Our cups runneth over

You know here in the United States our cups runneth over. It is really hard to forget how well we are doing when we are constantly inundated with the "reality" T.V. of Paris Hilton and MTV Cribs, but we are really doing pretty well for ourselves. Of course there is poverty in the United States, but not the same poverty that you see in other parts of the world.

In Brazil, people speak of the difference between pobreza and miseria. Pobreza is poverty. Miseria is complete and utter deprivation. We have pobreza. Too much of the world has miseria. In today's online New York Times there is a multi-media presentation by journalist Nicholas D. Kristof. He traveled to Swaziland in Africa to cover the devastation of the A.I.D.S. epidemic there. Swaziland was never what you'd call a rich country, but now fully 40% of the adult population is infected with the virus that causes A.I.D.S. He profiles several families now headed or soon to be headed by children, because all the adult members of the families have one by one died off, victims of this horrible disease.

These kids, eleven or twelve years old, living in mud huts, students in the 5th grade, have nursed dying parents, grandparents and aunts and now are the heads of households, caring for their younger brothers and sisters as best they can. They eat one meal a day at school. They have one tattered set of clothes. They have no shoes. They have faced cruel death after cruel death. They are "parents". They are 12. They are many.

In contrast, I read an article yesterday in the June 2006 issue of Texas Monthly called "The Gangtas of Godwin Park" about a wealthy teenager in Houston who in "a tragic tale of drugs, money, race, and MySpace" was gunned down in a prescription drug deal gone wrong. It is a cautionary tale for the rich kids I teach here in Austin, who escape the pressures of their expectations with drug use and risky behaviors and for the poor kids I teach here in Austin who must walk the halls next to kids whose lifestyles look to them too much like those depicted on MTV's My Super Sweet Sixteen and who want a piece of it. One of the kids now doing time for the death of the wealthy dealer is a poor kid who used to work at McDonald's but fell into a crowd who talked him out of getting it the "slow way" and into getting it the "fast way". Like the child-parents in the New York Times piece, this young man, Dontae Terrell Moore, had helped care for younger relatives at his aunt's crowded rented home not far from where the wealthy victim, Jonathan Finkelman, lived.

By all accounts, Dontae lived in pobreza, not in miseria, but living so close to the very wealthy and being exposed to a steady media diet of the obscenely rich, took its toll on basically a good kid. Jonathan was equally swept up in the weird psychological mix of high academic and social expectations, entitlement, youthful invulnerability and thrill seeking that is pressed on kids these days. They are emotionally immature and sheltered by their parents, but have access to a very fast lifestyle while being pressured to perform. I see it everyday. It leads to acting out at school, cheating on tests, drug and alcohol abuse and risky sexual behaviors. And too many parents are blind to what their "good kids" are doing. Most survive somehow. Some end up like Jonathan.

People should pay more attention to this cautionary tale and should look very closely at what their kids are up to. Problems are not always with "other people's children". People should also look very closely at the stories of the parentless families in Africa, the bleak lives of those in the northern Brazil, those displaced refugees living in torn tents all over the world, the isolated Pakistanis who froze in the mountain winter after last year's earthquake--all the people who live not in pobreza but in miseria. If we could only stop comparing ourselves to the miniscule number of Paris Hiltons and Kayne Wests in the world and take more frequent notice of the hundreds of millions of human beings struggling to maintain some dignity for themselves and their families with no food and no change of clothes and death at their door, we would see that our cup runneth over.

Of course, we should continue to push forward, to strive for a better life. It is part of the human spirit, but we should do it with a level of gratitude that fills us up rather than a jealousy that empties our souls.

English the National Language?

It passed in the Senate. But why? Was English in danger? No. I'll bet most people didn't even know that we didn't have a national language. Well, back when we were forming this country and drafting a Constitution it was decided by our wise founding fathers not to have one. First of all, we had just broken away from those taxing imperalists, the English, remember? German was bounced around as an alternative, but cooler heads prevailed. After all, whether or not our founding fathers had studied linguistics, they intrinsically understood that we would speak whatever worked for us--without even symbolically excluding anyone who spoke another native tongue.

What works for us is English. Immigrants learn English--even Spanish-speaking immigrants. In three generations the home-country language dies in any family here unless the latest generation studies the language in school. We have a great, big Spanish-speaking neighbor. Our neighborhood, our hemisphere, is crowded with Spanish-speaking countries, where, by the way, it seems anyone with a little extra cash pays for an English course. Why? Because English is not in danger.

Not only does the rich neighbor, the United States, speak English, but English has become the lingua-franca of the world. Business is conducted all over the world in English. English is the official language of air traffic controlers the world over. It is widely recognized that immigrants must learn English to integrate into the United States, and learning English will benefit them even if they return to their homeland. As a teacher in a public school, I see kids learning English. No, they don't learn it over night. Yes, in their initial years in the U.S. they feel more comfortable with those who speak their home language. Of course they do. They are in a strange place. But they learn English.

So here we are in 2006, trying to make English the official national language of the United States. For more than 200 years we have just let people figure out that English was the language to speak to get things done, to do business in this country. For more than 200 years we made no official, national moves, to intimidate anyone into learning English. We didn't officially rank English above anyone's native tongue on a national scale. So why now? My husband says racism. I can't come up with another answer that makes much sense.

The President Weighs In

Bold. Middle of the road. Too soft. The commentators were all rushing to label Bush's views on the immigration issue and his speech that he delivered on Monday night. I don't think it was any of those things, but I do think it was important and about time. National Guard on the border. Well, it makes me a little queasy on too many levels to name--let's just say I am not a big fan of that idea, but beyond that--not bad, Mr. President. And can I just say that I generally refer to him as a limp-brained, monosyllabic moron.

This issue is really important and it is not going away and it is not one-dimensional. And the president has acknowledged all of these things. And he did it from the Oval Office. This was the first time in his presidency that he has addressed the American public on a domestic issue from the Oval Office. It underscores the complexity and the urgency of this matter, and even with his dimishing poll numbers, with the moderate Republican Senators already on board with immigration reform, this may provide enough momentum for some remotely comprehensive bill to make it through both houses of Congress. I can only hope it does. And, though, I never thought I would actually be saying this, Thank you, Mr. Bush.

Checking back in

Wow. It has been two weeks since I last posted. I think I have been too overwelmed to focus in on one particular subject and compose a piece. Luckily, I am almost at the end of the school year, and that means that means freedom and time to think. On May 31st, I will leave for Spain with some of my students, and that is always good for my spirit and my inspiration. It recharges me. It reminds me who I am, why I teach, why I love language and culture, how cool it can be to just talk to and listen to kids, how you can meet new friends in the strangest places, how slowing down to enjoy a meal is civilized, how old and new together is beautiful, and how lucky I am.

Somehow, being at school day in and day out, beats so much out of me. There are so many competing demands and so many self-absorbed, self-important people to contend with, both students and faculty. One day, I will be free of that, too, and find a way to contribute to kids lives and expand their worlds outside of the confines of the school. I dream of it and slowly I am planning my escape...