Spanish In High School example essay topic

Literary history for me has been extremely assorted in terms of my receiving of knowledge. I have been fortunate to have come in contact with many diverse people and experiences that shaped my literacy into what it is today. I am lucky to be literate in more than the basic reading and writing skills, but also native language, illustration, vernacular speech, digital electronics, and musical performance / composition. My native language has been something of interest to me. It has been influenced by several different factors. As far as location I was born and raised in west Texas in the city of Midland.

It is heavily influenced by the Mexican Culture being as it is approximately two hours from the Mexico border and thirty minutes from the New Mexico border. The city displays its Mexican influence with great clarity. Real Mexican restaurants where the tortillas are made fresh on a corn bowl by an elder Mexican lady, the pledge of allegiance is said in both English and Spanish at most schools in the area. And one of the biggest displays appearing would be the minority Mexican population being not so minority. The Mexican culture had a dramatic impact on my life that was not what I would call such a positive one. Both my parents spoke Spanish very fluently as they did English, and still to my amazement both at the same time.

Although Spanish was spoken constantly around my family, immediate and extended, I was surprisingly not heavily influenced by it. Unlike countless other households I was not taught the ways of the Spanish language. I picked up on words and phrases here and there but never really caught on. It was not such a big deal to me at the time but I would soon learn to regret and yearn for it. School would be the regretting situation for me. Thanks to the neighborhood I presided in I was able to stay at my local school and not be busse d around to "other" schools.

By other I mean the schools where ninety-five percent of the minority students where "placed". My cruel experiences as being Hispanic and only speaking English were not really present until later years in school. During these school years I was shunned upon by many for not knowing the Spanish language, I was called several name such as "coconut", being brown on the outside and white on the inside. Among other things I was laughed at by many adults.

Elder Spanish speaking people would come to me speaking Spanish, expecting me to know what they were talking about just because I had black hair and dark skin. And after discovering I had know earthly idea what they were talking about they would laugh or shake their heads as if its my fault that I don't know Spanish. Acting as if it is some mortal sin that I can not understand what they are talking about. I say this is America and I should not be forced to learn a language I could survive without. I learned English, I do not go to Mexico and speak English and demand them to understand what I am saying; why should I have to do that here to please them.

To this day I have only taken Spanish in high school to attempt to build a bridge between these two worlds of mine. I have done a fair job of learning more and understanding Spanish to a better degree, but this still does not please them. I am still huffed at or looked down upon when I do not understand a Spanish speaker who talks one hundred miles and hour. I say go back to Mexico or learn some English while you " re here. From the beginning I have been a visual learner.

If I had to learn something I drew a picture or made a model. I have always when better at things I can do with my hands. My mind recognizes things a lot better when the details are drawn out. I can remember growing up I was never read to particularly much or any at all for that matter. My parents we not fully educated as far as college goes. My father finished high school but went the army after that.

And this was the times when the army didn't pay for your college. In fact they pretty much made these boys go to war. My mother received her degree in accounting by way of correspondence through a local college. Being that there views were not to any extent set on fantasy and dreams I was not read on the basis that I it would put dreams in my head that would never come true; setting me up for failure in life. Their teachings were on going to school and getting a good job to support myself. In desperate response to this I was not so much as forced but directed to figure out questions on my own.

My young eager mind was left with plenty of time to explore and ask questions. From magazines to photographs to ads on cereal boxes and works on TV I remember the pictures and the colors, in all shapes and sizes. And to go with those pictures of mine came questions to the ninth degree. There were always questions to go with my pictures. To my parents it soon became natural to tell me answers before I asked the questions. I soon found out that asking questions was not always the most intelligent choice to formulate.

It rapidly became visible to me that the culture I was being raised in was not one to take a liking to individualist. My city was a Republican one, being it is the home of our president. But there was a darker side a side that most would not distinguish just looking from the outside. WASPs.

White Anglo Saxon Protestants, generally male and mostly elderly, ruled the city of Midland with an iron fist. Religion was heavily enforced not such much for peace and prosperity but for money and prestige. Without the above working for you the city was a tough place to live, especially for a nonconformist like myself. I can remember the schools most obviously with their ideas of We " re right and you " re wrong, We " re big and you " re little. As you can imagine a person like myself so full of questions and curiosities I did not fit in sound with their "agenda". So many classes so many things to explore.

What do I choose? Choices are made that most indefinitely affected the way you perceive life. I know I did. No the answer is zero! And that's final! But Mrs. Knuitall, How can that be?

Because I said SO! The worst phrase one can say or receive as an answer. We all remember the teachers who lectured and lectured that all their answers were right because they said so. And yet there were always those teachers that stood out. The one that was voted most favorite so many times they were taken off the ballot; that teacher that's name will forever be engraved in your memory. This one unlocked the doors of perception for you to walk through.

A Christian existentialist, whose only goal in life was to watch his students surpass life's mediocrity and fulfill their life's ambitions. My eyes which I inferred had been unfastened to the world around me were blown wide open to an even bigger prospective on what was really going on. The community did not support this for it caused much unrest between the conformist and myself. Questions were not in the veins of this retiring giant of a city. We have all had battles that come in contact with our personalities and beliefs no matter the background we come from. Weather it be with others around us or with in ourselves.

The people we meet and the way we live want you to not ask questions but to go along with what's given to you. Well I say the answer cannot be zero because zero is not a number it's merely a placeholder. How can a placeholder be an answer to a question that requires a numerical answer? The answer is not because you said so! Music to most is just a form of entertainment to get you from point a to point b.

To me music is a form of life a form of literacy. One says music cannot be seen it is merely the sounds I here from my headphones. How closed off those people are. Music is a form of life; it is a form of expression that separates us from everything else on the planet. We are the only living organism that can consciously make and understand music in its complexity. Since I was a little boy music was I can remember making music in all its form and fashions.

Banging the pots and pans together as mom washed the dishes; smelling the fresh smell of orange lemon dish washing detergent and fantasizing myself in a little place harmony. Which of course was shot down by an older sibling coming in and making music with a swift blow to the top of the head because they were on an "important" phone call. The influence of my surroundings on music was not affected until my later years in high school. The school of my earlier years turned out not to be the best of schools. The walls were falling apart. The staff was under paid in turn affecting their output to their students.

Academics were not at the top of the list for this school. I soon learned that football was all the public cared about music to them was a few thousand dollars that could have been spent on the buying the football team new uniforms. Which was somewhat agreed upon by myself being that the band had never really done much of anything. Half time at a game was nothing more than just time to use the restroom. People had no idea the time and dedication it took to put on a show for them.

The unending hours of after school practice in the unbearable heat we some of the sacrifices we made to put on a show for them; the society that would rather sell out equipment for new helmets. Why did we do it? Why did we have the heart and will to go on and play our hearts out to a crowd that wasn't even there. Persistence is the reason we did what we did. The public soon began to come around to their senses.

Our shows began to fly like the wind. More and more people began to see what we were doing was not just effects to keep the field warm during half time. Soon the fans could not wait to see what was in store for them at half time. We were a part of the community now.

As our pride was built up so were our skills. As a more developed musician I began to understand the ways of music. I began to feel the emotion and feeling run through my body as I put time and effort into.