The classroom was noisy. All of my classmates were bustling around doing something. It’s always like this in the morning, before school starts. School starts at 8:10. Ms. Wendy always pulls the bell exactly on that time. Not a minute too early or late. That’s actually a lie because she once pulled it at 8:15.
“Alright, let’s settle down now. Sit down at your seats please,” the teacher, Mrs. Nakamura, called over our voices. It wasn’t hard to hear her, despite how loud we were. We were a very small class, a small school in general. Our grade barely had 20 students. We all went to our seats, sitting down quietly.
“We’re going to be making something for open house. It’s going to be all about you,” she exclaimed. She turned to the board and grabbed …show more content…
Nakamura called. Ryan, one of my classmates whose hand was raised.
“Do we need to write this is cursive?” He asked. In second grade, we learned how to write cursive and now everything we write has to be in cursive. Except for math. But it doesn’t hurt to ask the teachers if we need to. I personally like to write in print rather than in cursive.
“Of course you do. Everything you write needs to be in cursive except for math,” she responded. I mentally groaned. We have to do a lot of writing and it all has to be in cursive. My cursive was pretty nice if I do say so myself. Maybe my “s” is sort of bad because the loop part doesn’t touch it’s back but other than that, I pride myself on my cursive.
“Alright. Let’s start with the first one. Your name. So write down your full name,” Mrs. Nakamura instructed. I took my mechanical pencil and started writing : My name is Melanie Michiko Yang Shu Pascua. I finished that sentence. I put my pencil down onto the square wooden desk and waited patiently for the others to finish and for Mrs. Nakamura to give us new …show more content…
><><><><><><><> at school the next day ><><><><><><><>
“Alright, settle down kids. Let’s continue. We’ll just go around saying where we were born. If you didn’t know where yesterday, you should have asked yesterday,” she said. We went around the room saying where and which hospital we were born. I was dreading when it would come to my turn. I don’t know why but I didn’t want to say that I was adopted. It would just be something that made me different from all the other kids in the class.
Finally, the moment that I was dreading. It was my turn. I hesitated. Everyone looked at me, waiting for me to say where I was born. Mrs. Nakamura gave me an encouraging smile.
“I was adopted from China,” I finally released. I don’t know what I was waiting for. It was silent for a few seconds.
“What’s adopted?” Someone asked. Mrs. Nakamura explained it similarly to how my mom did.
The class just said, “Oh.” Nothing else happened. They just continued onto the next person. Nobody treated me differently. I was still the same person and I was treated the same. Knowing that I was adopted didn’t change their views of me. That’s when I realized that being adopted wasn’t much different from being birthed by your mom. We are all the same and it doesn’t matter where you are from because we are all the same. My family still loves me, whether I’m their actual child or
“Alright, let’s settle down now. Sit down at your seats please,” the teacher, Mrs. Nakamura, called over our voices. It wasn’t hard to hear her, despite how loud we were. We were a very small class, a small school in general. Our grade barely had 20 students. We all went to our seats, sitting down quietly.
“We’re going to be making something for open house. It’s going to be all about you,” she exclaimed. She turned to the board and grabbed …show more content…
Nakamura called. Ryan, one of my classmates whose hand was raised.
“Do we need to write this is cursive?” He asked. In second grade, we learned how to write cursive and now everything we write has to be in cursive. Except for math. But it doesn’t hurt to ask the teachers if we need to. I personally like to write in print rather than in cursive.
“Of course you do. Everything you write needs to be in cursive except for math,” she responded. I mentally groaned. We have to do a lot of writing and it all has to be in cursive. My cursive was pretty nice if I do say so myself. Maybe my “s” is sort of bad because the loop part doesn’t touch it’s back but other than that, I pride myself on my cursive.
“Alright. Let’s start with the first one. Your name. So write down your full name,” Mrs. Nakamura instructed. I took my mechanical pencil and started writing : My name is Melanie Michiko Yang Shu Pascua. I finished that sentence. I put my pencil down onto the square wooden desk and waited patiently for the others to finish and for Mrs. Nakamura to give us new …show more content…
><><><><><><><> at school the next day ><><><><><><><>
“Alright, settle down kids. Let’s continue. We’ll just go around saying where we were born. If you didn’t know where yesterday, you should have asked yesterday,” she said. We went around the room saying where and which hospital we were born. I was dreading when it would come to my turn. I don’t know why but I didn’t want to say that I was adopted. It would just be something that made me different from all the other kids in the class.
Finally, the moment that I was dreading. It was my turn. I hesitated. Everyone looked at me, waiting for me to say where I was born. Mrs. Nakamura gave me an encouraging smile.
“I was adopted from China,” I finally released. I don’t know what I was waiting for. It was silent for a few seconds.
“What’s adopted?” Someone asked. Mrs. Nakamura explained it similarly to how my mom did.
The class just said, “Oh.” Nothing else happened. They just continued onto the next person. Nobody treated me differently. I was still the same person and I was treated the same. Knowing that I was adopted didn’t change their views of me. That’s when I realized that being adopted wasn’t much different from being birthed by your mom. We are all the same and it doesn’t matter where you are from because we are all the same. My family still loves me, whether I’m their actual child or