Rozeboom 1

Laura Rozeboom
Mr. Hendrix
ELA 10 (6th Hour)
November 4, 2014
Arrival in the New World
The glass doors slid open with a series of jolts and quiet mechanical groans. I yanked
on the plastic handle of my suitcase and put one weary foot in front of the other. Thats when
the wall of heat slammed into my exhausted and jet-lag shaky body. I gasped. Hot air filled my
mouth and raced down my throat into my frightened lungs. I panicked. My heart started racing
as adrenaline hit my blood stream. The roar of a jet overhead filled my ears and sent another
jolt of electricity through my chest. How would I ever survive this heat? My skin prickled and
burned under the unfamiliar sensation. I was a going to be cooked alive.
The concrete pillars reverberated with the sounds of engines starting and car doors
slamming. Across the floor of the parking garage, a pair of high heeled shoes hurriedly clicked
and clacked. I stared in disbelief at the giant boats parked in the massive spaces. I had never
seen cars so big or so ugly. What was this place? Who could possibly survive in this kind of
environment?
The moment I stepped out of the airport, just about every aspect of my life changed. I
became an immigrant on a temporary visa and a foreigner. I was defined by the way I spoke
and considered a bit of a freak show in small town Indiana. People no longer listened to what I
said; instead, they listened my accent and tried to guess where I was from. Germany?
Canada? Australia? I got used to this tired script, No. Im from England... No not London.
Thats a city. England... No I dont know the Queen... I have never met Princess Diana. No.
We dont have crumpets every day... Little did I know that was destined to have the same
conversation but in reverse when I returned to England nine months later. No, I m not
American. Im British...No, they dont all carry guns all the time...They are not all cowboys...

Rozeboom 2
Times Square is nowhere near Indiana...Yes. Everything is big... I became a stranger in both
lands and sometimes a carnival side show. Say something in your accent!
Before I stepped off that plane, I had never thought of myself in terms of nationality. I
was many things: a good reader, a mediocre athlete, a happy loner, a big sister, a spoiled
granddaughter, and the child of a single mother. However, I learned that all of those qualities
were overshadowed by a new label: foreigner, regardless of which side of the Atlantic I was on.
I realized very quickly that people are same everywhere no matter how they speak.
There are outgoing, mean, kind, generous, lost, and lonely people all over the planet, and they
all want the same things: love, purpose, respect, security, hope, and belonging. But most of the
time we think that what divides us is strong than what unites us. As people, we are quick to
judge, categorize, and label. We dont see beyond the obvious to the real person underneath.
I can hide my accent for the most part and avoid being labeled, at least for a while.
When I hide my accent, people listen to what I have to say and see me as a person, but it
comes at a personal cost. Every day I betray a little of my history and my home. I am white and
able bodied, so I blend into the mainstream. Other people cannot. My experience living in
many different cultures has made me more aware of my own prejudices and just how easy it is
to define people by one characteristic: race, class, gender, or religion. I have a long way to go,
but I am committed every day to move beyond labels and build relationships with many of the
wonderfully complicated and messy individuals in this world.

Presentation
The glass doors slid open with a series of jolts and quiet mechanical groans. I yanked
on the plastic handle of my suitcase and put one weary foot in front of the other. Thats when
the wall of heat slammed into my exhausted, jet-lagged, and shaky body. I gasped. My heart

Rozeboom 3
started racing as adrenaline hit my blood stream. The roar of a jet overhead filled my ears and
sent another jolt of electricity through my chest. How would I ever survive this heat? My skin
prickled and burned under the unfamiliar sensation. I was going to be cooked alive.
Before I stepped off that plane, I had never thought of myself in terms of nationality. I
was many things: a good reader, a mediocre athlete, a happy loner, a big sister, a spoiled
granddaughter, and the child of a single mother, however, I learned that all of those qualities
were overshadowed by a new label: foreigner, regardless of which side of the Atlantic I was on.
The moment I stepped out of the airport, just about every aspect of my life changed. I
became an immigrant and a foreigner I was defined by the way I spoke and considered a bit of
a freak show in small town Indiaina. People no longer listened to what I said; instead, they
listened to my accent and tried to guess where I was from. Germany? Canada? Australia?
As people, we are quick to judge, categorize, and label. We dont see beyond the
obvious to the real person underneath. I can hide my accent for the most part and avoid being
labeled, at least for a while. I am white and able bodied, so I blend into the mainstream. Other
people cannot. My experience living in many different cultures has made me more aware of my
own prejudices and just how easy it is to define people by one characteristic: race, class,
gender, or religion. I have a long way to go, but I am committed every day to move beyond
labels and build relationships with many of the wonderfully complicated and messy individuals in
this world.