Alessandro Bologna English 1103 Bert Wray 24 September, 2013 Literacy Rough Draft

It all started one night when my dad was driving me to my soccer practice. While driving he received a call and answered it, he listened to the person talking for about 10 minutes, halfway through the call he face turn white as a sheet. He seemed really shocked. The call ended and I asked who was it? He replied I just got offered a job in America!. My dad was an Electrical Engineer working at a power utility company called Eskom, which in Charlotte, is equivalent to Duke Energy. I found myself in a crisis, I started asking myself questions like: Will we actually go? What happens if we go? Where in America are we going to live? I sat quietly for the rest of the car ride just thinking. I was afraid to lose all my friends, and what would the United States be like? That night I bothered my dad with question after question. Now that Im older, I understand that he was going through the same emotions I was. My parents discussed it, and about a week later they told my sister and I that they were going to Charlotte, north Carolina to see what the job offer entailed, and if my dad was to take the job, they would have to find a house for us to stay in and a school for my sister and I to attend. They left my sister and me in the care of my grandmother for a week. They returned with the news that my dad accepted the

job, and that they found us a house in a nice neighborhood. My dad was going to work for the company Electrical Power Research Institute, EPRI for short. They specified in research and development of new technologies in the broader electrical field. My dad got the job as the project manager of the High Voltage Power and Insulator division. I didnt know how to handle this situation emotionally; I was afraid, excited and just confused on how to feel about it. When my friends and family found out, they were happy for us but sad that we were going so far away. It was a very emotional week for my family. This move really put my life in South Africa into perspective for me. I would leave everything behind, friends, family, culture, food, and at the time miss playing our last cricket game before being crowned champions. I was tremendously upset. My last game, all my friends gave me a cricket ball signed with all their names, and to this day I still have it. I will never forget all the good memories I have and all the good friend I left behind. About two weeks later, November 30th, we had packed up all our belongings, shipped them, and were heading to the airport. This was the moment when everything really hit me. The fact that we were actually moving to another country and leaving all my friends and family behind. The flight from Johannesburg, South Africa to New York, New York took about nineteen hours. I dont think Ive ever been so bored, I couldnt sleep because all I could think about was leaving my old life behind and starting anew. I wondered how America would be, were the people different to me? Would the kids at school like me? I bombarded myself with so many questions about the unknown.

Nineteen hours later we landed, we went through immigration and headed to the gate where we had to catch our connecting flight to Charlotte. Everything around me was so different, the ads, people and sounds. Everywhere around me, there was that American twang that I only heard in movies. One of the things that stuck out the most, was how friendly everyone was and the excellent customer service. Eventually it was time to board our flight, two hours later we touched down in Charlotte. We got our luggage got our rental car and left the airport. It was so strange to me how cars drove on the right side of the road, and that most cars were automatic transmission, whereas in South Africa the majority of cars were stick shift. We drove for about forty minutes, on the interstate then what seemed like farm land. I wasnt used to seeing so much open area, I actually liked where we were, it wasnt to close and on top of each other. Finally we arrived at what was going to be our new home. It was a two story house made out of wood. Wood houses were unheard of until I moved. In South Africa houses were all made of brick and concrete. It was also nice to find out that we had heating and cooling, once again in South Africa houses were rarely equipped with such amenities, which cost a fortune to run because electricity was so expensive. For the first week we slept on bare mattresses, waiting for our belongings to be delivered to our house. We had a small ten inch tube TV that we watched at night while we sat on the floor. Eventually our stuff arrived and we spent two days unpacking and deciding where things should go. The unfortunate thing about moving to the US, was that none of the electronics from South Africa that required outlet power, worked here because the output voltage difference. This meant that we had to leave our TV over there and I had to leave my Play Station 2, which was a catastrophe.

Two days later, my sister and I were set to begin school. At the time I was thirteen years old and my sister was eleven. I was to start in the middle of the sixth grade year and my sister would in third grade. Ive never been so nervous in my life, I had no idea what to wear, or even how to act. I arrived to school at 9AM, the principal escorted me to my first class of the day, which was English. He introduced me to the class, then told them where I was from and asked them to help me find my way around the school, in essence, show me the ropes so to speak. Due to me coming in to sixth grade in the middle of the year, I was completely lost in all the classes I was put in. For instance I had no idea what we were learning, and I didnt know where to start. My four periods of the day were, English, Social Studies, P.E., Art, Science and Math to finish off the day. Compared to my previous school, Harris Road was enormous! Once the principal left, everyone talked to me and found out I had a pretty strong British accent. Thus, my name became The British Kid, even though I was from South Africa. This name became associated with me until I left middle school. Everyone wanted be my friend, I was invited by several people to sit with them at lunch and people fought over who got to sit next to me in class. My first day I met so many new people I couldnt possible remember all their names. Being so popular was new to me, but also made me uneasy because I felt as if I was always being watched. This was so strange to me, I never really understood what made me so special. Looking back, this part of my story is where my conflict with literature began. My first challenge was acclimatizing to the way English was taught in the United States. For instance the exercises and assignments assigned were a lot harder than what I was used to doing, because US was ahead in the instruction of the English language. The language barrier was also a bit of a challenge because my accent was so strong many people couldnt understand me.

Communication was difficult, but everyone wanted to be my friend so it wasnt hard to make friends. But as the year progressed, the novelty that was my accent wore off and I found out who my real friends were. Since I knew nothing about the American culture, the clothes I wore were nothing like any of the students. I didnt really realize until someone pointed it o ut. My lack in communication skills with American kids really was a difficult situation, but as time went on I developed a fake American accent which I subconsciously still use. I talked in a way that American people were able to understand, and I was able to sound very similar to the way they spoke, thus not having a foreign accent. For example if I speak to my parents, I use my natural accent, but when talking to Americans, I use my American accent. I dont consciously choose to turn it on or off, it just happens that way. I went and researched why this happens, a professor of psychology stated We unintentionally imitate subtle aspects of each other's mannerisms, postures and facial expressions. We also imitate each other's speech patterns, including inflections, talking speed and speaking time. This is really interesting to me because I never knew that it was possible to mimic an accent but still keep the one I grew up talking with. That year, was the first time I experience the dreaded Red Pen for the first time. I had paper that were painted in red, whereas others only had one or two minor corrections. To be honest, all that red could be disheartening, because I put my blood, sweat and tears into a paper, once I receive it back, I have red marks left, right and center. It took me just a short time to deny the Red Pen on bring me down. From then on, I took whatever corrections I got, no matter how big or small and learned from my mistakes. In my opinion, the teacher that grades my paper is one persons opinion on how my paper should be written. What if my audience wasnt my sixth grade writing teacher? This means I wouldnt have to necessarily have a

structure to my paper, and my thoughts and words could be interpreted differently. Then she might not understand it but another hundred people will. So my point is, the Red Pen is not necessarily ever right, since its one persons opinion on a paper that maybe isnt written for them to read and grade in a certain manner. Since I started writing papers, I was always being told to perform and follow the correct processes to help my paper improve. I agree that there are certain basics that need to be learned and mastered, but to conform a childs writing to some sort of template really hinders them on thinking out of the box so to speak. I believe that when teaching writing they should let the child use their imagination more and write about something that would enjoy writing about. I am one to always go against the system so when I was taught the writing process, I never really followed the guidelines stipulated. I actually resisted what I was taught. This was in part because I felt comfortable with how I wrote and what I wrote about. I hated being graded on how I wrote because there is no real right or wrong in a structural sense. I agree grammar and spelling has a right and a wrong way, but not what you write about. I personally just let the words flow and organize ideas in such a way that makes logical sense. I worked more than I ever have to learn the way I was being taught. Being completely lost in class, really motivated me not to feel helpless in class ever again. But still I wasnt on the same level and any of the other student, and my grades reflected that. Being behind in literacy really hurt me in my other classes such as Social Studies and Science. My first year in the American schooling system really wasnt enjoyable and my grades reflected it with low seventys in all subjects except for art and P.E.

At the start of my seventh grade year, I was slowly acclimatizing to school in general. I made some friends that looked out for me and helped me in any way possible. English was still a struggle, but forced myself to keep going and to just do the best I could. The language issue was still present but I did what I could, slowly but surely I created my false accent which I have pretty much perfected to this day. I dont think many people even know that Im a foreigner due to the fact that I hide my South African accent so well. My literacy experience has really opened my eyes to how we communicate, but also how it took someone like me a while to become accustomed to the culture and everything around me.