My Life Story

I would start by saying that I was born in Milan, Italy. I lived there for about 11 years, and did the same things every day. From school, to dance classes. I never got out of Milan, and used to hang out always around the corner, in the park, not alone of course, Milan is a dangerous city. I never got out of my world and did the same routine every day, saw the same people and did the same things, but never got tired of it. I actually loved my life.

Because of my troublesome brother, my family had to leave Milan because no school would accept him, so we moved out to the country side. I didn’t realize it first, but life there was horrible now that I think about it. I couldn’t leave my house without a car, everywhere I had to go, my dad had to drive me. There was this one bus, but at my age it wasn’t safe at all.
Life in the country side was kind of the same too, every day was planned, from school to dance lessons to karate. Even saturday night was planned I either stayed at home watching a movie, or went to this one specific cinema with my friends.
Not even after a year my mother sent my brother to a boarding school in France near Paris. So we were now stucked in the country side world.
People were different there, they had this “Bresciano” accent who was the city near by, and to tell you the truth, it’s the worst accent you would ever hear in your life.
Somehow during my second year in the new school I went, I started hating people in my class and think that they were so annoying that I really couldn’t stand them. It was mostly because of what I called “racism”. I haven’t got any Italian blood, to tell you the truth my mother is originally from Moscow, Russia, and my dad is from Tbilisi, Georgia. They came in Italy 25 years ago I was born there and have italian nationality and passport, but I guess that wasn’t enough to the italian kids. They used to call me the “Russian girl” ; “The immigrant”, and whenever I had to read in class there was always someone who had to repeat what I said and pretending to correct my words, even if they were perfectly pronounced.
I used to get really mad, but I was used to it, since 3rd grade, that’s when I got my new teacher who actually hated me a lot. She hated the fact that at my young age I would speak fluently two languages, and was first in the English class. Whenever I got an “A” she would come and tell me that that wasn’t possible, and would changed it for a “B”, I never realized why she did that until I grew older. She was actually jealous of everything I had, from my fantastic vacations, a great life, and the fact that I wasn’t even a spoiled kid, I was actually the one who would never make the first move, who staid in the corner of the class because of her shyness, and the one who never talks. And even nowadays I can’t understand why was she like this to me, to an defensive kid like me.
Anyways as I was saying, in the middle of 7th grade I hated so much my classmates that a day while I was talking to my mom, we came to the idea to move back in a city, but this time it wasn’t Milan, but Paris.
I was so young I didn’t even think about it and screamed, “Yes!”. And that’s when my mother started planning until the end of the year, where I started regretting of what I have said.
It was the perfect life I had. I made new friends, resolved problems with some of them, and the most exiting part is that one of the 8th grade good looking guys was “hitting on me”.
I had so the perfect “first” boyfriend, the perfect friends, everything was perfect and soon destroyed.
As soon as the school year endend I would spend my days crying, and wanted my life back.
I arrived in Paris in late August. And that’s when my life completely changed.
Since I didn’t know how to speak French my mom chose me a school who had a special class that would have taught me proper French. It wasn’t a public school, but since it was a really a cheap private school, it looked more like a public one.
I was shocked by what I have seen, the people were all different, from skin color to religion. I felt for the first time as not the only stranger, I felt like at home. People wouldn’t judge me, they wouldn’t care what my origins were because they were all from different counties around the world. Those are public schools in Paris.
The first year in Paris I would still think about the great years I had in Italy, and wanted to move back there, but as soon as I started meeting new people and making new friends this thought ran away.
This school changed completely my point of viewing things, I started learning more and more about other cultures and by only staying in Paris you can learn so many things, and I will thank this great school to have let me do this, and let me feel at home.
Later on I changed school again and went to a private and strict school. I still would’ve remembered the “public” school I was in. I would not judge someone for what their country or religion.
Changing school’s let me learn to grow stronger, and from a shy girl I became an extrovercial teenager. I learn things every day. It was a long road, but I want to thank my mom to let me view all this different cities, and to finally bring me in Paris, a beautiful city that I appreciate to the fullest extent and beyond.

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