User talk:Krishna bista

My Remarkable Day
There are many ways to start my essay. I could write about the days of tears, living for many years in a cramped hut in a miserable refugee camp. Or I could write about the bright days, the time when I was filled with hope, the joy of discovering that I would have a wonderful future. I believe I will write of the latter, for my future was changed as the result of one single unforgettable, unbelievable day.

I was born in the mountain kingdom of Bhutan, which is nestled above the northeast corner of giant India. When my parents divorced, I lived with my grandma and because of political problems, the government of Bhutan evicted us and forced us to move to Nepal. My parents remained in Bhutan. It was in the Nepali refugee camps that I began my education, sitting on the ground under a tree with many dozens of youngsters, reciting lessons written on a slate that was hung from a branch.

In 2004 at the age of 19, I completed my grade 10 examinations; it was time for me to start high school. I was happy to have made high marks, but it was a really difficult time because of my dire financial situation in the refugee camp. There was no financial support, loans or grants foreducation. I had no way to finance my education. I didn’t know what to do. No one was there to guide me. I was on my own.

One day, out of the blue, my dad sends me a letter from Bhutan. He says he will help pay for my education. Once I had the money also I had to find a high school. So I used part of the money I had to travel to India to live with my uncle, who said he could help me get in to a standard high school. I felt lucky that he allowed me to live in his house and help me find a school. I remember the day after I arrived in India, early in the morning we started out to visit different high schools. Some were very expensive, over seventy thousand rupees per year, and some were affordable, below twenty thousand. I was so happy all day long, imagining myself in a standard school, sitting on a real bench at a real desk and having a lot of new friends. “It will be a truly fine day,” I says to myself, “when I finally have a real life in a real school.”

But it was not to be. The admission process to get in to the school was quite difficult, and I was not granted admission. The admission test was conducted on a computer, and I had no experience with the computer because I had been in a refugee camp school, and refugee camp schools have no computers. I became really sad and depressed about the situation. I began to wonder if I could ever hope to secure a good education for myself.

So early in the morning of the next day, March 1st2004, I was planning to leave the beautiful city of Darjeeling India, the beautiful place of high mountains and tall buildings. I remember it was very cold. I was shivering at the bus stop waiting to go back to live with grandma in the refugee camp. It was a Sunday, and many people were going about either to church or to other destinations. I saw some catholic sisters standing nearby dressed in crisp white uniforms. One of them came near to me and said hi. I was not interested nor was I able to talk to anyone about anything. I just wanted to stand there and shiver and feel sorry for myself. But I managed to say hi to her also. She asked questions of me, but I did not really want to talk. I thought that I was supposed to be alone in this world and that there would never be one to help me.

“I am going home,” I announced. After that she told me she was the principle of St Alphonsus high school. So I told her my story. We talked for a long while; the bus came and went; we stood together there in the cold, two strangers united by a moment of grace. I cried as I released my disappointment; she also had tears in her eyes. “Follow me,” she said.

So I followed this remarkable woman as she led me to her residential area. She said: “Krishna, you will not be leaving this area, I will help you to get admission to the high school. But you must promise me that you will do well in school.” “Yes, yes, yes,” I declared. “I will do my best.” Then she gave me some money, and I joined the school. I was very happy, and impressed by her. I went back to my uncles’ house. I started school the next day.

​As I continue to face the difficulties and strugglesin life, I remember this saying of Mahatma Gandhi, “Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” Beginning with the remarkable day I met this remarkable sister, I had success in every school. The sister was quite happy with me, and I will never forget her nor will I ever forget My Remarkable Day. Krishna bista (talk) 08:15, 7 November 2015 (UTC)

My Refugee Education
​At age 5, in 1990, I left Bhutan with my uncle’s family and grandma. We were part of a mass exodus of culturally Nepali Bhutanese expelled by the King of Bhutan who wanted to create an ethnically pure society. For the next 18 years I lived in a community of countryless, landless, and hopeless refugees in a miserable camp in southeastern Nepal. Because of our race and our religion, we had been evicted from Bhutan, our property had been confiscated, and we were not allowed to return. Neither were we allowed to become permanent residents of either India or Nepal. Nobody wanted us. And as the child of divorced parents living with relatives in a traditional culture, I felt nobody wanted me. This is the starting point of my education as a refugee.

​For the thousands of young people attending overcrowded, makeshift camp schools, the future was not very bright. Yet I remember that I was so terrifically happy to start kindergarten, to start learning, I couldn’t sleep at all the night before school began.

​I am in a class with over one hundred students and one teacher. The first day of school: teacher requires each student to stand and tell his name and the names of his parents. My turn comes and I tell them my name. I explain that because my parents are divorced and live back in the old country, not as refugees but as citizens of Bhutan, that because I live now with my old grandma, I cannot tell their names. The children, even my so-called friends, shout and jeer. I cry. I am ashamed and confused. The very first day of school. Who could have known that my long and convoluted educational journey would begin in such a perplexing swirl of tumult and disgrace?

​Yet I persist. Student life is miserable in the camps. The teachers are sincere but poorly educated themselves. Materials are in short supply: I get one pencil per year and all other materials are shrewdly rationed among classmates. There are no group discussions; grouptalk is impractical because each class averages 105 students. Classrooms are a cobbled mélange of bamboo and thatch; when it rains the roof merely strains the water; the lessons learned during rainy season are that of courage while shivering, of maintaining concentration during the constant sound of dripping water, or writing legibly on wet paper. I remember thinking once that God had created refugees because He took delight in their misery.

​Now I am in third grade. I fail. I have to repeat all of my lessons. There is no more melancholy moment in my life. I am dispirited for days. My wise aunt encourages me by saying, “One mistake is not a mistake, but repeated mistake is a great mistake.” After this event I pull up my head and since then have never known academic defeat. My greatest learning came at age eight: success comes not in a single grandiose encounter but is one long hard struggle accomplished a step at a time.

​Now I am in seventh grade. I get a score of 98 in the math finals; my friend gets a 99; we have the two highest scores in the class. The teacher asks him to solve the question from the test and explain it on the black board. He is not able to do it; the teacher asks me to do it; I proudly do it, and I do it correctly. My friend, confounded and disgraced, criticizes my result in front of the entire class and asks me again to prove it. Before class we are friends; after class we are enemies. I am inflamed by his disloyalty and we scuffle. I kick him and he limps away. After this we never talk again.

​Three years later this boy dies by his own hand, a victim of suicide. Remembering this even now fills me with great sorrow. What I have learnt is that life can be difficult even for those who have a score higher than mine. I have to be humble during my success journey, for if I am not, even my sincere efforts will be opposed.

​So I have continued on in school and in life and have found success in everything I do. In spite of or maybe because of the fact that we had no electricity and therefore I saw no television, movies, internet or video games during the bleak and contemptible refugee camp grade school years, still I received the foundation of courage, perseverance and honor that has made me thirst for continual knowledge, continual education, continual wisdom.

​I am grateful now for many things, not the least of which is that the US has invited and paid for my extended family and me to resettle in Grand Rapids and has permitted me to continue my education here. I now know that God does not create refugees; He creates men. Men create refugees, and God allows it not because He delights in their misery, but because He delights in their rescue. Krishna bista (talk) 08:19, 7 November 2015 (UTC)

Krishna Bista
Krishna Bista bistakrishna2009@gmail.com ___________________________________________________________________________ OBJECTIVE To obtain a position in an Interpreter field where I can utilize my skills to help others and make a positive contribution to the organization and its mission EDUCATION: Grand Rapids Community College AA for Mathematics Education Grand Rapids, MI 2006 - 2008 Carmel Teacher’s Training Institute Teacher’s certificate Pakyong, Sikkim, India 2004-2006 St. Alphonsus High School Kurseong, Darjeeling, India 1994-2004 Marigold Academy (grade school) Damak, Jhapa, Nepal EMPLOYMENT: Sep 2010 - Present: Assistant Teacher KENT ISD - Kentwood, MI Hamilton Early Childhood Center Work with pre-school kids​ Sep 2011 – Present Liaison linguistics Interpreter for more than three years Areas covered are schools, hospitals, and home visits, and Phone call. Completed a three month interpreter training provided by Spectrum Health May 2012 – Present ALC Interpreter Interpreter for more than two years Areas covered are schools, hospitals, and home visits June 2012 – Present Interpreter network Interpreter for more than two years Areas covered are schools, hospitals, and home visits Oct 2013 – Present Voices for health Interpreter for more than one years Areas covered are schools, hospitals, and home visits Sep 2009 - Present: Activity Leader Kentwood Public Schools - Kentwood, MI Bowen Elementary school Organized and supervised after-school program for elementary students Aug 2010 – Present: Child Care Assistance Working with kids; helping them learn and engage in school activities Aug 2009 - 2010: Cashier Meijer - Kentwood, MI Checked groceries and provided assistance to customers May 2009 – 2010 Mazda company Worked as a packer and machine operator May - Sep 2008: Program Coordinator/Teacher The Elite School - Illam, Nepal Organized and engaged students in educational activities; counselor for children and parents Coordinated and trained a team of adult volunteer teachers 2004 - 2008: Teacher/Activity Coordinator Bhutanese Refugee Camp – Damak, Nepal Taught economics and mathematics to 9th and 10th grade students 2000 - 2003: Class Coordinator Bhutanese Refugee Camp – Damak, Nepal Coordinated art class for grades 1 - 10 1997 - 2000: Program Coordinator Bhutanese refugee camp – Damak, Nepal Organized extracurricular activities for teenagers SKILLS: • Fluent in English, Nepali and Hindi • Cooperative team member • Have experience in cross cultural interaction • Experience in customer service • Hard working • Outgoing • Good with computer applications such as Microsoft Word, PowerPoint, Excel etc. • Interpreting experience • Experience in teaching ​ Krishna bista (talk) 08:29, 7 November 2015 (UTC)