Keep Going
This is a personal story, which I share only in hope of encouraging others.
This past summer — shortly after writing this piece — I reached a breaking point. My heart was hurting, my anger was seething, and I could no longer sit by and simply wish things were different.
Living near San Diego at the time, I suspected it would not be difficult to find an organization(s) working with those who hoped to immigrate to the United States. And I was correct, quickly connecting with the International Rescue Committee (IRC) — an organization that:
“responds to the world’s worst humanitarian crises and helps people whose lives and livelihoods are shattered by conflict and disaster to survive, recover, and gain control of their future.”
If you’re not familiar with the IRC, I urge you to check them out. It’s a fantastic group — doing excellent work through dedicated (if not stretched to their limits) people.
I was assigned to serve as a mentor in their citizenship program, helping immigrants in the final stage of the process study for their citizenship exam. Think of it as teaching civics to ESL students. It wasn’t exactly helping families and/or children locked in cages — but they were eager for the help, I was eager to serve, and frankly — I can think of nothing better suited for my passion and abilites.
As with many volunteer organizations, resoucers were scarce, and the reality of the need quickly set in. There was no one available to train me, and on my first day — none of the other volunteers showed up. So, I grabbed the curriculum and got to work.
> Now, let me pause and ask you:
What do you think that room looked like? Who do you think was in that class? What did they look like? What did they act like? What did they want?
Whatever your perceptions of what an immigrant looks like, I can tell you that I’ve never met a more dedicated and hardworking group of people in my life. Each had come for different reasons (yes, some as refugees) but all willing to do anything and everything to work hard to be a part of this great country.
There was the father working three jobs and coming to class after an overnight shift. A mother working to care for her incapacitated husband while putting her three adult children through college. The widow who wanted to build a new life for herself. The list goes on.
Each week we’d have upwards of 20 students, three to four native languages, with varying degrees of comprehension. We, the volunteers, would all work our asses off trying to help — and each week we’d leave grateful that we had an opportunity to teach such an amazing group of people and play a role in their journey to becoming citizens. Go ahead by the way, give it a shot (this is only one part of the exam).
This continued for several months, and despite all that I think I’ve accomplished in my life, never have I looked forward to anything the way I looked forward to those Tuesday afternoons.
The best moment however, came on my last day before we made the move to the Bay Area. When of all of my students who had gone on to take their exam, one came back to say thank you.
This student, we’ll call her Linh, had been one of my most attentive. As I spent a great deal of time talking over the course of the two hour class (in addition to all the time I spent on the phone at work) I would often start to lose my voice. Linh, who seemed to pay better attention to my well-being than I did, would somehow magically appear by my side with a glass of water whenever I needed it. She would smile, and simply say “for you, teacher.”
On my last day, Linh showed up to share with the whole group that she had passed her citizenship exam — and was awaiting her naturalization ceremony to take the oath of allegiance. With her in her purse, were six bottles of water which she presented to me with a simple “thank you, teacher.”
In all of my life, I don’t know that I have ever been given a more meaningful gift. It was a thank you, but it was also a “keep going.” She knew I’d need that water to keep teaching, and she knew others would need the same guidance. In my office hangs a selfie I took of the two of us that day (which I won’t share for her privacy) I wish I could describe the emotion, it was a mix of pride, humility, honor, joy, and so much more, in what is one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.
Now to be completely candid, I’m embarrassed it took me as long as it did to get up and do something — anything — to make a difference in the lives of those who have been so unfairly targeted by this administration. Good people, hardworking, wanting to contribute to this great nation of ours. People who’s desire, and hope, and work ethic, and passion, and family are what truly makes us great.
I share this because in the midst of my demanding schedule, ridiculous work hours, immense travel , and time with my family — I found a way to volunteer. If I can do it — anyone can. Look around, there are people in need in every community in this country. It doesn’t take much to make a big difference: a few hours there, a bit of kindness here, a simply willingness to give of yourself.
There are always excuses, reasons why it’s not the right time, reasons why you just can’t. Do it anyway. We create a more perfect union not when we elect the right people, but when we elect to do the most good ourselves.
No misguided party, no dishonest leader, no biased press or cynical voices can stand up against a group of people dedicated to making the world a better place. They are few, we are many. Make 2019 the year you “keep going” and endeavor to make the world better, one small act of kindness at a time.
