A Terrifying Word

This weekend, my film class watched American Beauty. While my students normally start begging me to let them out 30 minutes early, I could barely get them to leave this Saturday. Working in groups, I had them discuss the title of the film and symbolism within the film (being more of a literature expert, I take a similar approach to teaching film). Still used to giving such assignments to my former high school students who would reluctantly talk for a few minutes and then spout out a couple of sentences (often repeating what I had already said), I was so excited to hear them get excited. They discussed the motif of red throughout the movie, pointing out observations even I hadn't made. They talked about typical American families and compared the idea of catching people in their private lives to a previous movie we had watched, Rear Window.

I have a lot of fun when my classes go so well, but it also reminds me just how intelligent many of my students are. Some of them have advanced education in their home countries. Many others have had a world of experience and now find themselves practically forced into my classroom.

This is no typical college experience. While my students seem to enjoy the cinema class and are good sports in my language classes, I don't flatter myself into thinking they're choosing to be there out of pure interest in the subject matter. Our country makes it very hard for immigrants to stay here, and I'm put into the tricky position of ensuring they maintain their full-time student status or else risk deportment. This isn't easy, considering that my students work full-time, often illegally, although of course I'm not supposed to know that. The law requires that they spend a certain amount of time in class each week, but students hope and beg for teacher cooperation in the form of fudging the records. Since I would prefer to keep my job and ensure a future career for myself, I have to be tougher than I want to be with them. My director insists I should just mention the word "deportment" over and over in order to scare them into coming to class. Preferring to take a more sensitive approach, I remind them of the precarious position they put both themselves and the school (and me) in when they don't show up to class.

I'm learning a lot from this experience and can already see immigration rights becoming my new pet cause that I obsess over. It's funny how few people know about the problems and sometimes corruption that goes on behind the scenes...I had no idea about these issues before I took the job.

I also no longer take for granted the fact that I live here free and clear. I don't have to struggle to assimilate to a foreign culture, and I don't have to worry about being "shipped off" if I make a mistake. Even if I did decide to live in another country, I would always have a decent life here if it didn't work out. My students can't necessarily say the same.