Dear diary,
I don't think anyone can even begin to understand the struggle that I'm facing, since I moved to America. From my home I learned maths and scientific studies. I learned history and culture and the arts.
From America, I learned that I am stupid.
People seem to associate language with intellect here. And because of that, I am seen as dull, and unable to comprehend. In the ninth year of my schooling, I was sitting in a maths class, with a wretched professor explaining every detail to me in very slow wording. After the first few words, I understood that I had already learned this subject. I tried to tell him that in my broken English, but he simply ignored me. So I endured. Years I endured while I learned more and more English. Even having a doctorate wasn't good enough for those who would look down on me. I could give as many speeches about neuroscience, or astrophysics as I pleased. There would always be someone to look at me as if I didn't understand.
There was one professor who made an effort to understand me. I had taken a quiz in my own language on the first day of school. She had told me that I didn't need to take it, because I didn't know the material. But I had learned it in my home country, so I took it as best as I could. After receiving it back with extraordinary marks, I found myself filled with glee. Someone had taken the time to understand me for the first time since moving to America.
But her help was fleeting as the essays became longer, and my lack of English knowledge grew more obvious.
I wish I had gone to school in my own country.
This is absolute hell.
