Language and Literacy Narrative
The concept that impacted me the most was the rhetorical situation because it made me think deeper into who I was writing for and what message I was trying to send. It helped me realize that even a personal story can be an argument. I was showing how people judge based on language and how that affects confidence.
First LLN draft.
Closed Doors
When I think of Sunday morning, I think back to a Sunday when it all changed for me. That Sunday morning was supposed to be great. I was on a new flight to the land of promises, where my life was supposed to change for the better. At first, it felt exciting to have my little carry on and my Barbie tucked under my arm, and the idea that somebody was waiting for me. But in reality, the airport felt huge and empty, and I was all alone. The flight attendant did her job, but I could feel how forced it was. Like she was just checking off a box. People threw comments my way like “ Ella cree que ella es grande” ( she thinks she’s grown) or “ Tu eres una mierda”( you are a little piece of shit) as if being a kid in my situation meant I deserved their judgment. At the end, it was just me and my Barbie, and my mom was nowhere to be seen. Did she really care about me? How could she send her kid on a plane with a stranger? Where did all of this trust come from? These were the questions that were running through my mind as I was sitting alone, just me and my Barbie in the air, all I could think of was where my mom was right now? Were we in the same place, or was she ahead of me? Oh, how I couldn’t wait to see her. The plane buzzed with families, laughter, and the comfort of togetherness. Meanwhile, I sat there gripping my Barbie even tighter, feeling small and out of place, lost in the crowd, waiting patiently for my only family to appear.
And then in a blink of an eye, I was there in the United States.
Lonelier than ever, everyone in flocks finding their families, and then there was me. The lonely duck on a mission to find her mother. The flight attendant looked tired of me, and her eyes said it all, but she just kept doing her job, telling me “Call your mom ,honey, to see if she can pick you up at gate 6.” Did my mom forget about me? When did I get here? My heart was pounding so hard it felt like I was about to fall out of me. As I dialed her number, all I could think of was “ay mami cojelo que me querio ir por pavor”,(mom please pick up the phone I wanna leave.) but instead of her voice I got the cold beep “ Leave a message after the tone”. I could feel the tension in the room. They had to go home and clock out. But I was robbing them of that happiness, and their faces said it all. Even though they would cover it with a “its ok honey im not gonna leave you alone”. But I already felt alone. I tried to cooperate to the best of my ability, but English was just not in my forte. Every time the sliding door opened, I scanned the face like a machine searching for my mom. The fear inside of me kept asking if maybe she had really forgotten about me. This was really my new reality. I was gonna stay here all forgotten, all alone in a place that didn’t feel like mine. Minutes passed like hours. Just when I had lost all hope and started to think that this was my new reality, a lost girl in New York. I saw her. My mom. Her eyes found me, and everything I had been holding in fear, anger, and confusion spilled out in tears.
My eyes started to pour like a fountain, and I couldn’t control it. I was so confused and lost, and all I wanted was my mom. No amount of ‘it’s ok, honey” could get me to stop crying. I was devastated that the little duckling did not find her mother after all. But then “WHAM,” there she was, opening the door like there was a robbery going on. “Y mi hija!,”(where is my daughter!) she screamed on the top of her lungs. She looked like she was hit by a hurricane, but I didn’t bother to ask all I said at the moment was “MAMI”. And ran into her arms. She received me like she didn’t leave me behind. She was acting all normal. Like, I didn’t just have to figure this out for more than 24 hours. Even though I ran into her arms as she held me tightly, part of me still held on to the memory of that emptiness I felt that day.
Moving to the “United” was something my mom always dreamed of. The untied” the state where all dreams come true. For her it meant opportunities, better schools, and even a chance for me to do what she never got to do. Everyone told me it would be amazing. “Muy feliz mucha cosa buena para ti”(very happy and very good thing for you coming your way) My abuelas and tias said as if I was being handed a golden ticket. But inside I didn’t feel excited, I was terrified and I had every reason to be because this great experience turned into a nightmare in a blink of an eye. She said it was supposed to be a good thing or at least that’s what mom made it seem like. But it was one of the worst experiences for me as a kid growing up. We were in the United States in the land of promises. But in reality there are just a bunch of lies and empty promises.
“Levántate y date rápido antes que no coja tarde.”(wake up and hurry up before we are late.) I woke up in a puddle of saliva next to me. Feeling like some had casted a spell on me. I woke up and my mouth felt so dry like I was chewing on dry desert. “Ya voy mami”( Im coming mom) I mumbled as the sun beamed through my window. I felt like a vampire caught in the light like I was getting exposed. Leaving the house my stomach tightened so much it felt like knives twisting inside of me. It was horrible. I pulled the door shut and heard the sharp click of the door. That sound made everything feel final. My backpack straps cut into my shoulders as I walked to the car where each step I took felt heavier than the last.The air outside felt different, sharper and colder as if it knew I was leaving something behind. “Ya estamos listas”( we are ready) my mom says to the chauffeur as if she won but the happiness in her voice made my skin crawl and it made me sick.
When we first walked into the catholic school the smell hit me first, polished floors, lemon cleaner and something sweet like paper mixed with prayer. The floors were so shiny I could see my own reflection in them. My small face looking back at me like it already knew this day would stick forever. Small and nervous, my hands locked around Mami’s arm. Kids in plaid uniforms rushed past us laughing and shoving each other, their voices bouncing off the tall white walls like echoes in a church. They looked so sure of what they were going. I didn’t even know where to stand. The hallways were lined with pictures of saints and gold crosses that glimmered under the fluorescent lights. My stomach felt tight like I had swallowed a rock.
Mami’s perfume smelled like her cafe con leche and the perfume she only wore on Sundays to church and her job interviews. Her red lipstick was a little smudged at the corner her curls framed her face just right. They were tamed. She looked “professional.” That’s when you knew she meant business. It was the only thing keeping me calm. She smiled at me and whispered “ Tranqila mi amor” (calm down my love.) But I could feel her pulse racing through her hand. She tried to stand tall. She always looked brave like she was about to win something but she knew she was shitting her pants by the way she kept whispering “hay dios mio”(oh my god) under her breath like if the lord was going to magically pop up and save her.
We made it to the front desk where a woman sat behind thick divider glass. She looked up at us once and got back to clacking her nails on the keyboard like she was too busy for us. Her smile disappeared before it could even start. Her hair neat, her blouse perfectly tucked. Her voice came out with quick and sharp English words rolling so fast they tangled together. It didn’t sound like words to me, it sounded like far mumbling of a tv show without subtitles gibberish. Mami tried her best nodding, smiling, mixing words she half knew. “Hello, I Mi daughter school, si.” she said softly The lady blinked unimpressed. A group of students passed by whispering and giggling their eyes flickering toward us like we were something strange they couldn’t quite name. Like we didn’t belong. And then it happened. “No hablas Englis, ¡No ayuda!”
Her voice was so loud it cracked through the hallway. The laughter stopped. Even the students turned to look. My chest froze and my tongue felt like it didn’t belong in my mouth outta place, I wanted to disappear to melt into the perfect shiny floors. I tried to speak my words, shaking. “Miss please, my mom says she wants to put me here because the school is good if she pay we pay. Please, I wanna learn.” But the words came out heavily broken and wrong. The woman didn’t move. She just looked through me like I wasn’t really there. The air in the room turned thick and cold. My throat burned and before I knew it blurred tears everything. The shiny halls, the saints on the walls, the uniform, it all faded. In that moment I realized something deep. I wasn’t just in the wrong place, I was in the wrong language.
But I also realized something bigger. It wasn’t just me it was the language barrier and the way the world judges people who don’t speak English first. They don’t hesitate when it comes to people who don’t speak English and it’s not fair . Kids like me whose parents risked everything for them for a better life sometimes get shut out before they even get a chance all because of a language barrier. America is all about being equal but it didn’t really feel like that. Schools talk about opportunity but how can it be an opportunity if the door is closed before you can even try and open it. I tend to think about that moment a lot. To when those words stinged and the way my voice shook when I begged to be seen. That says something to me. That feeling of not belonging did not define who I was. It just pushed me to fight even harder to prove that my word, my story and my voice matters even if I had to adjust and learn how to say them in a different language.
My last LLN draft:
The primary changes I made to my LLN after receiving feedback during my 1 on 1 meeting was making my moment stand out. Also making my ending more meaningful because it did not fit with the flow of my story.
Closed Doors
“Levántate rápido antes que te coja tarde!”(1). My mom called from the kitchen “get up before we’re late!” Morning Light spilled through the curtains harsh and exposing. The air felt heavy, the floor cold beneath my feet. From down the hall drifted the smell of cafe con leche and bleach sweetness and struggle mixed together. I moved slowly, still half dreaming of the world I left behind. Today was my first day at a new school in America. My stomach turned with every sound. The scrape of my chair, the clink of my spoon in the bowl. My mom’s voice filled the silence with gentle worry asking if I had my notebook if I packed my pencils if I was ready. I nodded though I wasn’t.
The ride there was quiet for the hum of the car. Buildings passed by like strangers I couldn’t understand. My mom tried to keep a hopeful tone. “Todo va a estar bien.”(2) she said. I stared out the window pretending I believed her. When we finally pulled up to the school the parking lot buzzed with kids laughing calling out to friends. I froze, gripping the strap of my backpack. The air felt colder than before. My mom smiled nervously while we walked toward the glass doors together. Inside the hallways smelled like cleaning spray and paper with prayer. Fluorescent lights flickered above and voices echoed down the corridor. We reached the front office where a woman with bright red nails looked up from her desk. “Can I help you?” she asked, her smile tight. My mom answered softly with her broken English but brave “Hi my daughter… first day. The woman blinked “I’m sorry what?” My mom tried again slower this time her accent heavier. “My daughter’s first day new student.” The woman’s smile disappeared. She singed and glanced toward another worker before calling out “does anyone speak Spanish?” No one answered. My mom’s face flushed red. She looked at me helplessly.
I wanted to speak to explain but the words in my mouth tangled like wires. I knew that my mom was saying and I knew what the lady wanted but I did not know how to build a bridge between them. Finally the women said louder than before “ ENGLISH ONLY PLEASE!” her voice echoed in my ears. My moms hand tightened around mine and she whispered almost to herself “No ayuda …. No entienden.”(3) Something in me cracked. For the first time I realized that our language, the one that filled our kitchen, our prayers and our laughter did not fit here. It felt small in this bright cold room. A few minutes later another staff member finally appeared and handed us a paper with my schedule. The red nailed woman avoided eye contact by busying herself with the computer. My mom thanked her anyway, her voice shaking but polite. We walked out into the halfway again silent.
As we stepped outside the sunlight burned against my eyes. My mom sighed “tienes que aprender ingles rapido mija”(4) I nodded but deep down I felt something more complicated than agreement. It was not just about learning English It was about not losing the voice that had carried me here. That night I laid in bed replaying the moment over and over the word English kept curling in my mind like a command. But underneath it I also heard the rhythm of my mothers Spanish, strong and alive.
From that day on I decided that learning English would not mean letting go of who I was. I started watching TV shows with subtitles practicing pronunciation in front of the mirror reading out loud until my accent softened. But at home I still spoke Spanish proudly. The next time we went to the office my mom nudged me forward. My heart pounded but I spoke clearly. “Hi, I’m here for my schedule.” The woman looked surprised but nodded and handed it over without hesitation. Walking out my mom smiled. “Muy bien mija.”(5) Her pride made something inside of me settle, a quiet understanding that language wasn’t a wall. It was a bridge I was still building one word at a time.
Footnotes
(1)“Levántate rápido antes que te coja tarde!” – Get up before we’re late!
(2)”Todo va a estar bien.” – Everything will be okay.
(3)“No ayuda …. No entienden.”- They dont help… They don’t understand.
(4)“Tienes que aprender Ingles rapido mija”- You have to learn English fast my girl.
(5)“Muy bien mija”- very good my girl.
