March 6, 2024
The Border Between Us
By John Myers
By: Diana Villano
I stood there, watching you stutter, “My daughter is here, she talk to you.” How many times have I heard that phrase? Too many to count. As I watched you frantically motion me over, I turned to the door. The wooden half-black painted barrier stood shut. I shrugged hoping you’d get the gesture that I already paid the toll and couldn’t afford to go back to the customer service desk. You clenched the receipt as the woman handed you a piece of paper and envelope. The lady indicated you used the door instead. I looked at the subway countdown clock, impatiently motioning at you to hurry up. The train would arrive in two minutes.
As we stepped in, I asked you what the lady said. “Me dijo que tengo que enviar esto por correo. No pudieron devolverme mis veinte.” I solemnly looked at you and those tears you so desperately tried to block from flowing out. You bravely put up a front when the lady pulled out Google translate because this time I wasn’t there to talk for you. Not like those times during parent teacher conferences when I took over for the teacher. “No entendieron mi inglés” is probably what spiraled in your mind. What use was the money you wasted on English classes if they looked at me anyway and turned a blind eye to you? And there I stood, watching you struggle to utter the words, “give me what mine.” It may have just been 20 dollars, but to you they were your 20 dollars, or your 200 pesos.
When I was five years old, I remember being in the middle of the hallway, walking towards the staircase behind the auditorium. I recall the teacher telling me it was time for my ELL class and that I was allowed to go by myself. “You’ve been there plenty of times, you should be familiar with the route. I trust that you’ll make it there safely.” I’m not sure whether that was supposed to make me feel confident or she was tired of having to drag me there. It’s all a blur, but as I open the door I see “ELL Classroom” in big black Ariel font letters. What a basic design for something that was labeled as special and fun. I quickly excelled in my separate class, fearing that I’d be mocked or left behind my peers for “being too slow.” I had developed a profound love for learning but my Spanish was holding me back.
“Some of the issues that ELL students face can be taxing on their confidence. And so rather than asserting who they are in their fullest, they might revert to maybe feeling shame about who they are,” says Barbara H. Yasue, an ESOL instructor at Laney College in Oakland. “Do you, for example, wait to get called on? Do you raise a hand? Does it hurt to call out? These are the rules and kind of social practices ELL students struggle with. When you’re not feeling confident, you might not feel as outgoing nor want to take risks. They might be coming from immigrant backgrounds and that’s coming from a place of shame. It’s really unfortunate.”
Being the eldest daughter in my Mexican family meant all the responsibility was laid on my shoulders. I was born to carry the family. Before I knew it I was a translator, personal chef, therapist, babysitter, housekeeper, teacher, discipliner, and family problem solver, at the age of eight. I wondered if I’d grow to be a confident, social butterfly, who is able to multitask in two languages. I became a child hiding behind a mask, a follower, a mirror, in order to be the perfect Mexican daughter.
Despite their struggles, Yasue says, “ELL students should use their language and cultural background as a way to integrate. Just because they’re learning English, they shouldn’t forget their first language and can find ways that they can be a kind of bridge to help others.”
The social world we live in today may be more open-minded than it once was, but language barriers still linger and can cause multiple conflicts between groups of people. Simply providing programs where students can adapt to English may be useful but what about the disregarded adults and children who struggle to meet the tuition required to attend? Rather, we should take the time to open our ears and truly understand one another by practicing languages individually. Because “el que no escucha consejos, no llega a viejos”. He who does not listen, doesn’t grow old.
I envision a world where hospitals no longer need translators, teachers can talk for themselves, children can be children, and immigrants can roam freely, and I can calmly walk through the physical and emotional barriers without worrying about my mom getting left behind. We can instead walk side by side. And perhaps one day, I can take off my many hats, and be able to come home and hear my mom say “me escucharon”.
