Monday, October 7, 2019

Notes from public school - day 34

For around 40 minutes each day, we have a writer’s workshop in my classroom.

If you know me well, you know this is my favorite time of the school day.

One of the main reasons I love to write is because writing helps me understand the world around me.

And one of the main reasons I love to teach my students to write is because their writing helps me understand them.

We are working on “small moments,” writing as clearly and detailed as we can about something that happened in our lives that we will never forget.

We will move on from the small moment to longer narrative pieces about our lives in the coming weeks.

Twelve of the twenty students in my home room are from Mexico, Central America and South America.

Though they are nine and ten year olds, they are aware (painfully so, I might add) of the anti-immigrant rhetoric and action in the United States over the past years.

They look to me as their teacher for comfort, courage and creativity to help them live life in Greenville, South Carolina, the South, the U.S., and the world in these times.

I am here for them.

“Some of you were born and lived in other countries before you came to the United States.
Some of you were born in the United States, but your parents immigrated to the United States and talk with you about the country from which they came,” I began the writing workshop today. “I would love for you to write about what you remember or your parents remember about your home country. I want to hear those stories. I want to read those stories.”

“Immigrants have done so much to help make America a great country,” I exclaimed.

Then I wrote an opening paragraph about my own experience as an immigrant to Mali in west Africa and what it was like to move back to the United States after living there for 3 years.

“Can you believe,” I asked, “That when I lived in Mali there was only one brand of soap I could buy in the market near my village? I loved it! It was so, so difficult to come back to the United States, go to a grocery store, walk down an aisle, and see that there were 10 or 20 different brands of soap. How was I supposed to know which one to buy?!”

They laughed at my dilemma.

Then they began to write.

One of my students is from Peru.

He has been in the United Stated for a little over a year.

How can I describe him?

He has a bowl haircut, and his bangs zig zag across his forehead in an endearing kind of way.

His eyes are the brown of the dirt paths that led up the mountain to his highland village home. They are deep and kind.

His smile is like the sunshine and his laugh is like a cool, refreshing breeze.

I just chose him as a Terrific Kid from my classroom, an award that I’m sure will bring out that smile and laughter for an entire day.

Everyone who meets him knows he is a special kid, one of those people who are born into the world to make it a better place.

I asked him to tell me his story so I could help him write it down.

“When I lived in Peru, I lived in a mountain village,” he said. “The ground was very rocky. We were all very poor.”

“It is good for us to live in America, because my papí and mamí can make a little money,” he continued.

“One time, my mamí went for a job and someone said, ‘No, we don’t want you here,’ and she came home and cried.”

“But I’m glad you want me here, Mr. Barton.”

My heart swelled and sank at the same time.

Has that ever happened to you?

It happens to me often as I read the lives of the students I teach and travel the road of life with them.

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