All my past experience hasn't influenced my life as much as my immigration to the United States. I often ask my father why he came to America. He always says the same thing: for a better education, more opportunities and for a safe place to live. My name is Nimra Rais. I am 16 years old, in my junior year of high school. I am from Pakistan and I've been living in the United States for three years. I came to the U.S in January, 2013 along with my mother and my younger sister. I was 13 years old when I came here.
I still remember the very first time I encountered the cold wind of New York City while leaving the plane. It was a dark day, and by dark day I mean, it was only 4PM and there was no sign of the sun. I already hated everything due to the flight. It was 21 hours, the longest flight I've had ever taken. The flight killed all my enthusiasm for being in America. I have always been told about America's living style and especially NYC's weather from my father and from my relatives.
When we first arrived in NYC, we went directly to my aunt's house, which is far from JFK airport. By the time I went to her house, the only things I could see at that time were streetlights on the road. I also remember that by the time I reached her home it was snowing and I only had a sweater on. The city I come from usually had hot weather and I have always liked winters. I used to go on a vacation during winter breaks in the northern part of the country where the climate is usually cold.
I came to the United States to live with my father. My father has been living in US for 17 years. My entire paternal family has lived here for more than 30 years. My father never wanted to live in the United States permanently like my other aunts and uncles. We used to live with my grandparents, uncle and aunts in a very huge house. My grandmother never wanted to leave Pakistan. My grandmother was also the reason why my father did not settle here with us earlier, and we all were happy living in Pakistan. Back then there was no such issue to make you leave your own country. One of the big issues now is terrorism.
The most confusing issue that I had to encounter was the weather. I never knew what to wear when I left the house. Here in the U.S. they use Fahrenheit and back in my country we used Celsius. The whole new dress code was also hard for me. Even though I didn't want to wear my cultural dress, eventually I had to wear it because of the weather.
There was a difficult period for us to adjust here. First in my father's house which was a three-bedroom apartment and we had one room for my family and two bedrooms for my uncles. In Pakistan I used to have my own room and even my younger sister had her own room. To adjust to life in such a small space really got to me. I remember once I got so frustrated putting our clothes away I was yelling, and my uncle came out from his room and said, "This is America, you have to adjust here to small spaces."
They always say to the new immigrants, "This is America, that's how you do it here." And this whole sentence angers me because you don't expect new people to know everything with a snap of the finger. I already knew English and it only took me a week to understand New York City's subway system. Even though I knew English, my father was already settled here, and I learned the food and transport system quickly, mentally it was really hard to transition into a different culture and a new life.
We mostly spent our time in my aunt's house. I would say my welcoming person was not one but two people: one was my father and the other one was my aunt. My father is known for being strict in our family and for having strong values, but he has never been strict towards my sister and me. My aunts always tell us about how they used to run away whenever my father came home because they all were so afraid of him. They always tell us that we have never seen this sweet side of him before. For example, my father already set up our (mine and my sister's) bedroom before we even arrived in the U.S. He is really caring and always does things before I even ask.
My father's sister is my other welcoming person. She helped us a lot to adjust in the U.S. She used to take us to the mall and even for walks to get us used to this American life. She also went house hunting with us. She is always the sweetest among my all of my aunts. She never gets mad at me even if I do something wrong. My aunt also helped my mom with household stuff. My father was responsible for providing the necessities and my aunt helped us with adjusting to life here.
I still can't answer the question if someone asks if I miss my country and why. I don't know what I miss when my entire family lives here and it's easy to contact friends and other relatives. But Pakistan is my own country where I don't need any visa or identification to live. As I grow older, I've come to realize the differences and I've learned to adjust to the circumstances.
I never thought in my mind how life was going to be in the U.S. when I was back in my country. The very last night we were busy packing and all my cousins were staying at our house. I remember when one of my cousin asked, "How do you feel?" and I just said, "Tired." All of my emotions got so mixed up that I couldn't react. When I was leaving the house, everyone was watching my cousin and me to see how we were going to react in that moment. They were expecting us to cry because we were and still are so close. They named us named "twins" when we were 6 years old and we still hold the title. I hugged my cousin/sister who is also my best friend and told her, "I will call you once I arrive." Everyone was shocked by my response, but as I mentioned I was all mixed up with feelings that I couldn't acknowledge properly to myself.
Education is just one area in which America has opened its doors. America is full of different kinds of people and nationalities. I feel as if I am not the only one from a different culture. Along with me, there are millions of other people who live in two worlds. That is the good thing about America. This country gives chances to people to find their spot in this world. I am just one out of a million. In America people can practice their traditions as individuals, rather than just one nationality practicing the same tradition.
Although there are so many differences in my two cultures, I never let myself mix them up. I leave my American culture outside my home and I leave my Pakistani culture inside my home. Sometimes I find it hard when I am stuck in the doorway.
I remember what my father once said at the dinner table. He said, "Yes, I grew up in Pakistan, and all my childhood memories are there. If something happens in Pakistan, it will upset me. But I am also living in America. America has also given me a home, so now I must worry about America too, as I live here." So, just as my father has accepted America, I also accepted my American way of life, but I will never forget my Pakistani customs.
In my school I study with people from all over the world, not only learning English, but simultaneously experiencing the beauty of other cultures. I have made connections with my teachers, which I would never have with my country's teachers. I also made new friends who are Hindus, Buddhist, and Christians; and in the area where I live there are temples, mosques, and churches. No country is perfect. But overall, I have been pleasantly surprised to see real examples of people living in a spirit of tolerance, harmony and acceptance in my new home.
It was Monday afternoon, when I noticed the girl in gym sitting in the bleachers without gym clothes for the second time and then it clicked my mind that she must be a new student in our school. I went to her and introduced myself and found out about her. Her name is Lamia. She is from Morocco, Africa. She enrolled in our school as a 10th grader. As we began talking, I saw that her English was pretty good and all she needed was some guidance about how our school system works. I first took Lamia into the gym office for gym clothes and then to the girls' locker room. Unfortunately there was not an empty locker so I shared my locker with Lamia. Lamia asked me to see her during lunch, if I had the same lunch as her. We met in the library on the next day. My first sentence was don't miss gym, if you don't have gym clothes you will get a zero and you can fail the class. I told her because of not going to gym I failed my first marking period in gym when I came into the school.
Lamia asked me several questions about our school about the schedule and how she could understand the way to the classrooms. I asked Lamia to take her schedule with me so I can give her examples how to follow the schedule. We went from the basement to the third floor for our tour. I also asked her where she lived, and surprisingly she lived in the same neighborhood as me. Once I got to know her address I told her that it's easier to go by bus than train and I explained her the way to the bus stop. Next day we went home together on our way to home I asked Lamia if she had gone to Manhattan yet and she answered, "not yet, my parents have no time but I really want to go." I made a plan with Lamia to go to Manhattan during the weekend but we actually couldn't go.
Lamia seemed curious and kind of confused when I met her on Thursday in our gym class. She told me that she couldn't understand her math lessons in the class and that's why she couldn't do the homework. I helped her with her math homework at lunch. I also let her know that there is math tutoring on Mondays in our school. She was relieved after knowing that. I said to Lamia that if she ever needed help in any subject she could come to me. Since we have gym together and we share a gym locker we talk a lot. I told Lamia what clubs she can join in our school. I took her to see Mr. Duarte to get the Pupil Path sign up information, so she can look up her grades.
I feel really accomplished whenever I see any new student I've helped now doing well in their classes, especially when they come to thank me. I always feel like I'm giving them what I missed during my first year in school.
I don't want any other newcomer to miss these opportunities. I have helped a lot of new students in my three years of school. I have encountered some situations where people I knew in the beginning don't even say hello to me sometimes, but that never breaks my enthusiasm for helping new students. The feeling you get from helping someone is way bigger than the minor pain of getting ignored by someone you helped before.
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