Journal #3

I was sitting at the computer the other day when I heard a small cough and a timid, "Excuse me," coming from the direction of the door. I looked up and saw an extremely beautiful, slightly nervous-looking woman standing next to the coffee maker.

"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I have an appointment with ___."
"Sure, OK," I reply. "What's your name?"
She told me. The name evoked images of smoky, protest-ridden Tehran, or perhaps the near impassable mountains of western Afghanistan. The accent spoke of several years spent in western Europe--France, maybe. As I amused myself by putting together a history for this mysterious woman, I kept asking myself the same question: Why on earth did she decide to come to Boise, Idaho?

I am continually surprised at the number of ESL students attending Boise State. When I moved out here five years ago from the East Coast, I was expecting a state full of white, gun-toting, beer-guzzling, potato-growing hayseeds. And lo, my expectations were fulfilled--except for the beer-guzzling part. What I didn't know, and what I am still amazed by today, was how many refugees have found homes here over the years. With an eclectic mix of Bosnians, Afghanis, Iraqis, Somalis, Chinese, Koreans, and Vietnamese, Boise is a virtual United Nations. This is good for me, as I am fascinated by other countries, languages and cultures. It's a wonder to me that, small and isolated as it is, Boise has become a center for refugee resettlement (as I understand, it has something to do with job availability and a high standard of living). These refugees learn English, find jobs and send their kids to public schools, where they are strongly encouraged to pursue higher education. And, as the work ethic among immigrants tends to be extremely high, they often do pursue higher education right here at Boise State.

One of the main incentives for working in the Writing Center for me was the chance to be able to work with ESL students. I've had a bit of experience in helping ESL students with their writing. From 2007-2008, I lived in Romania and attended classes at the local university. The students who were in the classes with me spoke perfect English, often along with their native Romanian or Hungarian, and had studied German and/or French extensively before taking on English. The Romanian education system is very focused on linguistics. Romania's history includes various violent take-overs by and extended alliances with other nations, so language became a critical element in every Romanian's education. And so there I was: a stranger, a native English speaker knowing only a little French and even less Romanian without any clue as to why the hell I had actually come. It was very interesting being on the other end of the spectrum. People speak slowly, and often loudly, for your benefit, not realizing that deafness and foreignness don't go hand in hand. People make jokes at your expense, speaking quickly so you don't catch it all. You can't read signs, or go to the grocery store alone, or ask for directions. It's very difficult to find your niche when you're so far from all you know.

Eventually, however, when my language skills improved, I found my niche. The students in my class were always eager to learn the newest slang or curse words that America had to offer. They paraded me around in front of their friends as a kind of trophy. And perhaps most importantly (and the entire reason why I even went off on this Romania tangent in the first place), they were constantly after to me to help them with their English papers. "What's a better way to say this?" "How's my punctuation?" "Does this sound awkward to you?" "What's a good idiom to use here so I sound more American?" "Citation? What the heck does that mean? I just copied it all from Wikipedia. Is that OK?" I really enjoyed helping them become better English speakers and better English writers. It was great to find a purpose in the craziness that was that entire experience.

All that to say, I am very excited to begin consulting if it means I get to work with ESL students.

Knock on wood. Now that I've said that, something will happen to make me hate all ESL students. But I hope that won't happen.