Last night during the evening section, our class discussed our Winter Break reading assignment, The Middle of Everywhere by Mary Pipher. I love the topic of immigration because it is something that is close to my heart, so I was really excited to read the book and discuss it. From what I had heard, not everyone had the same enthusiasm that I did, but that definitely did not change our discussion last night. Everyone was so excited to share their stories and opinions! In fact, some times I found it hard to respond to the questions because there were so many good ideas bouncing around the room.
Last January, I wanted to improve my Spanish ability so that I could do well on the AP test. I contacted a community center in my town, which just happens to have a Hispanic Outreach program (the largest in Central IL, but I guess that's not saying too much). I was going to just tutor a kid who had a few problems with language comprehension, but that soon changed. The kid stopped coming to the center, so the woman I had contacted told me I could stay and help her around the office. Soon, not only was I making copies and teaching her how to use the computer (just like our discussion of how we all have to teach adults about technology!), I was translating documents, taking phone calls, helping clients, and even interpreted for a child's speech therapy appointment. I also started babysitting for a group that met on Friday nights, the Latina Women Support Group.
I helped coordinate a summer camp this past summer for Latino junior high kids as well. Throughout all these experiences, I met many remarkable people, especially the coordinators, all of which were first- or second-generation immigrants. I don't know a lot of their stories, but I do know that the woman I worked for moved to the U.S. from Mexico at the age of 17, and sometimes she still gets prepositions mixed up and I have to help her. The other woman I work with a lot is from Colombia, and she had to move here and completely restart her education because it was not valid in the United States. I know kids like the ones in the book, who were pulled out of activities to go translate for family members. I know kids who moved from Mexico in the last three years, and they had never been to Chicago until this past summer (for people in my area, Chicago is only 2 hours away, so it's a frequent day or weekend trip. I think I have been there a few thousand times, except it's probably a little less than that.)
Coming from a small, conservative, generally Caucasian town in the middle of a cornfield (my high school really was in the middle of a cornfield!), I was around a lot of people who had the same opinions. We had signs around town that said "racism--not in OUR town" but I still felt that the reason we weren't racist was because there weren't many minorities to be racist toward. I did hear some stories, however, of racism--not necessarily toward African-Americans, but toward the Latinos with whom I worked.
Although I myself have not had any experiences like those in the book, it was interesting to see that it wasn't just people at the center who had ones like them. It was so mind-boggling to hear that some of my classmates had similar experiences or knew people who had gone through them. Generally, when I talk to my best friend from high school about my volunteer experience at the community center, she acts interested, but I know that she doesn't truly understand or really care too much. Unfortunately, her opinion is much like that of the rest of my high school classmates'. It was really refreshing to hear my Honors classmates discuss the book and compare it to their experiences or experiences of people they knew. I guess my mindset has changed a little in that I now have hope.
Last January, I wanted to improve my Spanish ability so that I could do well on the AP test. I contacted a community center in my town, which just happens to have a Hispanic Outreach program (the largest in Central IL, but I guess that's not saying too much). I was going to just tutor a kid who had a few problems with language comprehension, but that soon changed. The kid stopped coming to the center, so the woman I had contacted told me I could stay and help her around the office. Soon, not only was I making copies and teaching her how to use the computer (just like our discussion of how we all have to teach adults about technology!), I was translating documents, taking phone calls, helping clients, and even interpreted for a child's speech therapy appointment. I also started babysitting for a group that met on Friday nights, the Latina Women Support Group.
I helped coordinate a summer camp this past summer for Latino junior high kids as well. Throughout all these experiences, I met many remarkable people, especially the coordinators, all of which were first- or second-generation immigrants. I don't know a lot of their stories, but I do know that the woman I worked for moved to the U.S. from Mexico at the age of 17, and sometimes she still gets prepositions mixed up and I have to help her. The other woman I work with a lot is from Colombia, and she had to move here and completely restart her education because it was not valid in the United States. I know kids like the ones in the book, who were pulled out of activities to go translate for family members. I know kids who moved from Mexico in the last three years, and they had never been to Chicago until this past summer (for people in my area, Chicago is only 2 hours away, so it's a frequent day or weekend trip. I think I have been there a few thousand times, except it's probably a little less than that.)
Coming from a small, conservative, generally Caucasian town in the middle of a cornfield (my high school really was in the middle of a cornfield!), I was around a lot of people who had the same opinions. We had signs around town that said "racism--not in OUR town" but I still felt that the reason we weren't racist was because there weren't many minorities to be racist toward. I did hear some stories, however, of racism--not necessarily toward African-Americans, but toward the Latinos with whom I worked.
Although I myself have not had any experiences like those in the book, it was interesting to see that it wasn't just people at the center who had ones like them. It was so mind-boggling to hear that some of my classmates had similar experiences or knew people who had gone through them. Generally, when I talk to my best friend from high school about my volunteer experience at the community center, she acts interested, but I know that she doesn't truly understand or really care too much. Unfortunately, her opinion is much like that of the rest of my high school classmates'. It was really refreshing to hear my Honors classmates discuss the book and compare it to their experiences or experiences of people they knew. I guess my mindset has changed a little in that I now have hope.