"Papi," was my first word. It means "dad" or "daddy." Growing up in a Mexican household, Spanish was the first language I spoke. I was always accustomed to my family's ethnic background. I remember being a little, energetic girl, who was always enthused by everyone and everything. At school I had a couple of friends who had a Hispanic background. I also had friends that did not. I connected my culture with anything I could. It was until I began to struggle in school, learning the principles of proper English. Of course, I knew how to speak English, but I could not speak it fluently.

It began in first grade. The mellow feel of beginning first grade, on a bright and sunny day, gave me the hope that I will get through it like a flash, as it did in kindergarten. I went to a different school in kindergarten, but I had friends that came from my old kindergarten school. I walked into the enormous, elephant sized classroom. It was bright and colorful, like a double-rainbow in a gloomy sky. The grown people seemed pleasant and began greeting young ones, including myself, as they entered the class. I sat at the desk with the nametag that said my name and began my first day in first grade. I had seen people of all races, all cultures, and all beliefs. My classroom was like mixing pumpkin spice, nutmeg, and cinnamon; all different in taste, but together they taste better. My class made me felt as if we were a family. We all bonded together as little American kids despite our differences.

Soon after, I was told I needed "ELD" or English Language Development. This was so because I spoke more fluently in Spanish than in English. I had ELD from first to third grade.

Reading books and many of the activities that came along with it, really helped me improve my English. I enjoyed reading because it made me feel like I was in a different world. In many of the books I read, the protagonists were similar to me, facing many of the problems I faced, whether it would be at school or other issues, then developing solutions to deal with them. By the time I was in fifth grade, I learned to speak English as good as I spoke Spanish. I improved so much in both my reading and writing. My parents were proud of me, but there was one setback... my American dreams of being an educated and responsible student, resulted in me ignoring the customs of my culture.

In middle school, I was a student who believed that all hard work led to success. I started to apply that mentality to help me receive the grades I had worked very hard for. On sunny days where it was too hot, and even on days where it was pouring cats and dogs, I always concentrated on my work. I was following my American dream. I have always thought that if I can get through school, I can become the engineer I want to be, and I knew this would not be possible anywhere else.

I had a slump in my effort. There would be times when it was hard for me to do certain things that my mind could not comprehend. I was forgetting who I was. I was not interacting with my family or my culture because I was so caught up in school. I felt like I was the starting serve at a volleyball game. I was worried too much about making the first serve to start off the first play than realizing, there is still many more plays than this one to win the game. The way to win was to connect with my teammates in the remaining plays. The connection to my teammates is the connection to my culture. I began to realize the dream I have does not just come from education, but from the heart. My Hispanic descent was the key motivation to my dream. I took upon effort to remember who I was — a Hispanic American.

The days when birds are singing their beautiful harmonies, and the leaves dance off trees, are the days I take time to admire what opportunities I have as an American. I have the opportunities my parents did not get as children in Mexico. This generation defines American to be who you want to be, no matter the differences among others. To be American is to be unique and to embrace yourself. Whether you came here from somewhere else, or grew up with a different ethnic descent, like myself. To be American is to have pride and harmony for yourself and within the citizens of this country.

As I was told by my mother, "You can do whatever you want, just remember to be yourself and always be happy." With that being said, I look ahead now to find myself with only a couple steps left.