ESL Playgroup

Tziporah and I have a new project.  We go on Thursdays to a playgroup at the Sunnyvale Community Center where the Asian Association of Utah gives English classes.  I get to teach and play with the children of the students all morning.

This all came about because of the refugee crisis worldwide.  I had a strong desire to cast my vote for humanity and compassion, but I can't very well travel to the island of Lesbos and scoop drowning Syrians out of the Mediterranean, as much as you all know I would love to.

Instead, I went with the "bloom where you're planted" notion, and our whole family checked out a "refugee fair," where all the aid organizations in Utah presented information on what help is needed.  We watched a short documentary in which a Nepalese man told his immigrant story.  He said that many immigrants to this country go years without having a single friend who is "from here."  I can do something about that.  Why shouldn't I go out of my comfort zone?

So every Thursday, Tizzy gets to practice sharing and helping babies, while she brushes up on her Farsi.  All the kids are from Afghanistan, although the adults in the classes are from all over.  Colombia, Congo, Malaysia, etc.  We usually have four little boys, one little two-year-old girl and two baby boys.  They're all absolutely beautiful, with bright eyes and impish smiles.  I look into their fresh faces and wonder what their future holds, as children of immigrants.

Their mothers are the ones taking the English classes.  Most are friendly, some are weary and wary.  I can only imagine the tragic circumstances that brought them here.  At the break time, I try to talk to them, as difficult as it is.  Last week, I visited with two African women in full Congolese regalia.  They each have a dozen children!  We established that their children are all in school, and too old for the daycare.  When we all left, one of these women gave me a warm hug.  This is the kind of interaction I was hoping for, to break down cultural barriers in tiny increments.

A couple of months ago, I was in a Middle Eastern grocery to get some spices.  The kid at the counter, a young, hip, handsome college guy, gave me a wry smile.  He said, "Are you...?"  He wanted me to fill in the blank as to why I was there.  He wanted my provenance.  I found myself on the verge of saying something like, "I'm just white," or "I'm just regular," even though I know darn well that there is no "default" ethnicity.  It even crossed my mind to say, "I'm just American," as if "American" was an ethnicity, and that I represented that ethnicity.  The hubris!  In my defense, I'm not often called upon to state my heritage, and I admit, I didn't have an answer ready. I ended up saying, "I'm Caucasian.  I'm from here, from Utah."  The kid smiled and said, "Do you usually shop at Middle Eastern grocery stores?"

Suddenly I was in a position of explaining my presence, which, as part of the ethnic, religious and cultural majority here in Utah, is a position I am rarely, if ever, in.  I liked how it made me think about who I am in the larger context.  I liked that this kid was calling me out, so to speak.  Asking me who I was, rather than assuming - and letting me assume - that I was "just" one of the majority.

I told this kid at the store that I was looking for good spices, that I usually find them at Sinbad's on State Street, but I saw his new store and stopped in.  He told me they have plans to open a gyro stand, and I promised I'd be back.

In the meantime, I get to teach and learn from the smallest and newest citizens of this country.  Little Yursef, Muhammed, Ramish and Modesei are pioneers, just like my ancestors.  They're blazing a trail in a foreign land. A trail of cookie crumbs and legos at this point, but a trail.  They're the intrepid souls that will bring their parents into this new culture, not the other way around.  Children learn faster.  That's why those rambunctious, Farsi-speaking, soccer-playing boys didn't bat an eye when a timid little white girl with strawberry-blonde braids joined their ranks.  Tziporah will be speaking Farsi in no time.  She'll integrate just fine.