I Am a Public School Teacher: Give Me All the Refugees You’ve Got!
Refugees Welcome
Come into my classroom any day of the week and you’ll see refugees.
That little Iraqi boy slumped over a book written in Arabic while the rest of the class reads the same story in English. Those twin girls blinking back memories of the Bosnian War as they try to underline possessive nouns on an English worksheet. That brown-skinned boy compulsively rocking back-and-forth in his seat fighting back tears wondering when his dad is going to come home from prison.
Every day, every hour, every minute our public schools are places of refuge for children seeking asylum, fugitives, emigres, exiles, the lost, the displaced, dear hearts seeking a kind word and a caring glance.
Some may shudder or sneer at the prospect of giving shelter to people in need, but that is the reality in our public schools. In the lives of many, many children we provide the only stability, theonly safety, the only love they get all day.
And, yes, I do mean love. I love my students. Each and every one of them. Sometimes they are far from lovable. Sometimes they look at me with distrust. They bristle at assignments. They jump when redirected. But those are the ones I try to love the most, because they are the ones most in need.
I told a friend once that I had a student who had escaped from Iraq. His parents had collaboratedwith the U.S. military and received death threats for their efforts. So he and his family fled to my hometown so far away from his humid desert heartland.
I told her how difficult it was trying to communicate with a student who spoke hardly any English. I I Am a Public School Teacher: Give Me All the Refugees You’ve Got! - LA Progressive:
