English as a Second Language

Twenty years of life and my ability to understand Spanish and English has come a long way. My parents, both immigrants from Guatemala, only speak spanish. Being born in Boston, I was able to get taught in a bilingual class up until second grade when I chose to transfer over to a completely Enlish speaking class. Kids in my class were learning how to construct sentences and already learned the alphabet in their past classes. I on the other hand had to learn from the beginning. My alphabet consisted of different letters and different sounds and my teachers approach to teach me all these new sounds consisted of lyrics and beats. Singing along to R Kellys I Believe I Can Fly I was able to sound out the words and slowly get acustomed to the language I decided to dive into.

Third grade came and the language got so much more complicated. My parents didnt understand my work so when I would get home and lie about doing my homework. I would read picture books while everyone else were to busy reading into their chapters and spelling out words I had never heard before. Spelling t`ests would be dreadful and my mind would run blanks. Once I remember sounding the words out in Spanish so I would be able to spell them out and understand them. Without trying I got my first B without practice. Of course, due to my slow progression in my vocabulary I had to sit back in the same chair for another year.

English then became nothing but words that I never intended to use. Teachers would read my papers and congradulate me on my progression, but because I was having trouble putting the words together in my head I never felt as if I was getting better. I needed to let my thoughts out and would use poetry and its ability to become a flow of thoughts and ideas. My teachers thought it was amazing how structured my words were and how I was able to make connecitons with things my classmates wouldnt even think about. My pen was becoming stronger and my tongue became frozen.

After my junior year my words stopped flowing and my thoughts became silent. Maybe it was puberty or maybe even the change in school, but I havent written down my thoughts in almost three years, and my thoughts are dying to be written down, and my fingers want to create written art for anyone to see. When I speak my head spins and I studder harder than I ever have, my words become a tangled mess for even the smallest of conversations. Im trying to reconstruct what time has slowly started to eat away at, my words and my language. Spanish was my first language, but English has shown me how to be the person I am today.