My uncle left Poland in a boat, and the only teacher who has changed my life left

Venezuela in a plane.
It was this teacher who first presented me with the framework of the American Dream; at
the time, I could nod my head along and say, yes, thats how it supposed to go. However, Ive
come to realize that America is still advertising itself with Rosie the Riveter and Uncle Sam, as if
it is the only country in the world that offers opportunity. At the surface, this dream is attainable,
logical even, but only if youre looking through the scope of the 1950s.
I struggle with the idea that people still flock here in trains, and planes, and cars because
really, the American Dream, like history, is a personalized experience. When I think about
immigrants, I think about the Syrian refugees clinging to their plastic boats, only to find out that
their new life is still out of financial reach. Think 1950s southern former slaves, think Chinese
immigrants building the Transatlantic Railroad; these are the people that I want to examine, to
humanize. My characters are a vehicle to explore the larger problems associated with American
exceptionalism and the fact that murders go unexamined by the media, the public, and that we
refuse to call ISIS what it is: Daesh, that the follies of the American Dream tend to go ignored,
or under the radar, and most importantly, that they often reflect the problems that society as a
whole refuses to handle.