I seem to be getting
less Foolish lately.
Maybe that’s because the Foolishness in the world around
me is getting so Crazy that it’s no longer Funny.
I hope not because we need to laugh as much today as we ever have.
I’ll get back to
Foolishness as soon as I can but, in the meantime, please read this article.
Teen Love Letters to America
Students at a Queens middle school for
immigrants pour out their appreciation.
By
Bob Brody
July 4, 2019 2:20
pm ET
Migrant children play soccer at a shelter in
Homestead, Fla., April 19. PHOTO: WILFREDO
LEE/ASSOCIATED PRESS
“I came to the United
States two years ago,” wrote Sara, because of “the civil war which made it
unsafe for us to stay” in Yemen. “We had to leave to save our lives.” Sara, 13,
plans to become a physician.
“A lot of fighting,
robbery, murder and political problems” forced Taslima and her family to come
to America from Bangladesh three years ago. The eighth-grader intends to be a
cardiologist or neurologist. “I will study hard,” she promises.
“The situation in our
country is horrible,” wrote Milagros, also 13, about Venezuela. Her family
arrived here three years ago “looking for a better place to live.” Milagros
dreams of becoming the first Latina to start a company valued at $1 billion.
So go
three letters from teenagers I recently received. In December the Journal
published “Requiem for a Doorman,”
my essay about Carlos Nino, who’d worked in my apartment building. I knew him
for 40 years and called him a friend.
Carlos came to the U.S.
from Colombia at 18 with little education or money. A model citizen, he worked
two jobs and put both his sons through college. He retired prematurely to care
for his ailing wife, only to die of heart failure months after her cancer went
into remission.
Soon after my essay
appeared, I got a letter from Evelyn Gomez, a veteran social-studies teacher at
IS 235, the Academy for New Americans, a public middle school in Astoria,
Queens, that serves newly arrived immigrants from grades six through eight. She
had read the piece to her 20 students. Those students then sent me letters,
too.
They explained why they
had migrated—from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America and elsewhere—to the U.S.
Some had fled hardship. Most acknowledged pursuing educational and economic
opportunities all but unavailable back home. They plan to be computer
scientists, lawyers, dentists and mechanical engineers.
I was invited to speak
at the school, among the few in New York City that specialize in educating
immigrant children. In mid-May I gave my talk to some 150 students, teachers
and parents. I told why I had honored Carlos in my essay. I revealed my own immigrant
history, with both my grandfathers coming here in the early 20th century and
eventually starting families and successful businesses. I explained, too, why
my essays so often pay tribute to Queens, the most ethnically diverse place on
the planet. Finally, I urged the students to write about themselves to benefit
generations to come.
Afterward, a student
handed me a packet containing handmade cards with personal messages inside from
81 of his schoolmates. Card after card spoke of families coming to our country
to seek better lives and better futures.
I could write back to
wish these kids luck. But that would feel redundant. Living here now, they’re
already getting all the luck they’ll likely ever need.
Mr. Brody, an executive and essayist in New
York City, is author of the memoir “Playing Catch with Strangers: A Family Guy
(Reluctantly) Comes of Age.”
