In a way, I thought this was a punishment from my parents. At the time, I’d been struggling with schoolwork and didn’t conform to the natural success of my peers. I was never able to find a source of standing in a learning setting since it was distant from what I was accustomed to.
It was finally my turn to take part in the program. Like my sister, who had been sent to stay with a welcoming family for the past two summers, I would now experience a similar summer. At nine, I was headed to upstate New York for a week and a half. Mingled with fear and anxiety as I prepared to leave my family for the first time, I awaited a family that was waiting for my arrival. In the suburban area of Caledonia, NY, I met a white family of four. One girl, just one year younger than me, Raekea, one boy, Attila, just one year older than me, and their parents, Lisa and Alex. A vibrant community that looked nothing like me.
However, I was a social kid, so regardless of how weird of a position I was in, I saw these guys as my new friends. I had known coming into this family that we were brought up differently. I mostly enjoyed my time on screen, whether that be on my 2DS or on my TV screen, watching whatever was on Cartoon Network. Their interests were pretty foreign, though, like ships or coin collections. I’d also noticed that their vocabulary was broader, and it shunned my voice while speaking to them.
During the first night, it clicked. I was sleeping in the same room as Attila, but in a waterbed below. I was positioned right above a book shelf full of novels, fiction books, and everything else. Right before going to sleep, Lisa had prepared a book for us to read together before bed, which was something I was not used to. I found it unique and comforting. Once Lisa had shut the door and said goodnight to everyone, Attila had gotten his headlight and took out Harry Potter from the bookshelf and continued reading before fully going to sleep around 30-40 minutes later. It was truly an eye-opener to see someone a little older than me set the bar for what a good educated child is, and it made me reflect on myself as a fifth grade student. I was more than encouraged to pick up a book during my time upstate. When I got older, it became increasingly apparent to me that we were raised in a completely different spectrum of society. There were multiple factors that would make these two differ so much, but one of the main ones I’d notice that was more prevalent than the others is how we were nurtured. Being raised by immigrant parents who built themselves off from nothing in this new country, they’d work day and night for a living and never got the time to learn English.
As New York City is one of the places where diversity is so widespread that speaking English isn’t a necessity, they would be able to pass more than 20 years knowing some terms. From my family upstate, I witnessed firsthand the privilege that comes with knowing English. In the way they were raised came a person who had a curious mind for books. I had wondered if I were raised this way my whole life, would I have that same curious mind too, or at the very least be literate enough to not struggle in school? Regardless of my upbringing, I had, over time, learned to expand my clarity better than I used to. I would never bear any resentment toward those who raised me, but it brought a new perspective on how being raised forms the blocks of a person.
