While reading Amy Tan’s essay about her experience with writing and language growing up, I felt her frustration about how the American education system failed her to some extent. As a fellow immigrant that had to come to this country when I was nine, I have also acted like my mother when making phone calls and had the awkward experience of screaming at someone on the phone because my mom wants me to scream at them. When I was younger and still learning English I remember the kids making fun of my English, and at the time, the thick accent I had whenever I spoke. At home, I also spoke a form of “broken” English that we refer to as Spanglish and there were even instances where I would come to school and not knowing the word for a specific item would say it in Spanish, the kids looking at me not even attempting to guess what I was trying to say or decipher my hand movements.  Due to that, I started developing a passion for reading that not only helped me learn English faster but also is one of the many reasons why I can write cohesive sentences. It started out because I did not want to talk to the other kids and used reading as my coping mechanism. If I had my nose in a book, no one would come up to me and I could read in silence, undisturbed and not having to utter a single word. However, as my English got better and my accent slowly disappeared, I started realizing how much nicer everyone was.  An example of this in the text is when her mother is trying to get her CAT scan, in fear that she also had a tumor like her relatives, but the doctors refused. This specific section made me feel a specific kind of rage. This is because, before my mom was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago, I was going to the doctor’s visits with her, making appointments, and just being there for support but most importantly so I could be a translator. After multiple tests, we were referred to a specialist but I was late due to getting out of school later than I expected. When I arrived my mom explained to me that they were refusing to check the area she had told them she felt a lump. They did this under the pretense that they had felt and seen nothing but my mom refused to leave until they inspected it more carefully, she knew something was there. As soon as I started speaking perfect English and was clearly very upset as to why they would refuse to check again, I saw their faces change. One of them even adjusted their seating position and leaned in closer. An hour later lo and behold they had found it, hidden under her tissue, my mom had cancer, very early stages, but nonetheless was there. This frustrated me because what if I couldn’t make it, would they had sent her home, only for it to progress. Thankfully, my mom had a successful mastectomy and chemo without having to do radiation and is still making me scream at people through the phone.