Being the first one in my family to make it past the sixth grade, it was common to realize how many high standards I had given my family. I was born in Mexico just like my mother and father. I do not share any perks of being born in America like my siblings do. My father, who had dropped his education at an early age, still tells me that education is one of the highest achievements you can get when you are considered an “illegal” in a country founded by immigrants. I take his words to heart. I am not American, and I do not consider myself one. The media that is plastered on every screen tells me otherwise. I should think like an American, I should act like one. The media tells me I am a criminal and I should be taken back to my country.
