URGENTTT! Can someone please revise my scholarship essay?

Describe how your experience as an immigrant or a child of immigrants has affected your life and how it will contribute to your future success

On the morning of May 3, 2001, my mother left my brother and I to come to the United States. My father left to Saudi Arabia before I was born. We were left in the care of a cousin whom we’ve never met. I remember being very quiet on our way to the airport. I could feel my mother holding back her tears as she held us the whole way there. I hated seeing her like that but I couldn’t help but feel angry. I had a hard time understanding why my parents left. Living with one parent for the first eight years of my life was hard enough, being away from the both of them took a toll on me. I reacted just like any other kids my age; I threw tantrums. It was like that for awhile until I got tired of crying, until I found a different way to release my anger.
Before my mother migrated to the United States she was a housewife. She took care of us and made sure we were focused in school. To my advantage I had an older brother; everything he learned, I had to learn. I remember knowing the whole multiplication table at the age of five and getting in trouble at school for writing in cursive at the age of six. We had to take tests at home and were not allowed to go out and play until we got everything right. There were often consequences if we made the same mistakes more than once. She made it clear that if we ever wanted our dreams to come true we had to work for it. Because of the time and effort she invested in us, I never fell below the top 3 in my class.
Math became my escape from reality after my mother left. She was the reason why I learned to appreciate it at such an early age. Whenever I missed her I would sit down and solve math problems, getting lost in the process. It just came to me. I felt like I didn’t have to think, like the numbers had a mind of their own. It was fascinating to see how one little problem could fill up a whole page. I worked hard to make her proud. I was one of the five students chosen to represent our school at a math and spelling bee competition. We didn’t win it was still an honor to be recognized locally. I received multiple medals and awards while my mother was gone. I knew even halfway across the world she was very proud of me.
One day while we were playing outside, a taxi pulled up right in front of our house. We lived in a poor neighborhood so everyone gathered around. The door opened and a man whom I’ve never met, my father, stepped out. It was not long until we saw his true side. He spent the money my mother sent us gambling. My brother and I had to learn to survive by ourselves. We made frequent trips to our cousin’s house for food and a place to stay whenever he got really drunk. With no one to guide us we were forced to grow up faster than we were supposed to.
Two months before my 11^th birthday, my dad, my brother, and I hopped on a plane to reunite with my mother in DC. I had this tough image but I was really scared that day. I was being taken away from everything I knew, my home and the people I loved. We were greeted by a rush of cold air as soon as we walked into the airport. It gave me goose bumps and for a second I actually thought of running back out. I continued walking and as I looked back at the people and environment which had been a part of my life I wondered when I will be able to see them again.
As soon as we got off the plane and took a whip of fresh air, I knew my life will never be the same again. What I was not prepared for was the hardships I went through the first few years I came into this country. My first day of school was a nightmare. It was bad enough that I didn’t know English but the lady in the office assumed I was Hispanic and spoke to me in Spanish. I just stared at her not knowing what to say. I was really embarrassed. She asked a student to take me to class. I was not scared of what my classmates were going to be like. My naïve mind thought that since we were kids they can’t be anymore different than I am. I was wrong.
The first few months were the most frightening. I was the new kid and everyone watched me closely. The way they stared and pointed made me anxious. What made the transition even more difficult was the fact that since I am darker than your average Asian, everyone assumed I was Hispanic. I probably would have been better off if I was. The language barrier made school a bit challenging and it certainly made it harder to make new friends. I was jealous of the other immigrants in my class because many could translate for them. I was so used to being the top student that I often got frustrated. I hated the feeling more than anything so I worked twice as hard to prove myself to everyone. In no time I was able to learn the language, make new friends and succeed in school.