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The only problem was I knew on one

I am 16, but I feel like I have a life time of understand but no one else can seem to understand it.
I come from an Irish Catholic household. My mother is Irish but she grew up just south of San Francisco. Her parents emigrated to the US from Ireland and she works as an English school teacher at a local affluent catholic school in town. My father grew up in Northern Ireland (Co. Fermanagh) and he emigrated to the US because of the Troubles in 1986. He is a carpenter from a bloodline of master woodworkers in Ireland going back 6 generations. He has been perfecting his craft ever since he dropped out of school at age 15 because his teachers called him stupid and beat him due to his creative dyslexia. When the recession of 2006 hit, he was forced to close up his shop, of around 20 employees, and set up his shop in our garage and continue his art all by himself. He now produces pieces of art that won him 6 National awards but he stopped entering the competitions because he got embarrassed of winning. He is the only person who can see the world in the way I can.
Because I come from an Irish family, I grew up with the Irish culture and music in my house. Every year my family attends a Tionól (pronounced: chunall. Trans. From Irish to “Gathering”) and Irish musicians from all over the world come together for a weekend in November to play tunes. There is beer in every glass and music coming from every room. The people who come to this event are AWESOME! They are all fun to be around and when meeting you for the first time might even throw an insult in their greeting wile smiling from ear to ear. This is the Irish culture that was so rich that I grew up in.
I live in a small town called San Juan. I went to a public school called Marco Forester and had the best time of my life. There was about a 75% Hispanic occupation to the school and I found myself making more Hispanic friends than Caucasian friends. I was the only white kid on the San Juan soccer team and I was perfectly happy with that.
I found that my Mexican friends had a richer sense of culture than any of my white friends because they have parents that immigrated and carry their culture with them. My friends live and act by the culture that they grew up with. They carry with them the pride of their culture and have a live in which they are content and perfectly happy. They aren’t lost on their path to find out who they are. They don’t need anyone to tell them where they belong because they already know. They know form a young age how to act and behave. How to humble themselves and how to pursuit a modest and satisfying life. Although they might be unaware, I can see it in them. I can see how the hold themselves and how they tell their stories that there is so much more to their life than anyone else.
As time passes on, I am separated from my good friends to go to high school. All the kids from my old school when to the public high school and I when to the other school….
Since my mother is a teacher at a very affluent private school, she was able to get me in, free of tuition. She thought that she was doing the right thing and was really excited for me to be with her through the school day. The only problem was I knew on one.
I when to summer school in order to catch up in my school credits to join the new school and that wasted my whole summer and I didn’t even have a chance to hang out with anyone over the summer from Marco. When the school year started, I was so lost. I didn’t know a single person besides my mom at the school so the first few weeks were hell. I felt like I was out of place and the huge change in the ethnicity demographic didn’t help at all. At this new private catholic school, the majority was White and that was something I was not used to. I started to feel really depressed and cried myself to sleep countless times because I haven’t even seen my old friends in months.
I realised here what made my old friends so special and unique. I realised what it meant to be the only white kid on the soccer team. I realised that the new kind of people that I was forced to interact with were so blinded and oblivious to the truth. My old friends had the pride and the humbleness that come with the culture but the new “friends” I was making couldn’t even begin to understand that there is a whole world out there filled with a unique culture from every single country. My “friends” were so happy and content with their shallow and hallow life styles. They would go to school, then go to Starbucks with a friend, then go home. Only to do the same thing over again day after day.
The American culture is undeveloped and you could see it in the people is was at school with. The go home and watch football on a Sunday. They go and spent a bunch of money on a college degree before they even find out what they want to do with their life. And they are perfectly content with their lives and they can’t see what they are missing out on.
I lost all hope and cut off all relationships with these new “friends”.
I was at an all-time low when I met them. A pair of twins. Ashley and Tara.
They were a breath of fresh air. When I met them they appeared to be like me they had the greater understanding and they could see how everyone is misled. Although they don’t know they = have it, I could see it in them and was curious on how they could actually enjoy life living with everyone here. So for the rest of the year I stuck with them and became really close to them in order to find how they can do it. The showed me how to overcome my struggles and helped me gain the happiness that I had lost without even noticing it. They pulled me out of the dark when I lost all hope. I owe them I debt that I can never repay.
Then finally, I finished freshman year.
And due to my discomfort, and apart from my begging and pleading, my parents took me out of private school and back to public school. My mom was disappointed in me because she worked so hard for the opportunity for me to go to school at the affluent school that she taught because on a teacher’s and carpenter’s salary couldn’t have done it, and I gave it all away. My mom never could understand the real and much deeper meaning to what was happening at the school, but my dad did. He was able to see the discomfort and pain I was in before I could even tell him. Without him I would have had to stay at the school, but my mother accepted my dad’s explanation and allowed me to switch schools.
I was welcomed back to my friends with a warm smile, a friendly punch in the arm, and an insult in the greeting they gave to me. Everything was great again. The new school had the same ethical demographic as Marco and I was once again happy. I was the only white kid at our lunch table and I felt more comfortable than ever.
When the time came when my friends asked me why I left private school I would try to explain to them what I saw and the shallowness of it all. I tried to tell them how the people from this private school thought and how they acted. I tried to tell them ow what they have within them without knowing it is something so rich that can never be bought. I tried to put this all in a way that I, myself could even understand what I was really saying. The explanation I gave them was all over the place. I had no clue how to tell them. I explained it all so poorly I couldn’t blame them if they thought I just spoke a different language. But to my surprise they humbly nodded. They completely understood what I said although it was poorly described. They were happy that they found someone from somewhere else that understood the same thing and this is why I am the only whit kid on the soccer team.
Because I grew up in a really Irish household I was taught values, I was taught how to act, I was taught how to humble myself, I was taught pride of the Irish and I was taught how to relate to other deep cultures.
But above all, I was taught to see.
I was taught how to see through the facade society has up. I can see how other people act and why they do it. I can see how flawed the system is that we all fall subjected to as citizens of society. I can see who others are behind their act. I can see others who can see the same things.
But these people, these people who are worth so much, aren’t found everywhere. These people are always watching, always questioning, and always understand. They are so rare so when you do find someone that can truly see and understand, if ever, then you have to never lose their friendship.

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