Help, please
Ok, this is the polished essay that requires some serious attention. It is for my Writer's craft class, and if anyone or everyone can correct this, it will be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
Living in Both Worlds
By Young Kim
It was the fall of 1996 when a small oriental girl took her first step inside an elementary school located in the middle of Paris. Her eyes shone brightly, revealing her excitement, but her lips were tightly shut, forming a thin, straight line that showed her nervousness. Her hair neatly tied back into a low ponytail along with her huge glasses, gave her a very bookish, librarian look. Her small fingers were tightly wrapped around the handle of her knapsack as she was lead to a classroom by a tall blonde woman. The woman murmured few words to her that she couldn’t understand which caused her to tighten her grip on her bag. It was her first time seeing any blond person that close, except for the time when she arrived at the airport about a week ago. However, when she entered the classroom, she realized that it certainly wouldn’t be her last time since at least a dozen blond haired children gazed at her, curiosity evident in their blue, green or honey-colored eyes. She suddenly felt very alone, her black hair and narrow, dark brown eyes clearly distinguishing her from everyone else. That girl was me, on my first day in French public school where I spent three years of my childhood.
My family decided to move to France from Korea when I was nine years old, and it was one of the most drastic changes in my life. For the first time, I saw people who had pale skin, non-black hair, big nose and round eyes. They reminded me of the characters from fairy tales, such as Cinderella or Zack, friendly but not realistic. Whenever I looked around me, I was shocked, scared and intrigued by what I saw. Everything was so new and so foreign. However, reality didn’t let me dwell on this culture shock. I had to adapt to this new world as soon as possible. I struggled to move my tongue in certain ways to speak the words that weren’t Korean and I scribbled strange figures made of loops, dots and lines called ‘alphabets’ in my notebook. I was always on my toes, my narrow eyes wider than usual, trying to catch every single detail. I felt like the explorer from Indiana Jones, my heart beating around my ears, my hands tempted to reach out and explore the new things, but fearing the trouble that I might cause. I knew that I was in a world where I was alone and different from others, where I was ignorant to many things. I knew that I had a lot to learn.
It didn’t take me long to realize that the best way to learn is to listen to your teachers. In my case, my teachers were my new French friends. As they spoke, I sat near the back and simply listened. Their stories were usually nothing more than a gossip or an everyday conversation but they directly reflected the morals, values and the norm of French culture. While listening, I nodded my head occasionally with a small smile always present on my lips but I hardly expressed my own opinion. At first, this was my only option because I didn’t know the language, but as I started to understand more French, I intentionally avoided talking about myself too soon, and listening became my choice. By listening, I realized that other people’s stories were pretty interesting, too, and that you could learn a lot of things that you would’ve missed if you were the one talking. During conversations, my brain quickly analyzed and memorized the details of their stories and the way they phrased things for future reference for expressing my own opinion. As a result, I gained a habit of thinking over what I wanted to say before actually saying it, because I wanted to avoid mistakes and overcome my disadvantages in communication as a foreigner. I learned to observe others and figure out what they thought through a medium other than words. For once in my life, I wasn’t too busy talking about myself only, so I listened.
Listening intensively to the French people accelerated my rate of adaptation to French society, and my mind started accepting the influences from its culture. As I began to pick up the language, I slowly started to share my Korean background with my French friends, teaching them about my culture in the same way that they taught me theirs. We learned that there is a big difference between two cultures but as long as both sides listen to each other, the difference cannot cause any isolation. Two different worlds started to co-exist in my head and I developed my own mindset that reflected the values of both societies. I started to think different from both French and Korean people, but my mind shared a common ground with both worlds. I learned that I was different, unique and special but never alone.
During my last year in France, my school had a costume party. I dressed up in traditional Korean clothing, which consisted of long, pink skirt and a matching top that had a huge ribbon at the front. The entire outfit was decorated by embroidered flower and animal patterns, each pattern symbolizing a quality or a wish. Everyone was commenting on how pretty my costume was and I was able to explain to them the meaning of each pattern on it in fluent French, how the lotus flower represented innocence and gold turtle wished long life. I felt very different from others -certainly nobody had same costume as me-, but I never felt alone, because I was living in both worlds.
Living in Both Worlds
By Young Kim
It was the fall of 1996 when a small oriental girl took her first step inside an elementary school located in the middle of Paris. Her eyes shone brightly, revealing her excitement, but her lips were tightly shut, forming a thin, straight line that showed her nervousness. Her hair neatly tied back into a low ponytail along with her huge glasses, gave her a very bookish, librarian look. Her small fingers were tightly wrapped around the handle of her knapsack as she was lead to a classroom by a tall blonde woman. The woman murmured few words to her that she couldn’t understand which caused her to tighten her grip on her bag. It was her first time seeing any blond person that close, except for the time when she arrived at the airport about a week ago. However, when she entered the classroom, she realized that it certainly wouldn’t be her last time since at least a dozen blond haired children gazed at her, curiosity evident in their blue, green or honey-colored eyes. She suddenly felt very alone, her black hair and narrow, dark brown eyes clearly distinguishing her from everyone else. That girl was me, on my first day in French public school where I spent three years of my childhood.
My family decided to move to France from Korea when I was nine years old, and it was one of the most drastic changes in my life. For the first time, I saw people who had pale skin, non-black hair, big nose and round eyes. They reminded me of the characters from fairy tales, such as Cinderella or Zack, friendly but not realistic. Whenever I looked around me, I was shocked, scared and intrigued by what I saw. Everything was so new and so foreign. However, reality didn’t let me dwell on this culture shock. I had to adapt to this new world as soon as possible. I struggled to move my tongue in certain ways to speak the words that weren’t Korean and I scribbled strange figures made of loops, dots and lines called ‘alphabets’ in my notebook. I was always on my toes, my narrow eyes wider than usual, trying to catch every single detail. I felt like the explorer from Indiana Jones, my heart beating around my ears, my hands tempted to reach out and explore the new things, but fearing the trouble that I might cause. I knew that I was in a world where I was alone and different from others, where I was ignorant to many things. I knew that I had a lot to learn.
It didn’t take me long to realize that the best way to learn is to listen to your teachers. In my case, my teachers were my new French friends. As they spoke, I sat near the back and simply listened. Their stories were usually nothing more than a gossip or an everyday conversation but they directly reflected the morals, values and the norm of French culture. While listening, I nodded my head occasionally with a small smile always present on my lips but I hardly expressed my own opinion. At first, this was my only option because I didn’t know the language, but as I started to understand more French, I intentionally avoided talking about myself too soon, and listening became my choice. By listening, I realized that other people’s stories were pretty interesting, too, and that you could learn a lot of things that you would’ve missed if you were the one talking. During conversations, my brain quickly analyzed and memorized the details of their stories and the way they phrased things for future reference for expressing my own opinion. As a result, I gained a habit of thinking over what I wanted to say before actually saying it, because I wanted to avoid mistakes and overcome my disadvantages in communication as a foreigner. I learned to observe others and figure out what they thought through a medium other than words. For once in my life, I wasn’t too busy talking about myself only, so I listened.
Listening intensively to the French people accelerated my rate of adaptation to French society, and my mind started accepting the influences from its culture. As I began to pick up the language, I slowly started to share my Korean background with my French friends, teaching them about my culture in the same way that they taught me theirs. We learned that there is a big difference between two cultures but as long as both sides listen to each other, the difference cannot cause any isolation. Two different worlds started to co-exist in my head and I developed my own mindset that reflected the values of both societies. I started to think different from both French and Korean people, but my mind shared a common ground with both worlds. I learned that I was different, unique and special but never alone.
During my last year in France, my school had a costume party. I dressed up in traditional Korean clothing, which consisted of long, pink skirt and a matching top that had a huge ribbon at the front. The entire outfit was decorated by embroidered flower and animal patterns, each pattern symbolizing a quality or a wish. Everyone was commenting on how pretty my costume was and I was able to explain to them the meaning of each pattern on it in fluent French, how the lotus flower represented innocence and gold turtle wished long life. I felt very different from others -certainly nobody had same costume as me-, but I never felt alone, because I was living in both worlds.