I could tell lots of stories of immigrants and refugees that I have taught over the past few years. I could tell about kids whose only idea of school is a 30 minute lesson under a tree as the sun scorches them. I could tell about families who gave up their prospering careers as doctors and lawyers so that their kids could go to a school that does not close every few days due to violence or political tensions. I could tell about teens who came here--sometimes alone--with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Instead, I'm going to tell the story of an immigrant who is near and dear to my heart--not a student, but my husband.
While his story is not nearly as heart-wrenching or difficult as the others that I mentioned, it does show what kind of journey an immigrant undergoes--and how each step in the journey brings them closer to their goals. The story begins seven years ago in San Cristobal de Las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico, where we met and married. Step one on the journey: apply for a visa. After paying about $2,000 (our earnings from the past 6 months of working in Mexico!) and submitting all of the necessary paperwork, we were ready for the visa interview appointment. We spent about $1,000 more on airfare to Cuidad Juarez, a city on the complete opposite side of the map from San Cristobal and one of the most dangerous cities in the world. In fact, as we were looking for a hotel shortly after arriving, a woman pulled up to the sidewalk, said it wasn't safe for us to be walking around, and offered us lodging at her home for much cheaper than the hotels. We accepted, not knowing what else to do. Two days later, as I was walking to meet Jose Luis after his appointment, I witnessed a drive-by shooting just feet from where I was standing. That's right: a real life, drive-by shooting. As it turned out, the visa was delayed and we had to stay in this dreadful city for the rest of the week--spending much more money than anticipated on lodging, food, and the change in flights. It was all worth it, though, when Jose Luis finally held the visa in his hands. Step one on the journey complete.
Step two: look for work and a place to live in the U.S. In the span of one week, we bought a car, moved from Georgia to Tennessee, stayed in a dump motel, and finally managed to find a one-bedroom apartment within a reasonable price range--all while I greeted and planned for my first set of students in the U.S. Jose Luis, poor thing, was forced to pass the time while I worked by watching my crazy collection of chic flics and trying to study English. Needless to say, our checking account was depleted. After working a couple of months and catching up on rent, we had to pay $1,000 in immigration fees once again in order for Jose Luis to apply for his permanent residency. And again, we found ourselves broke while making 11 p.m. visits to Kinko's to send more documents, more photos. Finally, 4 months later, we received confirmation that our application was approved and that he was now authorized to work. But, in order to get a driver's license he had to show a social security card, and in order to get a social security card he had to have worked for at least 2 months. So, I drove us to church, to the mall, and even to his new place of employment, even though his macho Mexican pride couldn't bear to be seen in the passenger side.
Once again we found ourselves submitting application after application. We tried to apply for jobs in person, but they always told us he would have to do it online. We tried to do it online, but the websites never let us advance past the parts that asked "Are you a United States citizen?" or "social Security number" (not "are you authorized to work in the United States"). Are you starting to see how messed up the system is? Just when we had given up hope, he received a call for his first interview. His English was still so limited that he used the Spanish/English translator I had given him during the interview. Luckily he received another call a few days later asking when he could start. So in a matter of months he went from teaching physical education classes at a university and making decent earnings by Mexico standards to flipping burgers and making minimum wage. After being cooped up by himself all day in a cramped apartment for the past five months, though, he was happy to take whatever he could get. Step two in the process complete.
Step three: buy a house. Over the next couple of years we settled into a rhythm and learned to be content with our jobs--even though deep down we were both hoping for something better. We became curious about a program designed to help first time homebuyers and thought, why not try it? Unfortunately, since Jose Luis had no credit history, we didn't qualify. So, we bought some new furniture in his name and paid it off quickly--and little by little something strange happened; Jose Luis started to receive mail for the first time that wasn't from USCIS or family members, but from actual credit card companies. Against our better judgment, he applied for a credit card--feeling like we had no choice if we were ever going to own our own place. About the same time, we learned that we were expecting our first child and debated whether to stay in the small, noisy apartment or seek a more comfortable space. We took a chance and talked to our realtor--and this time he gave us good news! More paperwork, more applications, more fees, but we closed on our first house just two months before baby Susana was born. Step three in the process complete.
Jose Luis was now working the third shift at Steak 'N Shake, which meant that we rarely saw each other. One of his managers left to work for Vanderbilt University Dining and recommended Jose Luis for a cook job. He was interviewed just a few days before Susana was born, and when I called and interrupted his work at Steak 'N Shake at 5:30 a.m. to tell him that my water just broke, he basically told his coworkers that he would not be back.
Step four in the process: get a job teaching Spanish. Jose Luis came to love his job at Vanderbilt, in spite of the fact that he received a "temporary lay off" for three months every summer. But he felt a little strange about not utilizing the degrees he had worked so hard for in Mexico. Not long after moving to Tennessee, we started to investigate what Jose Luis would need to do to become a certified teacher in the U.S. The Tennessee Department of Education informed us of a company that could translate and evaluate his documents from Mexico, as long as they were originals. Since his two universities from Mexico refused to mail the original transcripts and had a policy that only he could pick them up, not a family member, our first trip back to Mexico, in summer 2009, included a stop at his two universities--one of which was 14 hours away by overnight bus ride. Did I mention that we also had to pay 500 something dollars for this service?
So we got everything translated and certified. But of course it couldn't be that easy. Now Jose Luis would have to pass 3 praxis tests before he could begin teaching: the Principles of Teaching and Learning, which consists of 3 essays and is so difficult that even many American students fail it the first time, the Physical Education test, and last but not least, Spanish. (By the way, the tests are also very expensive.) Although he put a great deal of time into preparing for the first two tests, his English was still not at the level necessary to write long, fluent essays, and he was devastated by the results. He was so crushed, in fact, that it was almost 5 years later before he worked up the determination to take the tests again. This time his English was much better, he received extra time, and he changed his method of studying. Unfortunately, he still came up short--failing to pass by only 1 measly point.
At the same time, he was growing more and more used to his job at Vanderbilt and received constant praise from both managers and coworkers. Just when he finally made up his mind to give up on teaching and even applied for a position as a higher level cook, he received a message that changed everything. It all started around the beginning of January. A friend he had met on a mission trip, who has been teaching Spanish at Greenbrier High School in Robertson County for many years, told him that one Spanish teacher had already left and that another one would be leaving in March. At first we were leary of spending several hours going through the application process again and didn't want to risk the disappointment of a rejection. But one lesson we have learned from all of these experiences is, you never know what might happen if you don't try.
After several phone calls, emails, and visits back and forth between Jose Luis and the human resources office, he was finally asked to come in for a job interview. The interview was much more difficult than he anticipated, and he thought for sure he bombed it. So he was more surprised than ever when he was offered the job. He has been teaching for one week now, and he is full of the energy and passion of an excited new teacher. I'm overjoyed too, because for the first time since we moved here he is working a normal schedule and able to spend much more time with us at home--just in time for the new baby's arrival. Step four in the process: complete.
We have not arrived at all of the steps on our journey, and it may be a long time before we do. But we have persevered, and each step has brought us closer to the next. Our lives are extremely hectic (some days we have to depend on caffeine just to make it through), and we may not have the fanciest house or the biggest cars. But we are blessed by so much more than material things; we have the love and support of an amazing family, a God who does not fail us, and so much more than what we deserve. We especially need to remember how much more we have now than what we started with. Of course, it would not have been possible without many who helped us along the way, from giving us things, to assisting with applications, to recommending us for jobs. More than anything, God answered our prayers and opened doors of opportunity for us, as I'm sure He will continue to do as long as we keep our focus on Him. I have also learned so much from Jose Luis's humility, patience, and positive attitude through it all. No matter what your view on immigration is, I hope you can appreciate how difficult the journey is for many immigrants. In spite of the constant challenges they face, they do not give up and often work harder than many others to reach their goals--and ultimately reach a greater level of happiness because of it.
