I am glad America is a country of immigrants. My parents came from India in the 1980s. If America didn't allow them to come, my parents, my sisters and I wouldn't be here. Even though my parents are now in America, they still keep their old traditions. They wear the same Indian clothes, celebrate Indian holidays, eat the same foods, and believe in the same religion. My sisters and I do the same, but we also live an average American Life. We watch T.V., listen to music and go to school. I am glad that I am Indian-American, and that my parents were able to come here because American welcomed them with open arms.

I am very proud that I am Indian-American. I can speak 3 different languages, English, Hindi, and Gujarati. I listen to American and Indian music, foods, clothes, holidays and still practice my religion. I am always tempted to learn new facts and history about my Indian culture. Every month I ask my mom to tell me a new fact about my Indian culture. When she is done, I would think "Wow, I got to learn about another culture. Sure some kids around the U.S. learn about their cultural background such as Greek, Korean, Haitian or Scandinavian, but not too many kids get to learn about India like me." I feel unique because of this. America allows me to feel this way.

If America wasn't a tossed salad or a melting pot, I might not have friends like Daniel whose parents came from Poland, or Katharine whose grandfather emigrated from Greece.

Many Indians brought special foods with them when they came to America. My parents did too. They brought foods such as papard, Indian chips, and some Indian spices like masala. This spice is the spiciest of all and is my favorite. It adds to all foods. If I was with my parents when they immigrated, I would have brought my favorite Indian food…Samosas!!!!! It is a triangle shaped bread that is fried. Inside you put potatoes and peas with the spice masala.

At home my mom asks me to teach her English so she can speak better and learn more. She has an accent so she wants to learn. That's becoming part of the melting pot. When she told our neighbors once to go home, they laughed because of her accent. Then I looked at her and saw the embarrassment in her eyes. It just breaks my heart so I taught her more English. Now when she talks to the kids, they can understand her. Now when I look at her, she is smiling. Then I would say, "You made them understand." And she would say, "Tell me something I don't know." Then we would both laugh. Now that my mom knows English she can mesh with the American culture and feel proud.

When my parents came they brought a tiny piece of India with them. They added another ingredient to the tossed salad and made the melting pot a little bigger. I am (insert child's name) and I am glad America is a country of immigrants.

I still remember that frightening night when I was just seven years old. It all began when my mother gently slapped me on the cheek and woke me. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Soldiers are a block away and they are burning people's houses, stealing belongings, and killing people", she said. "Quick, we are escaping by boat - to America." I had heard of America, it was described as the land of the free. I was worried to leave home, but excited to go somewhere new and free, far away from the growing violence in my country.

We took only what we could carry and headed straight for the harbor. While we were escaping to the harbor all I could hear were people crying, gunshots and a fire in the background that was burning houses. My mom started to cry, then my dad, then my brother, then me. We were at the end of the line, worried that we would not get on a boat at all. Luckily, we were able to squeeze on to the very last boat.

The ride across the Pacific Ocean was very long and tedious. Every day I thought about America, hoping we would all be happy and safe there. My little brother constantly asked my parents, "How many days to America?" The answer was always, "Not many." I never believed my father's words and I thought he was just trying to make us feel better. Not many days turned out to be one hundred long days. We finally landed in America, exhausted, hungry, but free and ready to start a new life.

Months passed and during that time and I worked very hard on my schoolwork. I learned how to speak, read and write in English. At first it was very hard to make new friends in a new county. I was shy, concerned about what other's thought about me, and embarrassed about my accent. It was uneasy to just start playing with someone I did not know well. But I decided it was important to me to have friends in this new country, in my new home. I started to play with lots of the kids. After a long period of time I was able to have someone call me his best friend; that made me feel so good. Finally, I started to feel like I fit in.

Now that I have been living in America for many years, I can look back and appreciate where I came from and all the hardships my family worked through. I also appreciate all the friends I have made over the years, many of them immigrants like me. I know I am lucky to live in America. I am still an immigrant, but this is my home now. At first I did not want to be different, but eventually I realized that differences is what America is all about.

My father was born deaf in Kenya, East Africa. He is originally Indian. He was schooled in a mixed school of hearing and deaf. The school system there was not good for the deaf in the 1960's through the 1970's, though. His aunt had seen that the education for the deaf in America was better. She had contacted his parents, and his parents asked him if he would like to go to America for a better chance at deaf education. But he'd rather go to England. He had decided to come for his parent's sake. He had come, and went to Ohio, because there was a high school for the deaf there, and his aunt had lived there. He had trouble learning the sign language used here in America, because there were completely different signs there. He had then completed high school in Ohio. He went to New York, and completed 2 years of college there. Then he was off to DC to go to Gallaudet University. His major was in accounting. He became a US citizen at this point in time. He looked for a job and got one. He had a few job positions. He is currently working in the US Department of State as a budget analyst. If he hadn't come to America, and continued his life in Africa, he may have lived as a poor man, or have a low education, and not have a job in a place as important as the US Department of State. He has a better lifestyle than what he would have had if he didn't make the switch. For example, he has a much better communication with other by using interpreters and using gadgets such as email, pagers, and closed captioning on television. My father is blessed to have the opportunity to come here to America, learning more than he thought he would have. For example, if you were deaf in Africa, you weren't allowed to drive, or get a high paying job, or even have the knowledge he has now. I am proud to have a father like mine, and I know that if he went through his life, that I could probably do the same.

I have a bad dream that I'm going down the street. I walk past my favorite place to eat, the China Buffet, and it disappears. So I walk fast down the street and I see my friend from Cuba disappear. Then I start jogging down the street and see my second favorite place to eat, a Mexican restaurant, fade away. Finally, I'm running down the street and I see my friend, her relatives, her friends, my relatives, and finally me disappear.

Without these immigrants America would not be the united country it is now. There would be no Chinese, Mexican, French, and all the rest of the restaurants, toys, and traditions we have today. We have to remember America is a blooming flower. It arms are open to immigrants. Without immigrants, it would a flower without water; it would last long.

As immigrants leave what they know and come to what they need, they bring with them a multitude of things. They bring traditions, new foods, religion, and new games. It makes America a whole lot stronger a better.

The reason that America makes a reservation in my heart hotel and checks in never to leave is not because it's big, not because it's pretty, but because it cares. It doesn't leave people behind, not mean people, not nice people, not rich people, and not poor people. So why should immigrants be any different?

Although these new arrivals brought some bad things, they brought many good ones. With them came games, food, traditions, and religion. That's why I'm glad America is a nation of immigrants.

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