I noticed that students of the same ethnicity would gravitate towards each other, and I was left alone. I would result in trying to hide my identity, trying to become more Americanized, burying my roots until they were not seen and that hurt me, after being so exposed and involved in my culture. Although I felt this way, I continued to perform. When was fourth grade, girls would come up to me after my performance, saying they want to be just like me when they are older, to not be scared in front of audience, to have confidence, and the discipline to learn these routines and lyrics. And that was when I started to teach younger girls traditional Vietnamese singing and dancing. The pressure of these girls depending on me to learn made me nervous, but I stepped up to the occasion, and ended up loving it. Then I came to a realization, when my students would come to me teary eyed, telling me they felt left out, being the only Vietnamese student in school. They were scared to share their culture, to people that did not connect, that were not the same. I became emotional knowing they felt lonely the way I did, and I told them that they should be proud of their rich and beautiful heritage. I taught these girls for many years, and in a way, they also taught me. They taught me the traits of a successful leader. This was my very first leadership role, and because of this stepping stone, I was able to take on the many other leadership roles I did in the future, such as being drum captain of my high school’s drum line for two years, cheer captain for my senior year, vice president of my high school’s Key Club, currently being on the executive board for Rutgers’ Vietnamese Student Association and my sorority’s dance troupe captain. Not only did they help me grow into the leader I am today, but they also taught me that I was not the only one, that I was not alone in conflict of trying to fit in, to become
I noticed that students of the same ethnicity would gravitate towards each other, and I was left alone. I would result in trying to hide my identity, trying to become more Americanized, burying my roots until they were not seen and that hurt me, after being so exposed and involved in my culture. Although I felt this way, I continued to perform. When was fourth grade, girls would come up to me after my performance, saying they want to be just like me when they are older, to not be scared in front of audience, to have confidence, and the discipline to learn these routines and lyrics. And that was when I started to teach younger girls traditional Vietnamese singing and dancing. The pressure of these girls depending on me to learn made me nervous, but I stepped up to the occasion, and ended up loving it. Then I came to a realization, when my students would come to me teary eyed, telling me they felt left out, being the only Vietnamese student in school. They were scared to share their culture, to people that did not connect, that were not the same. I became emotional knowing they felt lonely the way I did, and I told them that they should be proud of their rich and beautiful heritage. I taught these girls for many years, and in a way, they also taught me. They taught me the traits of a successful leader. This was my very first leadership role, and because of this stepping stone, I was able to take on the many other leadership roles I did in the future, such as being drum captain of my high school’s drum line for two years, cheer captain for my senior year, vice president of my high school’s Key Club, currently being on the executive board for Rutgers’ Vietnamese Student Association and my sorority’s dance troupe captain. Not only did they help me grow into the leader I am today, but they also taught me that I was not the only one, that I was not alone in conflict of trying to fit in, to become