t understand what my dad saying and the fact that i respect him and do what he tells me to do means a lot to him and it also means a lot to me.

Sometimes coming to school would be one of the most difficult things when I was young. There was a lot of students that didn’t like me and they would try to bully me and it was hard because i didn’t have a lot of friends and I didn’t really speak english fluently because it wasn’t my primary language people would make fun of me, and I realize soon that the only people that would actually have my back were my brothers. My older brother would always tell me “si alguna vez me necesitas que solo sepas que estoy ahí para ti” when he told me that knowing I understanded him and that people made fun of me because of how i speak english I felt relief that he understanded me.

I always been the person that loves to give out and help out. When I see people in need I always give them what I have. Many people nowadays jude because of people appearance and many people are not what they seem like. “No juzgues un libro por su portada” that the quote that many people ignore. Some people treat each other like if they were aliens and because someone doesn't seem the same color as someone else people treat them different. This generation doesn't seem to know the difference between humans and aliens. If I speak spanish does that make me different from someone that doesn't and some people complain about how other people treat them but they don't realize that how they treat others, like the golden rule says “Tratar a los demás como le gustaría ser tratado.”

Bilingualism has made me see two perspective showing me some good things but also

some bad things. Being bilingual is a step ahead of other people it opens more door sometimes to many but i'm glad to be bilingual even though other people see me as a immigrant.

Michelle Corona

6/15/2017 09:55:04 am

how does being bilingual affect and help you ? in what ways ? I like how you added in quotes that have alot of meaning to your writing and made your writing much interesting.

DerickIan Pare

6/15/2017 10:48:19 am

yes i agree being bilingual does make you see two perspective and sometimes you have to make choices for one or the other, i really loved it i can relate

Adrianna Andrade

6/15/2017 09:23:12 am

“It’s a long story…”
There’s nothing like transferring to your 5th new school and get constantly asked “ Where are you from?” or “What’s your story?”. It's not that i’m ashamed or depressed about my past, the whole thing is just so complicated to tell in one sitting. Especially when i mention Foster Care, or the fact that i'm constantly dealing with CPS workers. Then it suddenly turns to some sad orphan fairy-tale. So that's why i decided to write it all down in this sheet of paper. Maybe it can shine some light on what kids like me, who’ve been taken from their families, go through. How it shapes us throughout time.
I had a pretty normal childhood, up until i was in the fourth grade. It was my first time going through an eviction. Three of my five siblings having to pack all of our belongings in a week, And leaving my friends without saying goodbye. I was a bit excited about going to a new home, and make new friends. I wasn't bullied at this new school, but i did feel left out at times, for i wasn't into most of the trends or the newest Justin Bieber songs like most the girls my age. I paid no mind to it. My art was my top priority anyway.
Once i reached middle school, that's when things started to change. My once, powerful, and independent mother had fallen under some kid who’s younger than my oldest brother. His name was Dustin. I’ll never forget his name. The man who tore our family apart without feeling any remorse for what he did. He brought drugs, and ‘gang’ members into our family home. A home with a new baby sister, who wasn't even wanted by either Dustin, or my own mother. Throughout time, i saw my mom turn into some wicked, immature, selfish brat. Following Dustins orders. When i got to the age where i started my cycles, i’d ask my mom for help, the only grown woman in the house at the time. Dustin would interfere by telling my mom to send me to my crowded room instead of having her help me with my feminine issues. I went to school embarrassed because my mother wouldn't teach me how to deal with my menstrual.
Barely starting my second year of middle school, it happened again. I came home to a large moving truck and boxes stacked around the front of my home. We had an eviction notice. Relieved that we wouldn't have to move far away, in fact, the apartments that we were moving to were only across the street. Once i got inside, i was confronted by Dustin. His eyes were bloodshot. He ranted on about how disobedient i was towards him, and how my mother agreed to send me away to some disciplinary school. At the time, i couldn't tell if he was just trying to scare me or not, so i made my first phone call. My oldest sister Monique. Less than an hour passed, with most of the house was already packed up, and Monique arrived furious.
Then it all happened. Faster than i remembered, Dustin had stolen the keys to the moving van, along with our moving money, then crashed my mother’s new silver car into the river. The police confiscated the keys to all our belongings. Without a house to sleep in, my sister stepped in and took myself along with my brothers and baby sister. It would be the last i'd see Dustin or my mom for years.
The four of us couldn't stay with her for long, but she tried her best to keep us happy and well in her one-bedroom apartment. Not to mention she had her own baby running around as well. After about a month, we were sent out to live up with a distant family friend. Her name was Kimberlie. The woman i was named after. This was the first time i’d seen her for years. Kimberlie, or what we called her “Kimmy” lived up in a big house in Pollock Pines, along with her husband, daughter, and grandson. They were a VERY religious bunch, which meant all of my The Walking Dead, and manga must go. Like before, it didn't really harm me much, as long as i had a pen and paper to draw on i was fine. The four of us lived with that family together for a few months. Just after Christmas, the family sent my two younger siblings back to Folsom to live with my mother. I stayed, alongside my older brother Miguel.
Kimmy’s daughter, Tabitha, or what we called her ”Tabba” and i grew very close. She became my mother figure for the time. She treated me differently. Allowing me to be myself, and didn't force me to wear a fake smile or drool over god. She supported my dreams on becoming a comic book artist, which was highly looked down upon at the church, and sometimes the two of us would watch some anime. After living there for nearly two years, she finally made the decision to get guardianship over me. I was more than happy to have a new mother, who actually wanted to see me succeed, and taught me all the things i needed for my life ahead. It was almost too good to be true. The happiness ended shortly. Tabba found herself a man. His name was Zac. i had no problem with h

Adrianna Andrade

6/15/2017 09:30:44 am

Tabba found herself a man. His name was Zac. i had no problem with him, he liked anime and zombies as much as i did at the time, so i was happy to have him around. Tabba was the one who changed. She didn't call me her daughter anymore, and wouldn't allow me to call her mom, especially around Zac. Pushed aside for another man, and now losing my second mother, i began to rebel. It wasn’t the smartest move, but i felt that i couldn’t stay quiet any longer. I cut my hair, wore pants, and tried makeup occasionally. Which were HUGE sins in the household. I didn’t have any friends at the time, or have and needs to go out, so my frequent groundings never really bothered me. My art skills increased the most during this time.
We were sent back down to my mother, after her promising that she’s doing much better and had a house ready for her children to come live with her. I wasn’t too excited. The “house” my mother got for us, was actually my grandpa’s. Which was crawling with drug addicts, and criminals. Luckily, i got to have my own room to hide in. i had missed half of my eighth grade because my mother wouldn’t step away from the syringes for more than two minutes. only after i walked up there myself and convinced them that my mother was too sick to register me. i finally got to start go to my new school for the last week until summer vacation that is…
I spent a month of my summer break with my sister Monique. Back at her apartment again, but this time it was out of my free will, and not a desperate decision. I gave her the story that you’ve already read up to. After hearing my side of this mess, she told me that she was going to get my mother to sign a form that makes her my guardian. After hearing this, i wasn’t very enthusiastic. At this point, i never noticed how mellotone, and somewhat melancholy i’d become. Probably because i paid more attention to my drawings, or creating stories for the characters i'd make. Later on that night, i returned to my home. My bike had been sold to pay for more drugs, my bed was rented out to strangers, who left large stains of bodily fluids i'm glad i never figured out where they came out of. That night, i slept on a air mattress, in a hot room with the window busted open, for anyone or anything to let itself in.
Morning came suddenly, as i was woken up to a police officer pulling me up by the arm, out of my bed roughly. He ordered me to go sit down in the living room with the rest of the people in the house. I was worried that my dog would have sprung into action, thinking this man was harming me, and would meet his fate. To my luck, he was already in the backyard, following another officer around curiously. Once i reached the living room as i was instructed, i saw a smaller amount of people than i thought. My mother was on the couch, holding my baby sister in tears, my grandpa who was in his chair handcuffed, my older brother Miguel who was lying on his stomach also handcuffed, and a couple whose “embrace” had been interrupted, are now sitting on the floor, the man handcuffed. The woman embarrassingly covering herself with a blanket, crying to herself. I sat on the couch with my sobbing mother, watching as the officers pulled certain people to the side to question them separately. Once it was my turn, i lied to the officer about how i felt at home. I'm not proud to admit to it now, but i thought it would have benefited my siblings, for i was the only one out of us three who they questioned. My idiotic plan didn't work, and i knew what this meant. Returning to the couch with my mother, i soon found myself in tears, after my mother, who i thought less of, held me for the first time in years. Our moment was ended abruptly when another officer took me, along with Miguel, and my baby sister Destiny away.
We sat in the back seat of the car, belonging to CPS. The kind women driving the van, bought the three of us some breakfast from mcdonalds. Even though we were starving from not eating well, none of us could take a bite. Destiny was crying because she was too young to be going through this, but Miguel and i have already been on this roller coaster well before. Miguel tried to distract himself by looking out the window, but the rain beating against the glass only added more to the sadness in this particular car ride. I sat in silence, as we arrived. We headed inside and waited at the waiting room until we got news. We stayed in the smaller, more isolated area of the large room. Destiny didn't even want to play with any of the toys scattered around the room.
Hours passed until one of the ladies lead us to the door, when we were greeted by a friendly face. Her name was ms.Karen. She was a bit older than we thought. Ms.Karen took us into her black van, and softly spoke to us, easing the tension between us. After taking us to buy some clothes and necessities, we arrived at her lovely house at

Adrianna Andrade

6/15/2017 09:32:33 am

Her name was ms.Karen. She was a bit older than we thought. Ms.Karen took us into her black van, and softly spoke to us, easing the tension between us. After taking us to buy some clothes and necessities, we arrived at her lovely house at night. She told us the basics and rules of the house, then showed us to our rooms. Destiny and i stayed in a room together, then Miguel in the room next over. I woke up early, refreshed from sleeping knowing that we’d all be safe. There was a smaller spare room with a tv in it that i welcomed myself into, for i was a bit too shy to head into the living room. I sat and enjoyed watching some simple cartoons, just to relax. Until i was suddenly interrupted by a boy, no older than 8 years old. He was very curious of who i was, and why i was watching My Little Pony. His name was Nazier, or what we called him “Naz”. He wasn't a foster kid like us, he was actually ms.Karen’s grandson. Together we went out to go watch the show on the larger screen in the livingroom, where i met Nalani, Naz’s older sister. We were a bit shy at first, but as the months rolled into years, we built a strong bond. We all became siblings to one another, and loved each other. Ms.Karen became the best mother figure i never asked for.
As another year with Ms.Karen soon was coming to an end, there came some bad news. Ms.Karen was retiring from being a foster parent. Miguel was already long gone since he turned eighteen, but she was left with two girls she’d grew attached to, and we felt the same. A few months passed and Ms.Karen was heartbroken, having to see Destiny leave to her new family who had adopted her. But, it was for the best. My sister, who my mother even admitted to was supposed to be aborted, was finally going to be with a better family. One with parents who will love her unconditionally. I was sad to see my baby sister leave, but happy to see her go. Ms.Karen took me out to eat for our last time, this time it was silent.
When october came, it was my turn to leave. I was sent to live with this woman named Regina, a woman in her early fifties and had adopted two babies as her own. She ran a small vender in the apartment complexes that we lived in at the time. I was supposed to live with Regina for only a few weeks before my sister Monique could have full custody of me. It wasn't going to be that simple though. There was never any food for me in the kitchen, only milk that was strictly for the toddler. She was obsessed with filling the air with disinfectant spray, to the point where i'd have to hide out in the bathroom all day. Regina spent most of the grocery money she received for making sure i was fed, on snacks for the vender, which was not to be touched at all, and new outfits for herself and her neighbor. Weeks turned into months, and i became weaker and weaker than i thought. I couldn't see it, because i've always been a twig, but many friends and teachers took notice. They all never failed on reminding me on “how pale i was”, or “how skinny i was becoming” each day. The only way i could eat something was when i was spending all my clothing allowance that the foster system would send every month, or spend the whole weekends at a friend’s house.
More “release” dates passed, but i was still with Regina. It was february now. I was supposed to be living with Monique in late october. This time, i was losing hope. I just wanted to go home to my sister, but it seemed that i'd never break free from this hell. My art was my only escape. But finally, i got a call from an excited Monique, ordering me to pack up my stuff and to be ready for when she arrived. I was ecstatic. After all these years, i'm finally going home. Home to my family. I never thought the day would come. We didn't take long to pack everything into my sister’s small car, and left without looking back. Before we exited the city, we paid ms.Karen a visit. We exchanged hugs, and told her how grateful i was for her taking care of me as long as she could. After our visit, i finally went home, here with my sister. Finally free.
I don't look back and grieve about all these events, it all shifted me to who i am now. Showing me that truly, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Hopefully someone who’s going through what i did will see this as some sort of inspiration to never stop fighting for who you truly are. Not to let people change who you are, or taking advantage of you. To let yourself learn from the past, and move on with your own life. My art is still on of my biggest priorities, and i hope to make stories based around these events. To put it together better than i could do with just words.

Mong Yang

6/15/2017 09:25:12 am

True Self

When I was 10 year old, I wake up in the morning not know that my sister got a phone call know my dad pass away. I just hate myself know he had died seen him with dead body I hate myself for that. I was out control when I was kid be bad when my dad was still live then he have died I control myself of the lost for that. After I went to school see my friend make me feel little happy not, think my lost of my dad. Something had lost inside of me to be afraid that is right or wrong for that answer.
It was summer break I stay at home but sneak out time to time to take my bike a ride in the neighbor that don’t know about just take journal where to go. My friend who she say hi to me I was afraid to say hi back so went back home, I see that my family have change after my dad have died a year ago. My sister go out lot and other sister listen loud music for some reason, she get angry most every time come home. My mom not coming home late. I stay in my bed every time when it was fight so I can have peace quit of my image nation and sleep just wonder what would if I died not my dad.
My first day middle school I notice most my friend was gone I walk alone sometime if born around lunch time but most I play card with one of my friend. I don’t really talk to other student in the class. I don’t really know them.Stay middle school two year was horror was like prison really want leave because of the rule of this school and teacher I don’t like. Finagling it was all over not going to that middle school so I thought it was just began after go to high school of my freshmen. It was not half bad better than middle school, better teacher too.
Look back go to high school of my freshmen year join club Burbank Urban Garden it was work it was fun meet new friend but most people didn’t do any that much so I didn’t join my sophomore year. When I junior year I join garden again it got better meet new friend hangout with them it was really it fun.
My freshmen year meet Mr.Johnson though like other teacher for my middle school but not like other teacher not make my head confuse too much. But join club Burbank Urban Garden it was fun meet new friend people didn’t any that much didn’t my sophomore year. When I junior year I join garden again it got lot better meet new friend hangout with then it was really it fun go on field trip learn new thing.

After my dad died and most my friend move to different middle school.I do want to lose my memory in the past. I feel like I’m alone but meet friend from high school keep move forward then stay in the past.

Michelle Corona

6/15/2017 09:41:07 am

Starting New

When I was 6 years old I started first grade at a school in Elk Grove. When I got there, I thought my mom was crazy for bringing me to a school where they did not talk any spanish. I was so confused and just stared blankly when someone talked to me in English. Of course I was little and thought that they were going to be talking my language. But I still wasn't adapted to the United States , I would still be thinking that I was in Mexico.

I stayed there until second grade. But not only trying to learn english was my only struggle, it's everything that came with trying to learn english.Something that I struggled with the most was the homework !!! I would get homework often and I wouldn't like getting it and not because I didn't like doing homework but because it was obviously also in english !!!! A language I didn't know very well still and that was difficult for me. Nobody in my family talked english and that's what made it even harder , and I would always ask myself how come they didn't speak spanish at my school or also teach it like how in Mexico.

Later on, I ended up moving schools to Bowling Green. The school was well it was unique for me because the school was split into two parts. There was a bilingual side where they teach in english and spanish at the same time and there was an all english side where they just teach english.Of course my mom and I both thought that the bilingual side for me was best, but unfortunately that side was full and there was a waiting list. Since my mom thought that I needed help in learning more english she just decided to leave me in the english side. Over here was different though, there was teachers who helped me and supported me and this is what led me to getting reclassified in fourth grade.

From then on, I spoke all english. I finally talked like my other classmates. Once I started high school I took a spanish class with a very strict and difficult teacher.She showed me how I did not talk my spanish very fluently or know about spanish like I thought I did. Now this year I have AP spanish and i'm proud to say that i'm bilingual and after all I was able to learn english.

shalneev

6/15/2017 09:42:46 am

Without Family

Imagine having to live with no family at all. It can be hard for a teen. Especially when you have to work, go to school, and have a place to live in with bills coming monthly. There are plenty more stressful things i have not listed. You would be riding solo in a world that is already hard enough and stressful enough for adults. Think about a teen that has to live alone with nobody to lean on for support. It would be very difficult for him or her. I appreciate my family a lot . They really are helpful to me.
I rely on my family heavily. Just like how plants need the sun and water i need my family. I remember my mom teaching me how to add and multiply. They help me out a lot with things i don’t know about. Another example is my sister helping me sign up for the SAT. I would be lost without my family. I don’t know what i would be doing without them. It helps that i have an older sister that has through all this already. I can ask her for advice about school anytime. I would be lost without my family. I don’t know what i would be doing without them. I would probably would be homeless on the streets begging for money. Hopefully that will never happen.
This is a cold world. If you’re alone you would be doomed in this cruel world. I don’t realize how blessed i am. Some people don’t have a family. They are struggling daily. Family is the most important thing to me. I appreciate the things they do for me a lot. My family is the most important thing in my life. Whenever i get a good job i am going to repay them double.

Julieanna Quidachay

6/15/2017 10:45:47 am

I feel you , family is everything in my eyes and always will be. It took me a while to understand that family is really all you got at the end of the day.

DerickIan Pare

6/15/2017 10:30:15 am

Self Respect

When most people ask you what is important to you, you usually say friends and family right? To me it's the same thing but i'm also important for myself, selfish, I know, but if you don’t find yourself important then you don’t have self respect for yourself. Self respect means pride and confidence in oneself; a feeling that one is behaving with honor and dignity. I mean caring for others and respecting others is great too but the first person you care, respect, even love is yourself. A piece of advice don’t care what people think of you or try so hard to fit in because you’ll only lose yourself and hurt yourself in the process, just be yourself and keep moving forward.

I was 9 when me and my mom first came to America, it was hard for me to adjust because I didn't know how to speak English and climate is way different than the one in the Philippines. My parents tried to look for a school that I can go to, and with the help of my auntie and uncle they found me a school and enrolled me. I started school on september 4th, it was different I didn't understand what they were saying and it felt lonely because I did not have any friends to talk to or hangout with. So I decide to self teach myself English by watching English shows and cartoons, surprisingly I was good in English, even the teacher said so, but I had an Filipino accent, a thick one. I tried making friends, but I was pushed away because I was the new kid and I had an accent, I was bullied, at this part of my life is where I learned where to grow and to keep moving forward.

Experiencing being made fun of, knowing that you can't make friends because of your accent, and base on the way you look, this discrimination was a painful feeling. I never thought I was gonna get bullied, I thought America was a good place but it's just a bad place where you get made fun of, is what I thought then, but I met a person who didn't care about how I talked or how I looked, he talked to me and asked if I was alright and his name was Omar. He told me that don't care what those kids are saying they're just jealous because I came from a different country, he's the one who told me to just be myself and don't care what people think of me, just move forward.

With this new skill and a deepening appreciation for myself, that a friend taught me which is known as self respect. After that event me and my friend Omar became best buddies and I learned from him not to care what others think of you and just to be myself. I used this all my life, I kept myself in check and make sure not to change anything about myself, and the only person who would know that I've changed is myself and no one else.

Now that I'm in highschool I still have self respect for myself, I might of made some mistakes and lost that but after some thinking and self motivations I got back up and just moved forward and learn from all of my mistakes. In high school all you have to worry about is yourself and school work nothing else. Another friend once told me that “you can’t love anyone, you have to love yourself first before loving anyone else, once you loved yourself, then you can love that one person equally as much as you loved yourself.” And he was right learn to love yourself and respect that and you can be happy in life and just enjoy it, because life's too short to be sad and care so much what others think.

In conclusion having self respect allows you to love yourself, respect yourself, and care for yourself, that's what's important to me, after having self respect then the cliche of having family and friends being important to you can be applied. I know it's selfish but it's good to be selfish sometimes because you're important more than anyone else. Yourself first, and second everyone else, like how our teachers wants us to have growth mindset, grit, it's the same.

Julieanna Quidachay

6/15/2017 10:56:36 am

Very good and inspiring essay about how having self love is most important because if you don't love yourself nobody will. And I also agree with you about putting yourself first cause people really don't care unless you're 6 feet under. so Derrick keep that mentality but learn to open up a little because everybody needs a shoulder when needed. Don't shut people out learn to let people in just to a certain extant.

Julieanna Quidachay

6/15/2017 10:41:17 am

Julieanna Quidachay
06/15/17
3rd Period

Who I Am Today;

My name is Julieanna. I am a 17 year old who has everyday struggles. Struggles with school, letting people in, keeping a stable and good mentality, but who doesn't have everyday struggles right? I was a young girl who always loved school, loved reading, loved smiling and having fun with people who were good friends or just made me happy. As time went by things started to change and i started shutting down. I was in 5th grade when my dad got a phone call about my uncle Marvin. Hearing my uncle committed suicide that night of September 24, 2008 really opened my eyes about things. I know just because you’re living doesn’t mean you’re going to love it all the time but my uncle should’ve never took his life. I had so much anger inside me and till this day I still do have anger. I miss my Uncle so much and he should’ve known what he was doing was selfish. He didn’t think about anybody on the way of “planning” his death, I know if you’re not happy with life there is so much more to do then to take your life.

As time went by I know my dad was hurting deep inside. He didn’t speak to nobody for a whole week, I know he was angry he didn’t understand why his brother took his life at 32 years old. He had so much to live up to and he threw it all away.. I remember seeing my dad in his room with his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands just sitting there crying but I never seen him so weak. My dad hated being seen “weak” in front of me and my siblings he was the “Man Of the House”. But I knew it hurt him in his stomach to know he was going to see his little brother in a coffin going 6 feet underground. I understood everything, losing my uncle made me realize that as much as you think people don’t care about you they really do.

I was 8 years old years old going to my first very meaningful funeral.. I’ve been to funerals before but never have I been to somebody's that I was really close to and meant so much to me. I remember that aching and heavy feeling I had in my chest that day, just thinking “How am I gonna get thru this funeral?” I remember seeing my uncle in that casket for the “viewing”, i’ve had to hold so much tears in, feeling my uncle’s face so cold and seeing his face so pale. What really broke me down was seeing my uncle go 6 feet underground and not for somebody killing him or by a car accident or any type of accident, but for him taking his own life just because he was unhappy that somebody he loved , left him for another person. It was so selfish of him but they say “ whatever happens was meant to be.”

What made me turn into a cold hearted but understanding young woman is losing my uncle and overcoming the pain that I had and understanding why he did but still knowing that what he did was wrong of him but it’s what he chose to do with himself and you can’t keep somebody alive or force them to live if they are not happy with their life. Every now and then I have flashbacks but I know I achieved the pain from the funeral and the pain I felt from losing somebody I loved so much.

Overcoming the pain I felt from losing my uncle at 8 years old shows me that I can overcome any type of pain in life that comes my way because I believe that losing somebody you love and knowing that you will never feel their touch or hear their voice again is the worst type of pain ever if ask me and that’s why today I am a cold hearted but understanding young woman and very humble with anything that gets thrown at me.

My name is Julieanna Quidachay and what made me who I am today at 17 years old is losing my uncle at 8 years old and overcoming everything I thought I wouldn't be able to.

Pa Hnia Vang

6/15/2017 11:49:32 am

Beauty of Makeup

When I was 8 years old, I remember seeing a beautiful Mai, the eldest sister of mine. Sometimes I see two people in herself. I wondered what she used that was able to transform her to such a beautiful, flawless woman. I finally figured that she used these things call “makeup” that I’ve always mistaken it for paintings. One day as I watching comedy movie in the livingroom, my 2nd eldest sister, Lia, came out of the room all glammed up. “Oh, look how beautiful she is” I thought to myself. So, I asked to get caked up as well. , “Mai, can you make me pretty like Lia? ” “Sure,” she replied. Mai, who thought she could fool me, drew a circle around my eyes. Looking like a monkey, I complained to my mom that Mai made me ugly.
Because I was still so young, I was afraid to glam myself up, knowing I am not an expert with makeup. In addition to that, I was also scared of touching these fancy and expensive looking makeup. Therefore, I started off by picking up a black pencil that had a label “black eyeliner” and colored my under waterline. After coloring my under waterline, I thought to myself that I looked fantastic , but as my sister, Mai, walked in the room, she started to laugh at me. Your eyeliner is so thick!“ Then I came to realize that I look like a person who was punched in the eyeballs. I, then, immediately erased my makeup. Since that day, I told myself that maybe one day when I grow older, I’ll come back to makeup and make myself beautiful.
I began to watch makeup tutorials and search up makeup tips for information. How to apply different eyeshadow, fill in your eyebrows, and draw a perfect eyeliner. Makeup artists made it seemed like applying a full face makeup is so easy, so I thought to myself that maybe if I give it a try again, my makeup will turn out fine.
When I reach middle, I started with the simple step, which is by drawing eyeliner. Makeup tutorials made it look easy, but trust me, it really isn’t! I miscount how many tries it took me throughout the year to be satisfied with my eyeliner on me. After completing my eyeliner goals, I realize that my eyebrows were too light, and maybe I can darken it up by applying black powder on them. Again, I thought I looked fine. Went to school with confidence, and there was people and friends staring and laughing at me because to them, I looked weird, so weird and funny. They made me felt hideous. Although I may felt ugly that one time, it did not stop me from practicing.
As my middle school years go by, I came to realize that I’ve improved. My eyebrows were brown, not black anymore. My eyeshadow was blended not too bad. My eyeliner wasn’t too thick anymore. No more people making fun of my makeup skills but compliments from here and there. I felt great and awesome and finally beautiful. However, I was not satisfied and wanted to improve more and be like Michelle Phan. Therefore, I continued with what I use to do,
watch makeup tutorials.
High school came along, and I’ve never really realize how much I’ve improved from middle school years until I look at before and after pictures of myself. My eyebrows were, you could say, crooked and uneven. However, it was filled in well. As for my eyeliner, one was shorter than the other. Lastly and I hate to say but my eyeshadow was not professionally blended. My makeup was hideous. But that doesn’t bother me anymore because that was the old me, and all that matter is just me in the future, not who I was. During my high school years, I learned how to be a perfection in makeup arts. How to blend eyeshadow like how professions would, and how to even out your eyeliner and eyebrows. I’m still in the process of learning to be a professional makeup artist. Elders and youngers tell me that I am a makeup expert and it makes me happy because it’s a goal of mine in life to be one.
In my past, all of the laughing and criticizing of my makeup skill hurted me, but if there wasn’t any criticizing then I probably won’t be who I am today. Afterall, I am grateful to all of the positives and negatives criticizes because they made who I am today. Good practice makes perfect! I love drawing on people and love the use of makeup.

Seng Vang

6/15/2017 03:48:03 pm

It Will Always Be In Me

As my mom and I walk alongside of the flea markets, she saw something that caught her eyes, a bunch of clothings with beads and coins sewn onto it. To me they were just some weird looking clothes, so I paid no attention to it. My mom stood there staring at it while I continue walking down the road. After a while, she caught up to me. “What were you looking at earlier?”, I asked her. “Oh, those were traditional Hmong clothings.”, my mom answered. I was surprised when I heard that because this means that I don’t even know my culture. My ethnicity is not even known to me.

I am Hmong. To others, we’re a minority group out of all of the other asian groups. Most of the time when I meet new people, they would ask about my race, and try to guess it, but the majority of them gets it wrong. The most common word that I hear when people try to guess my race was “Chinese”, probably because they think Chinese is the majority, but actually there are more Hmong than any other asian groups in the U.S. It was always like this “Are you Chinese?......Japanese?,.....Vietnamese?......Mien?, Lao?, Thai?......”, being unsure of themselves. Of all of the asian groups named, Hmong was not mentioned. I find it bothering beacause this shows me that our race is not even known to society.

Me and my mom kept talking about it as we continued down the road. She told me many more things about our ethnicity. Things like religion, culture, and most importantly, history. Everything she told me was really interesting. I couldn’t believe that I heard all of this just from my mom. I have learned that our ethnicity and background information is mostly stored in our parents’ minds, instead of being spreaded around the world through things like textbooks, on the internet, etc. This is probably the reason why everytime you flip through a history textbook, there’s nothing about Hmong to be found.

But there’s nothing to be ashamed of, I am proud to be myself, even if we’re not all that well-known to the world. I’ll never forget who I am.

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