The English Tutor & The Immigrant
She sits across from me, pencil in one hand, iPhone in the other. Hope is in the air, and Google Translate tells me she’s nervous but happy to be here. I offer a prayer of thanks to the amazing Google Translate, which converts her native Spanish into my native English.
We sit at my kitchen table and get to know one another. I, the tutor, of a certain age. She, a 20-something student eager to learn. The English Language lingers between us, like a prize she might walk away with after the lesson.
I think about this. The monumental task of learning an entire new language. It seems so elusive, so intricate, yet so essential. And here she is, learning from a complete stranger. I don’t know a stitch of Spanish, and I can’t help but wonder how long it would take me to learn an entire new language. At my age? Probably a lifetime. Teresa, she’s only 23, so time is on her side. But, not really. In today’s climate, who knows what could happen? There are hundreds of thousands just like her across the country. But once we adopt the mindset ‘you’ve seen one immigrant, you’ve seen them all,’ that’s when real trouble starts.
Teresa isn’t every other immigrant; she’s unique and special, just like every other person on this planet. We seem to forget that we humans are similar creatures despite our cultural differences. When it comes down to it, we’re all chasing the same thing. It’s summed up in what most Americans take for granted. The Declaration of Independence says it best with its line about the pursuit of happiness. That’s it, in a nutshell. And while in this pursuit, we also seek safety, shelter, food, relationships, health, and, if we’re lucky, purpose. It’s all of these things together that make up happiness, and explain why its pursuit defines every human lifetime.
It’s been 6 months since that first day tutoring Teresa. Since that time, I’ve come to know, respect, and care about her. After all, my own children are close to her same age, and I see a little of them when she giggles about mispronouncing a word. One day, in broken English, Teresa tells me she wants more from life than to be a housecleaner. She wants to contribute and work at a job she enjoys. She wants to be a licensed Cosmetologist. She wants to become a US citizen, an American. She wants green eyes. I tell her Van Morrison says she’s my Brown Eyed Girl. I play her the song, and I see smile lines crinkle around eyes she wishes were a different color. We sing together—laughing, skipping, and jumping. I can see she’s happy. I can tell she’s dreaming.
So, the question becomes, will I help her pursue her dream? She has two choices, and neither is desirable. Stay in a country where she is illegal and unwanted, but still has opportunity. Or, go back home, where there isn’t much to go home to. Which would you pick if put in the same circumstance? Both offer promise, both carry consequence.
I didn’t sign up for the unsolvable problem, this heartbreak. But here I am, a volunteer tutor, with my immigrant student. Whose name isn’t really Teresa, she recently confides, along with some other details. But, no matter that, because she’s learning. I’m learning too. It’s the most beautiful thing when two people trust each other enough to be vulnerable, share their truth, and know they are safe doing it.
I certainly don’t have anything close to all the answers to her questions. Especially the important ones about paths to citizenship, and safe refuge. So we research this together and I try my best give her the facts, the truth. And I continue to teach the English language. A language that, to her and to others like her, is more than letters and words. It embodies hope, a promising future, and perhaps the very thing worth pursuing while we can—happiness.