Sunnyvale

It would be so overwhelming to describe my experience at the ESL program, I don't know where to start.  I began volunteering with the Refugee and Immigrant Center, or the Asian Association of Utah, in January.  They put me with the kids whose parents are in the ESL program.  I was scared that I wouldn't like it and that it would be pure drudgery, entertaining a handful of Farsi-speaking preschoolers for 3 hours every Thursday.  But I wanted to be there, and to glimpse the life these recent immigrants are trying to carve out in their new country.

Surprisingly, I loved it.  Out of the blue, I suddenly found myself emailing the director, asking for a job as the interim preschool teacher, a position I had decided they should create for me.  They did.  It was actually the perfect timing and the perfect offer, as the program is expanding and they will need a more structured preschool setting, rather than just child care provided by volunteers.

I jumped in with both feet, the day after spring break.  I would be teaching 6 kids and one baby, including Tizzy, from 9:30 to noon every day.  On day one, I was introduced as "Circe, our new interim preschool teacher.  She will be developing the curriculum for our program for next year."  I smiled as I thought with alarm, "I will?!  I am?!"  So that's what I'm doing.  It's fun and not nearly as scary as I thought, and I have discovered that I can do something I never in a million years thought I could do: teach preschool.

Each day, Tizzy and I go and do our thing.  Tizzy has become much more outgoing and confident.  She told Scott that "My friend Yasser thinks it's funny when I make faces.  But we don't speak the same language."  Tizzy likes to pretend she speaks Farsi, when she gets tired of speaking "regularish."  The kids we have are: one 12month-old baby, one kindergarten boy, three 4-year-old preschool boys, one three-year-old girl, Tizzy, and one 4-year-old girl who is as timid and jumpy as a gazelle.  She is a beautiful child from Burma whose mother wears a full burka, face covered and everything. Despite the extreme language and cultural barriers, we have become friends of sorts.  They let me drive them home each day.  It's the most awkward and rewarding ten minutes of my day.

The other thing I love about preschool is "break time."  When I first started going to volunteer, the adults would take a break from English class and wander into the kitchen, where there was no food.  There might be a weak pot of coffee, or a couple of tea bags.  Maybe a stray box of crackers.  I would sit on the floor with the kids and stare into the kitchen, where the adults congregated in uneasy silence.  I would imagine my mother-in-law bringing in pans of brownies, lasagne, cornbread.  I would envision my mom laden with grocery bags full of fresh fruit.  I would think about our moms and other women in my life, and how much they would love to provide nourishment for these people, who are hungry in every way.  I would imagine these scenarios of plenty to distract me from the reality of the bare kitchen, which was fine, but which made me sad.

So when I started to job of full-time teacher, I just mentioned on Facebook that if anyone wanted to donate food to this snack time cause, that would be a good way to help.  It was the very same day that the LDS church broadcast General Conference, which included a request that people be mindful of and helpful towards the refugees, with this crisis in Syria impacting Europe so heavily.  Everyone was fired up to help, and I have had many generous friends donate food to make snack time happier.  It had made a big difference.  At 10:30 each morning, the kitchen is a happening place.  I help the children prepares something simple that the adults can enjoy, and I praise the kids for doing so.  The adults now have an expectation that there will be something for them, and it makes everyone just a little more friendly and a little more conversational. 

Food is a powerful force, not just for nourishment, but for community.  The best day we had, I think, was a rainy day when I took a crock pot of soup.  I let the kids each add a cup of ingredients and let it cook.  Everyone loved it when we had hot soup and bread.  We did chocolate-covered strawberries one day, whipped cream one day, to eat with fruit.  We cut up oranges and bananas and apples.  I buy day-old loaves of breads at Smith's.  It's so satisfying to provide these snacks, I have to be careful that I don't spend a fortune or get carried away.  I've been grateful for the donations that have enabled me to bring joy to Sunnyvale Community Center.  It's been humbling for me to watch.

Look at that, I was going to be brief.  I have stories to tell about my new friends and experiences.  The learning curve is steep, and I've grown every day.  I thought eight weeks might seem like an eternity, but I'm on week three and it's flying by too quickly.  I have so little time left to get all these kids ready for kindergarten, and so much work left to do.  They will all go into the public school system with limited English proficiency, little cultural fluency, and nobody by their side who understands how truly remarkable, how infinitely precious, how smart and strong and resilient they really are.  We at Sunnyvale have to bulk them up with as much love and learning as they can possibly hold, so that maybe, just maybe, someone in kindergarten will recognize a spark within them and see beyond what they lack, and know that they are brimming with hope and possibility.