Personal Narrative Essay Literature & Language Essay

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Growing up, I have seen the different ways in which people treat and perceive individuals with disabilities. Some treat individuals with disabilities with respect, whereas others treat them with disparagement. Some empathize with individuals with disabilities and the challenges they face, whereas others feel uncomfortable being around or associating with individuals with disabilities. I have also seen discrimination based on language whereby immigrants are expected to learn English before coming to the United States or be enrolled in ESL (English as a Second Language) classes upon arrival. Last summer, my perspective about individuals with disabilities and non-speaking individuals changed. This change was facilitated by a six-year-old cousin.
My aunt and uncle had called me over to their house, claiming that they had some news to share. I sat eagerly on an armchair on the front porch. The wind was motionless and silent. The plants that decorated the driveway were stationery and unmoving. The birds that had perched their nests on the macadamia tree were lazily chirping. The sun was as hot as fire itself. Even the floor and walls were hot. I thought to myself, “I could use a glass of cold water.” My thoughts were interrupted by distant footsteps. As I turned around to get a clear view of what was transpiring, I saw my aunt and uncle making their way to where I was seated. They then told me that they had decided to adopt a six-year-old boy named Mark from China, increasing the size of our already boisterous and diverse family.
When this news hit my ears, I was exhilarated. I was about to meet an adorable young lad whose prime age would call me to perform ridiculous and foolish acts that would send him into crazy fits of laughter and where bewilderment is achieved through electronics and simple magic tricks. It was also an opportunity for me to experience a whole new culture in the process. I would hear tales of unique cultural practices and get to be a part of my uncle and aunt’s experience as first-time parents.
Before I could meet this young lad, my aunt shared a crucial piece of information with me. “When Mark was born,” she said, “his right leg was shorter than his left leg.” “He is also just beginning to comprehend the English language,” she concluded. With this informative yet cautious buildup, my outlook started to change. I was panicky. My outlook shifted from expecting a jumpy and joyous young boy, to expecting a weak young boy, latching onto his parents’ legs, begging to return his room in his newly accepted home. I also expected to see a young boy scared of his surroundings, let alone eager relatives wanting to hug and squeeze him to their content.
As I walked toward the living room where we would meet, I braced myself. I felt beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. Howe...