Olga*, 42, was an architect in the Ukraine and now she is a homemaker. Gina, 28, was a civil engineer in Venezuela and now she is a server. Deqa, 32, was an accountant in Somalia and now she works as an assembler. When I tutor these adult English Language Learners, I often consider what it would be like if the situation were reversed and I were the immigrant. What work could I do?
I’ve made my living as a writer and a teacher—work that requires a good command of the language, both written and spoken. As a marketing communication writer, understanding connotation (e.g., ‘cheap’ vs. ‘inexpensive’) and nuance (e.g., the perspective of suburban mothers vs. that of urban mothers) were key to being persuasive. Since project management was a big part of my work, I developed schedules and budgets and coordinated the efforts of several other team members.
As a teacher, I’ve needed to use clear, simple wording and examples that would help someone comprehend a word or concept. I’ve had to be quick with alternative explanations, too. When I tutor immigrants, I am also teaching American culture as well as English language so I must remember not to make assumptions about anybody’s worldview or beliefs.
If I lived in Ukraine, Venezuela, Somalia, Mexico, Thailand, Ethiopia, Vietnam, or any of the other places my students come from, I wouldn’t know those languages and cultures well enough to make a living as a teacher or writer. My M.A. in English would be irrelevant, just as Olga’s, Gina’s, and Deqa’s degrees are.
When I review my non-language-based skills, my list is short and sounds like the work my students do: cooking, cleaning, factory work, or stocking merchandise in a store. With time and a bit more knowledge of language and culture, I could take care of children or infirm adults. As my language improved, perhaps I could be a sales clerk, wait tables, or drive a cab.
But professional work in which I use my communication, analytical, and organizational skills would be closed to me. What also would be lost to me is the respect that goes with having a professional career. If I were an immigrant with poor language skills, most people would assume I was stupid and uneducated—nothing more than the cleaner or babysitter I appeared to be.
If I were an immigrant, I wouldn’t want to be pitied for the challenges of learning a new language and culture (and neither do my students). I would have chosen to emigrate. Or maybe I’d be a refugee who didn’t want to leave but needed a safe place to start over. Either way, before I moved, I would have been aware that it’s hard to learn a new language and work in a foreign country—the bare minimum needed to survive. If I missed my homeland, was lonely, felt disrespected, or experienced outright hostility, it would be mine to deal with. In time, I could hope that safety, security, and a better quality of life would come.
When I work with student immigrants, I keep in mind that it’s hard to do what they do, even though they chose it. I admire their grit, persistence, ability to work toward long term goals, and overall resilience. I wonder if I would have the same qualities if I were starting over in a new country?
*All names have been changed to protect student privacy.
Great post. The title caught my attention right away. I am in awe of anyone who comes to another country and attempts the language regularly. The few times I’ve been abroad I felt so self-conscious trying out just some basic words and phrases! I have waitressed, so I could do that, provided I could verbally communicate. I could teach English. Be a nanny. I don’t know. It’s a great question and I have so much respect for people who are willing to come here and start at the bottom for the promise of a better life. That takes tremendous courage.
I’ve had that same feeling abroad when I’ve attempted my limited Spanish and French— you feel so helpless!
Another well-done post that made me think about things in a new way. And thanks for all you do to tutor others. It’s such a valuable service, and I know you do it with a great deal of care and compassion.
Thanks for reading, Bev! I so appreciate hearing from you–glad the perspective was useful.
Important points to consider, Ellen. Most people don’t really think about what it would be like to uproot your family (or split it up, which is worse) and start over in a new country.
I went to an immersion language school in Guatemala and remember feeling like an idiot with the vocabulary of a 5-year-old. And forget nuance, I embarrassed myself constantly. It was humbling!
That’s the way I feel when I try to speak Spanish or French!
Thoughtfully expressed. Hits home.