One profoundly meaningful moment in my journey with language and literacy occurred on my very first day of school in the United States. As a fifth-grader who had yet to grasp the complexities of the English language, this moment marked the beginning of my journey to learn English. 

It was September 9, 2015, 8:11 am when I entered the courtyard of my first elementary school in the United States, P.S. 64. My parents said good luck and left my side when we reached the gate. As I walked in, my stomach slightly fell and my heart slowly got heavier as I went deeper into the courtyard. There were hundreds of kids but I didn’t see any familiar faces. I walked around the courtyard peeking at the signs hanging on the fences to look for my assigned class, 5-317. After about two minutes of looking, I finally found my classmates and joined them at the back of the line. Most of the kids knew each other already and were catching up on what they did over the summer break. Some would look my way but never say anything. Meanwhile, I was just relieved that I was able to find my class. I was praying in my mind that things would go well and the day would be over soon. I checked the time on my watch and it was 8:20 am when my teacher. Mr. Diaz arrived and said some words, which I didn’t understand. All the kids started following behind him down the courtyard and into the building, so naturally, I also followed.

As I stepped into the classroom, I noticed in front of the class there was a smartboard that I’d never seen before, which said “Welcome Class of 2016”. There were posters hung around the room and pictures of certificates in the shape of owls that said “Owl of the Month”. Whatever it meant, that was the least of my worries. In the back of the class were desks with computers which got my attention most of the time because I’ve never seen computers like that. As everyone entered the class, I imitated the other students around me, searching for a desk and diligently arranging my notebooks and pencils, mimicking their actions. The desks resembled drawers, providing storage for our supplies and materials, and I followed suit, organizing my belongings just like the others. Mr. Diaz walked back into the class and began talking to the class. I think he was introducing himself because he mentioned his name in the middle of some unknown words. The students suddenly began to talk to each other and started questioning each member of the group. I realized that they were introducing themselves because everyone said their name and some kind of food name. It was eventually my turn and before they could even ask the question, I blurted out “My name is Tanvir Islam. Food is Biryani”. They stared at me for a little longer than I would have liked but eventually moved on. I was so thankful to my English teacher back home who taught me how to say my name and a few other words. The teacher began talking to the class again but this time for a while. I was completely lost and confused, unable to decipher the unfamiliar words. I looked at the student beside me who was wearing a hijab, since most girls in my culture wear a hijab, I thought she would know my language. With a low voice, I asked her “O ki boltase?” (what is he saying?). She looked at me with confusion and asked me to repeat. Later I found out the reason she was wearing the hijab was because she was Muslim, it had nothing to do with my culture. This was like a do-or-die experience for me because after that interaction failed I did not have the confidence to talk to anyone. I felt like a stranger in a foreign land, isolated by my inability to understand and communicate.

The days that followed were a blur of confusion and loneliness. While my classmates were engaged in the learning process, I separated myself. Mr. Diaz realized that I didn’t speak any English because I wasn’t following the instructions he gave, even though I was trying my best to mimic the other students. When the class began, he sent me to the computers in the back and made me do “ABC” activities as if I didn’t know the alphabet. I knew how to read and write, but my proficiency was far from perfect. He isolated me from the class during lessons and made me do educational “games” on a website called “Starfall.” While every other student was learning the curriculum, I sat in the back, feeling like the odd one out. I was embarrassed to be the only kid learning this, and I couldn’t make eye contact with my classmates for fear that they might laugh at me. As a result, I felt increasingly isolated and disoriented, unable to participate or complete any assignments. Each day, the weight of frustration and loneliness grew heavier, and I yearned for the comfort of my home country. These moments of isolation and alienation left an indelible mark on my journey with language and literacy. I often wonder how many others have experienced a similar story, feeling like a lone star in the vast galaxy of education. It’s a journey I believe many newcomers to a foreign land may share, as they grapple with the challenges of language and assimilation. 

However, every difficult journey comes to a crucial turning point. My turning point emerged in the early struggles of being assigned to an ESL mentor. With unwavering dedication and the nurturing guidance of my ESL teacher, my grasp of English began to flourish. Over the months, I diligently honed my skills in reading, writing, and speaking, culminating in outstanding performance in the ESL final exam. This achievement signified more than academic success; it marked my transition into a world where I felt a deep sense of belonging. These milestones were merely the first steps in an ongoing journey of growth and discovery.