America reminds me of a beautiful patchwork quilt that covers our nation with a diversity of immigrants. Each quilt square is made up of different colors and textures with a unique design and pattern. Every fabric piece tells an immigrant’s story about overcoming hardships, seeking opportunities, and reaching for dreams. Threads of different languages, customs, foods, cultures, religions, and skills hold all these pieces together. I’m glad America is a nation of immigrants because these individual patchwork pieces make the whole American quilt more beautiful.

The quilt covers my home, school, neighborhood, and city. It warms me when I celebrate the feast of fishes on Christmas Eve like my father’s Italian ancestors did, when I play with my Greek friend Katarina after school, or when I share the basket blessing tradition at Easter with my neighbor, Peter, in his church on Polish Hill. I see many colors in the fabric at my school when I look around at all the different skin tones. I feel how enormous the quilt is when I go through the Strip District and read the storefront signs like Sam-Bok, Stamboolis, Benkovitz, and Sunseri.

I cherish each piece of our country’s quilt. All the immigrant patches are still unique, even though they are sewn together as one. They make our country rich, full, and strong. America ’s patchwork quilt is a precious heirloom that should be handled with pride, and handed down through the generations of American history.

America, America
lovely and bright,
so full of bluebonnets
and coyotes at night.
Free as a bird,
that soars in the sky,
oh, how I love the way
your flag waves far and wide.
Immigrant, immigrant,
traveling from afar,
warmly welcomed in America ,
are those who are scarred.
That’s what I am,
and I want to be free,
I want to have value,
and I want to be me.
I set out on a journey
and far will I roam
until I reach my new country,
a place I’ll call home.
In this country of immigrants,
I want to have meaning
to have a life of peace
and freedom of being.
I travel to America
where opportunity awaits,
the land of the free
and the home of the brave.

The Dutch Butcher, the German Baker, the Chinese who created paper,
to this great land gathers great skill,
and we all contribute, so do I, and make America greater still.
From some lands people flee,
To America the place of democracy,
For where they originated they had no freedom or rights for they had a dictator
who didn’t treat them right.
I am glad I have hearts of hope, dreams of freedom to be and practice
who and what I want to be.
For freedom there is a price.
We all must stand together willing to fight.
We all must stand together and earn this right
Without these cultures from near and far, today we wouldn’t be who we are.
Pasta from Italy , bread from Germany , and piniatas that come from Mexico ,
are what makes America unique.
All these things put together strengthen our unity and create one big community.
America the land of opportunity is a place where everybody has an equal chance
including me!!!
That is why I am glad is a nation of immigrants.

America is a nation of immigrants
As you can plainly see
Someone in your history
Made a change in your family tree.

Everyone must have a time
When they moved from place to place
To live a better life
And challenge it face to face

People come to America
For freedom and for rights
To speak freely and be educated
And explore new heights

My parents are from Vietnam
Dad escaped by boat
If someone was lucky, they’d make it to shore
If not, in the ocean they’d have to float

My parents changed my whole life
If they hadn’t moved here
I would be in a different county
Living in a land of fear

My classmates are from here and there
We are all different races
We speak many languages
And smile with different faces

America is a nation of immigrants
We don’t care what race you are
The poor and rich should know
You’re welcome from near or far.

My grandma was from Russia
Her dad had a different belief.
The army came and seized him
Which caused her family grief.

She made it to the United States,
Fell in love with a Russian man,
War was looming, he signed up.
“Let’s marry while we can.”

They had three kids
All three were raised as Jews.
My dad met mom, a Christian girl
And they had two little new.

Our self portrait is not crystal clear.
When asked, what do we tell?
There is no single label
That tells our story well.

We go to an international school
There are kids of every kind.
Every race and faith and country
Makes it even a better time.

When we seek out those who differ,
Respect all points of view,
We are happier, wiser, stronger,
And our country’s safer too.

We do not care
Whether yellow, black, or white,
Immigrant or native--
IT IS ALL RIGHT!

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