Getting Out

Once a week I leave my family for a few hours and sit in a room in a "manufactured home community" with a group of women that are becoming my friends.

This time is precious to me, not just because it gives me an hour of quiet while I drive 30 minutes each way, but because I feel like I'm accomplishing something while I'm there.

The majority of the women in the room with me don't speak English as their native language. I don't know the status of their residency here or what type of documentation they do or don't have. That isn't why I'm there. I'm teaching English. I'm sharing stories, listening to dreams, answering questions and I'm developing relationships. I'm sitting with women who are mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters far away from all that is familiar. I'm helping them navigate grocery shopping, parent-teacher conferences, doctor's offices, and job applications. I'm laughing at things that amuse us all and feeling concern for issues that can't easily be remedied.

I know that it is frustrating to want to communicate something that you simply don't have the words for. I know the vulnerability of living in a place with a culture very different from the one you've always known. I know the imbalance and struggle of wanting your children to be more fluent than yourself, but trying not to depend on their fluency and become complacent in your own attempts to learn a new language.

When I hear people complaining about immigrants and how "they need to learn English if they want to live here" I have a few questions I want to ask:

1-Will you help teach one person English?
2-Do you speak another language fluently?
3-Have you ever loved someone who didn't speak the same language as you?

If you're able to answer "yes" to any of the above questions, I'm willing to continue discussing this issue with you. If your answer to all three questions is, "no" then we should probably change the subject.