I was in the backseat of our crusty old grey Toyota minivan. I was crying a waterfall while my mom tried her very best to ease my worries. 

I was headed to preschool.

It was my first day of preschool, and I had no idea what to expect. I had only ever been around Korean people at church.

I was terrified. I kept crying stormily, and negative thoughts bombarded my mind.

Will I be able to make friends?

What is school like?

What will everyone think of me? 

And sure enough, my questions were answered within the first few days. I felt like Daniel in the Lions' Den.

It also didn't help that I only ever learned Korean, so I couldn't speak English at all. My go-to phrase was "Sorry, no English."

I was never able to make any friends in preschool. My first year of school was a failure, and my days were filled with loneliness.

Then, in kindergarten, I was placed in an ESL class where I met a couple of kids who were like me but also not. They were Spanish.

Hola, ummmm. What your name is? Me Ethan.

Me llamo Santiago.

Dustin my name is.

However, despite the language barrier, we got along very well. It was like we formed our very own version of Chinatown, where we could shamelessly represent ourselves.

ESL TOWN

I finally found people I could relate to, which gave me confidence to make friends outside of ESL. And so the hunt began.

I roamed around the tight, narrow hallways of Guth Elementary School to find my first victim. Finally, I mustered up all my strength and made a valiant effort to start a conversation.

Sure, I would love to. I noticed you don't talk much in class, so I was curious about you. Let's be good friends.

Hey, I noticed you are in my class. Do you want to be friends?

Surprisingly, everything went smoothly. Over time, we grew closer and closer, and he even introduced me to his friends.

Hey guys, this is Ethan. He may be a bit interesting, but he's a pretty fun guy.

Yo, what's up man?

Wanna be friends?

Let's hang out sometime.

Before I even became aware of it, I was fitting in with everyone else. We were all different in our own way, yet I truly felt like I belonged.

That was until I had to transfer schools. With that, I had to depart with tears streaming down my face and joyous memories behind me. I was back to square one.

As it would turn out, I was met with a path of piercing, sharp nails that seemed to stretch out forever. This was not going to be a walk in the park.

I was finally at the age where kids found joy in being mean. It was almost as if they envisioned themselves as ginormous brutes of pure muscle. They indeed were nothing like that.

Do you see these muscles pal?! Don't act up against me you little Asian brat!

Where are these muscles you speak of?

Like when I was asked various questions about my appearance. Did these kids think I wished to look like this? Since when could I control how I looked?

Why do you look like that? Your eyes are so small. Can you even see?

Oh, my bad. Let me just go back in time and be born white.

Or that one time I brought in Korean food for lunch and got absolutely railed about how it smelled like the bottom of a pungent sewer.

You guys are so uncultured. This is the good stuff.

Ewwwwww. What is that? Rat food?

That stinks. Go eat it outside.