Thai Xiong
ENGL1A
February 14th, 2014
Personal Narrative Draft 3
Writing is not something that I would,
on a normal day, in a mentally stable state, find too undeniably as such of an
imaginary formidable enemy to which I feel I can’t face it. Relax. No, no that’s not how I really write, but in pseudo-interpretation
it just means that I’m confident enough in myself with my current writing
ability to not be afraid of writing. But writing never just came easy to me
running with open arms, as I’m sure other people can relate to with as well. I’ve
come to realize that my overall rhetoric changes with influence of my
surroundings, and who the people around me are. Coincidentally, I’ve moved
around quite a bit in the United States, from Wisconsin, to Minnesota, to
California. Thus, I’ve been influenced by many different people from many
different places with their own modality in speaking, writing, and even reading
as well.
Growing up in my hometown Wisconsin, I
was exposed to three languages at the same time as a sprouting child. English,
Hmong, and Gibberish. Okay maybe just two languages, three just sounded so much
better. But for the record, my siblings and parents always spoke baby-gibberish
to me as a baby and I picked up on the words. That taught my family and me a
great lesson. Don’t speak baby-gibberish to a child for too long; speak proper
English so that they can pick up on that, and not the baby- gibberish! As a
result I learned to talk fairly slow compared to the rest of my brothers and
sisters and I developed speech issues and obstacles. I had difficulty
pronouncing even the easiest of sounds, particularly the “s” and “th” sounds
for some reason. When school season came, life became say…less easy.
I was looked upon differently, when I
spoke, I was given a look of disgust, and not many other kids talked to me. I
felt so different, different from the rest, like I was the chosen one to do all
things known impossible to man, travel to the moon and harness– well as a 4th
grader I did actually think things like that, but I honestly felt more like an
outcast than anything. My brothers and sisters weren’t very supportive at the
time either; they mocked how I pronounced words and teased me. One memory in
particular I have in mind is
how I pronounced “French
fries” as “peng pie,” once again, having troubles with the “s” sounds. The sounds of
their mockery taunted me for days, months, years. I stubbornly told them to “Tut up!” Stuck
in my own inability to speak right, yet understanding everything they were saying, I was in endless
frustrated cycle.
I still remember her face, my speech
teacher. I had speech therapy sessions Monday through Friday. I would never
notice her standing by the doorway to our classroom with her hands crossed,
waiting for me if it wasn’t for my teacher obnoxiously announcing to the entire class, “Thai,
honey dear your speech counselor is here for you.” Each and every time I had to
get up and follow the
speech counselor to her office, I looked back, the class would still be in session and the
students would still be doing their own thing. And that made me feel so
different. I dragged my feet out of the class. After a year and a half or so
from 4th grade on, I finally stopped sulking from all the mockery
and started moving forward.
Of course I didn’t let these
difficulties sink me down the drain; it had given me a motive. To change the
way people look at me, to master my English reading, writing, and grammar, and
of course, my speech pronunciation. Before I knew it, my grades in English were
getting higher and higher. Soon enough my teacher even used my papers as
examples of good grammatical structure to other children. (And boy is that a
big deal when your nine years old!) My progress was travelling well, upward
bound, but then the divorce between my parents took place. My family split in
half, all of the sons—except me, my father took, and all of the daughters went with
my mother and me. We relocated in Minnesota, the Twin cities, where my literacy
skills took a plunge, for better or for worse I wouldn’t be too sure.
Like a scene from a crude comedy movie,
the atmosphere I lived in for the next three to four years was a ghetto block, in
poor living conditions, and there was always men trying to sell me the newest
“candy.” If there wasn’t a shooting at least once a week, then something was
definitely wrong. You could only guess how my new school was like. In respect
the school that took me in I won’t say names, but I was enrolled in what I
remember as one of the lowest rated schools in Minnesota at the time. The students there were so bad
that they had control of the teachers, and not the other way around. The
teachers I had were just too out of touch with the children and how to approach
them, it seems like they had given up. There in Minnesota, I picked up
on the ghetto slang talk, and my literacy skills never improved since Wisconsin—if anything, they’ve decayed a
bit. My classmates wrote very, very slang, and even read words in ways I
didn’t think existed. Slang words aren’t very professional I know, believe me,
but it’s still undeniably a huge part of who I am.
Sure enough, there are more ups and
downs to my literacy path, but the main idea here is the experience of different cultures, different
surroundings and how people interacted. In short I’ve gained a lot of
experience with the multi- modality of different areas, and how one has to work
around something. One particular language style isn’t going to necessarily cut
it. I believe that this is the mistake that some teachers make; they don’t
understand that some messages can’t be passed to a group through without a
certain modality. Some people understand things in different ways, and not
everyone interprets the same thing the same way. And this is the key, I believe, to my own
success. Back in Minnesota, while being exposed to a harsher environment, gangs, and poverty,
I looked to a peaceful outlet; I started write lyrics, both for singing and rapping.
Understanding different kinds of lifestyles, my writing more closely related to
the ideas of the community, and I grew a deep passion for music. As with writing, music elicits
different
interpretations
from different audiences, so my lyrics would have to have a certain format and
style, slang included. During last year of 2013, I had
conducted an interview with one of my old high school math teachers. He told me
that one of the most important things that employers will look for in a
potential candidate is their experience with the demographic and whether they
could adapt to it well.
I
have that experience in different modalities, as I’ve been close to many different
cultures. One option that I’ve considered career path in the future is to be an
academic adviser or even an influential speaker. I would teach differently or
work around difficult situations, rather than relying on the traditional methods to work.
The value of understanding one’s audience cannot be more empathized in these
kinds of jobs. The roles that I see reading and writing in my life will be
standardized in the form of very formal letters, to business, employers. I also definitely see
myself creating influential texts for the next and upcoming next generation of
students. On another note,
pun intended, music is another option for me as well. The experiences of
different modalities lead to much more open creativity in my lyric writing.
I’m not completely sure of
my major and career just yet, but with my experiences of different writing
atmospheres I hope to be able to successfully stay in touch with future generations
and relay true inspiration.
