I was on my way to the first day of school. My hands were all sweaty lying in my lap, while my legs were trembling. I was very nervous. I didn’t want to go to school, but I had to. I walked into my classroom so my parents could introduce themselves and me. I was holding onto their hands as tight as I could, almost so hard that I could break them. All of the kids in the class stared at me like I was a new play toy, the pretty new doll in the daycare. That was the weirdest look I have ever seen anybody give me. I looked at my mom and dad repeatedly, back and forth trying to tell them that I didn't want to stay. My teacher looked at me and said, “Platz nehmen,” so I sat down uncomfortably next to a girl. I didn’t want to leave my parents and I tried to tell them that, but I had to. That first day went by pretty fast, though I didn't really like it. After going to school for a while, I began to like it more and more. I became friends with more kids, most in my class.

One day I was at home and my parents came and told me we were moving to America. Although I was happy, I was sad, too. I was happy that I would be able to meet new people, but I was sad that I would have to leave behind all of my friends and family in Switzerland. It would be tough to leave behind my family. I had been through so much with them and my grandpa in Switzerland was my best friend. 

When we arrived in America we stayed with my other grandparents for about six months. Then we found a house on top of the hill in Coal Valley, only about five minutes away from my grandparents. I started first grade here. Another first day of school to endure. I didn't know any English, so the principle had to show me around and tell me where everything was. He brought me to a classroom and said, “This is your classroom.” It was just like kindergarten in Switzerland. I looked up to my parents, looked back and forth, and then let go of their hands to walk into the classroom. They waved me goodbye. 

I met my best friend, Jenna, on the first day of school. We went out for recess and I was just sitting against the wall. Jenna walked up to me, she didn't have to say anything. She just stuck out her hand, I grabbed it and we went to play on the playground. She was always there for me. She was probably the only person who never made a joke about me. To this day, Jenna and I are still best friends. I couldn't ask for a better friend.
After about three months of school I knew a little English, so I could talk to people. My dad would speak English to me and my sisters at home, so we would get used to it. He never talked to us in German, which that is all he does now. Now all he wants us to do is speak German in the house, so we don't forget how to speak it.
       

It is tough because I say things wrong and people make fun of me for it. It hurts when you are from a different place and people make fun of you for an accent or when you say things that may not make sense. I was not born here, English isn't my mother language, and I don't know English as well as everybody else. I get laughed at for something I can't change, something I can’t do anything about. Bullies mentally beat me up everyday, but I learned how to stand up for myself. I realized that I shouldn’t care what people say about me because later in life all the things that those kids said won’t affect me. I probably won’t even see those kids anymore out of high school, so why should they matter to me? Whatever those kids have to say, doesn’t bother me anymore and it shouldn’t bother anybody else.
     

I wish that I could go back to Switzerland. I want all of my old friends back; I want my old life back. I want to go back to school there. My only big wish is to be able to live with my family over there again. You have no idea how much I miss them. Words cannot explain the pain that I feel when just the thought of one of my cousins, or my grandfather with cancer comes into my mind. What hurts the most is seeing a picture of them and seeing how they’ve gone through their life knowing that I was not a part of it.
     

 I went to Switzerland this summer and I saw how happy my family was and I think about how my life would be better if I were over there. We had a family reunion that we have every year. Sadly, I’ve only gotten to go to it about two or three times. During the summer when we went over there and had the reunion, I got to see so many of my cousins and aunts and uncles and, most importantly, my grandparents. They were all so happy and joyful. Sometimes I wonder if they forget about me and my family, but once in a while we get a card. I have a godfather; his name is Andreas. There's moments when I think that he has forgotten about me because he doesn’t send cards or anything. He never calls and on my birthday I didn’t even get a card. Missing my family from Switzerland is one of the things that makes me cry the most. I haven’t been to any of my cousins’ birthdays since we moved.
       

I beg my parents to move back, but we don't have the money and my dad would have to leave his job that he loves so much. I would love to move back. I miss all of my friends that are over there. Seeing them this summer, made me sad that I wasn't there for all the things that have happened. They were all happy and smiling and enjoying their life, and all I could think about the whole time was that I want to move back.
The few weeks in a year that I got to Switzerland are the weeks that I cherish the most in life. Doesn’t matter what I do there, if I play video games with my cousin, if we go swimming with the rest of my family, even if just sitting at the table eating a meal as two families put into one, those are the times that I will remember the rest of my life. My family from Switzerland means the world to me. Not being able to see them, kills me on the inside. I took advantage of being able to see them and I tried my best to spend the most amount of time with them as possible. I love them so much. My grandfather from Switzerland has cancer in his back and there is no way they can cure it. Soon he will die and I will not be able to go to his funeral. I will not be there to comfort my grandmother or the rest of my family. I would like to be there with them through everything, but sadly I cannot be. My parents do not know how much I want to go back.
     

 If we were to stay over there, I would have probably never done the stupid things I have done to this day. I would’ve never turned out the way I am right now. I would have been more respectful to my parents. I would have learned manners and I would never say words I do now. I wouldn't care what kids think about the clothes that I wear. Here all I can think about in the morning when I wake up is what I should wear. If you are not wearing “cool” clothes you get made fun of, you get bullied. In Switzerland, kids don’t care about what you wear. They don’t make fun of you if you're not pretty. They don’t care if your shoes are not fashionable. Most of the kids over there don’t care about fashion. Nobody, no kids anywhere, should care about fashion. I believe that you should be able to wear what you want without being put down for it. You shouldn’t get bullied because of something so simple. 
       

There's so much I regret doing to this day. Then again, doesn't everything happen for a purpose? I am the person I am because of my past experiences. Switzerland and America have made me the way I am today and I am proud of that. Doesn't every difficult thing lead to something good in the future? Constantly getting bullied about how I am helped me to become as confident of a person as I am today. I wouldn’t want to be anybody but who I am.