One Step at a Time

by Yonu Oh (7)

One tear, two countries, three sighs, four tickets, and five schools. That’s how my life worked. Moving from one place to another; there was no stopping. Every year seemed like a blur to me. Every time I got accustomed to a new city to call home, I would find myself on a plane to a whole new world that I didn’t want to go to. There was nothing I could do about it. Nothing.

Moving is hard. Everybody knows that. Some people are lucky enough to find themselves in one place for their entire lives. However, that is not my case. During the twelve years of my life, I have been to five schools, never in one school for more than two years. I have lived in North Carolina, Texas, Georgia, South Korea, and California, each place as strange as the other. Nothing was ever easy for me. I wished it was for a long long time.

The schools and the students I met were fairly nice; though, not everyone in the school was kind to me. When I lived in San

Antonio, Texas, I was the only Asian kid in the entire school. People didn’t know how to treat a girl with my looks, so they didn’t bother to try. I was the lonely, skinny Asian girl who nobody wanted to talk to. The rejection was a harsh thing for a third grader to handle. However, I would always blink back my tears, sit on the bench, and read my sorrows away.

Not only is moving schools hard, but moving to different states or countries is even harder. All the memories I left in the place I lived would vanish and never be thought of again. Although I didn’t have many friends at a young age, I still had some people to call my companions. It was so hard saying goodbye to the only people who were nice to me. We would all shed tears, and they would beg me not to leave. However, what was decided could not be changed.

Also, I had moved back and forth between Korea and America. This was difficult for me as a bilingual girl. I always had to change languages when I spoke, and sometimes mispronounced words or forgot how to say them. Those times were embarrassing to me. All my classmates in America and Korea knew how to speak English or Korean fluently. I, however, could not do either.

Over the years, I have developed into a stronger and more intelligent person from my experiences and situations with moving. Now, I have friends that I can spill all my secrets to and I can speak both languages better than ever. Even though moving is a trying experience, there are some benefits to it.

“Look on the bright side,” was what I would always tell myself. “There’s always a bright side.”

With a perspective, I’m

Yonu Oh.

by Cecile Smith (11)