Day 20: What they brought me . . .

Today's task is to write about justice in a way that stirs the heart.

When Vanessa entered my classroom the first time, her face was completely blank. The look in her eyes told the world she was doing everything she could to bat away reality. She and her family had recently moved to the United States from Mexico. She would not make eye contact, she could not communicate, and she could not process any of the information that was being presented to her. On that first day and many days that followed, my heart broke for her as I tried to imagine what it must have been like to sit in her skin and watch a world from which she felt completely separate spinning around her. I wished desperately that I had taken my Spanish classes more seriously. I tried to fumble through the few Spanish terms I could remember, but my pronunciation was sketchy, and she was in no position to problem solve for me. Though the teachers on our staff would unite to teach Vanessa and her siblings English, I spent much of that year feeling ill-equipped to truly help. The yearning to help burned so fiercely within me that I decided to pursue my Master’s degree in Teaching English as a Second Language the following year. This decision has crossed my path with people who have changed my life and have accepted me so openly. Who knew that this seventh-grade girl who felt so out of place would help me to find a place that felt like home and a group of people who felt like my family?

Fast forward to 2011. I am in Washington state, and I have decided to take a year off from teaching and see what happens. I end up landing a job at Starbucks, but I am feeling I need to find another place where I can be of use. Maybe I can find a volunteer position somewhere. A quick Internet search leads me to The Family Learning Center, and interestingly enough, this organization meets in an apartment, which is in an apartment complex about half a mile from my house, and they work with a population of refugees from Somalia and Myanmar (Burma). I email my resume to the woman who is listed as the contact person and we decided to meet after I observe one of her classes. After the meeting, she agrees to let me teach one class and see how it goes. After I teach the class, we discuss how I can be helpful.

Before I had worked with this population, I’m not sure I could have explained much about refugees. Wikipedia defines the term, saying, “A refugee, generally speaking, is a displaced person who has been forced to cross national boundaries and who cannot return home safely.” To attain this label in the United States, asylum-seekers must complete a 20-step vetting process. Over the last year, there has been some debate about whether refugees from certain locations should be welcomed into our country because of what they may bring along with them.

I can only speak from my experience, but I would like to share what the refugees I worked with in Washington brought to me—

1. They brought hours and hours of reading books with kids who ranged in age from kindergarten to high school. It was sticky pages and sweaty summer and a chart on the wall with gold stickers to document that these kids were reading enough to earn a trip to an amusement park at the end of the summer.

2. They brought me a group of high school-aged Somali girls with sparkly jeans and basketball shoes under their robes who arrived at Apartment B-5 for a jewelry-making class with a woman from a local church. It was giggles and creativity and bright colors and, “Thank you. Can we do this again?”

3. They brought me to the middle of the living room floor of my dear friend’s apartment, staring over stacks of mail for anyone who needed an explanation. Junk mail can be hard to discern and can be hard to explain.

4. They brought me a group of women sitting around a table, keeping their children entertained with snacks and books and crayons and embarking on the reading of a novel with me. And though it was confusing and difficult, we finished the novel, For One More Day by Mitch Albom, and we felt like conquerors.

5. They brought me colorful hijabs blowing in the wind and laughter floating through the air as we raced around the roller coasters at the amusement park at the end of the summer because they met their reading goals.

These are people who have weathered great storms. Some of them took cover under their kitchen tables on their first Fourth of July in the USA because they recognized the sound of bombs ringing through the sky. These are people whose feet bear the callouses of walking miles and miles to seek refuge, and these are people who have passed the vetting process, and have earned the right to call the United States their home. We have so much to learn from them. I know there are a great deal of political points to be made about whether the United States should allow refugees within its borders. I don’t really care about any of the political arguments. I care about these people finding a place to feel safe in this world. I care about parents feeling confident to use English to discuss the progress of their children with their teachers. I care about kids getting to feel like kids because they feel safe and free in our country. I care about helping the little girls like Vanessa find their voices, so they can breathe life into their own stories of strength. I care about greeting them with open arms, welcoming them to their new homes, and walking alongside them as they figure out life in the United States.