To Make My Mom's Dream Come True

Who walks around high school hugging their new math textbooks tightly to their chests for all to see? Surely putting such a thing into a backpack would be a disservice to the precious nature of the object.

Which high school students gather excitedly in their classroom before school on the day that poster presentations are due, chatting passionately about completing their work and how nervous they are about getting up in front of the class? Giddy, elated, butterflies in their stomachs, indeed. But also pumped and even rejoicing because they have a piece of poster board to show off to any who might see.

Who is unabashedly proud of their new backpacks on the initial day of class, pleased by their first ever box of colored pencils, large erasers, shiny notebooks and multicolored folders? Ah, fortunately for me, these are my students.

And who are they? They are fifteen, sixteen, seventeen year olds who happen to be attending school for the first time in their newfound country, the United States of America. They are mostly refugees from East Africa, they are mostly Muslim, and they are mostly a constant source of joy to me (disclosure: they are not perfect people, just like the rest of humanity!). They are Beginning English Language Learners, and they’re also a bunch of smart kids who want desperately to learn the language so they can move on to the next, more difficult class. They are dreamers with high expectations of themselves and their schooling.

We were recently studying the history of the United States, and some of our vocabulary words surrounding our lessons included the following: Native American, explorer, colonist, pioneer, immigrant, and refugee. I taught the students about each of these important groups of people in our country’s history, and we discussed the effects that each group had (and continues to have) on our country then and today. It was a voyage of discovery for my students as they contemplated what it might have been like to have lived here before Europeans encountered North America’s shores. I taught them about discrimination of Native American tribes and cultures, and, when asked time and again whether or not such treatment was fair and equitable, they shook their heads gravely and determined that no, such treatment certainly was not.

We discussed the exploration and colonization of America by Europeans, and the students sat, thoughtful and focused, as we discussed what that meant to the Native Americans’ way of life and culture. We learned about westward expansion, the Lewis & Clark Expedition, and Thomas Jefferson’s vision of a path to the Pacific. The students understood Sacagawea’s role in the expedition, too, and we discussed her bravery and the role that she played in helping the country to grow.

We wrote about whether or not they would have liked to have been pioneers. Demonstrating their kindheartedness, many stated that they would not have liked to have been because “it was not fair that they took away Native American homes and culture” and “I would not like to be a pioneer because I would not like to make Native Americans leave their land.”

Then we delved into immigration and how the population of the nation grew from five million to 23 million between 1800 and 1850. We researched the reasons for this growth and equated it to the immigration that has continued to define the story of the United States, even to this day in 2017 in the form of their very selves. We talked about how people from countries such as Kenya, Iraq, Russia, Mexico, Guatemala, China, etc. have made our nation culturally interesting and varied. We discussed what it means to be a “Nation of Richness” insofar as being a country with myriad groups coming together under the common threads of freedom and democracy, liberty and justice. They listened to one another as they discussed what it is they bring to our nation, and how they will contribute to its richness in the future.

Writing is sometimes difficult for new to country students, so we do a lot of it. One of the assignments that I asked students to do as they navigated our American history unit involved determining whether or not they saw themselves as immigrants or refugees (or both), what it was that brought them here, and why they and their families wanted to come to the U.S. Remembering that these students are Beginning English language learners, some of their answers follow, verbatim.

“I came to America in order to get better life and better education, also a better place to live which has a good weather. And I came to America to get good work and better work with better payment.” ~Fadumo, Age 15

“The reason why I came to America is to get better life and good education and more great life.” ~Hamdi, Age 17

“I moved to America because I wasn’t living with my family and my father. All my brothers and sisters lived in America, that is why I came here. And I came here to continue with my education, to graduate high school and college. And now I am happy to live with my family.” ~Farhiyo, Age 18

“I came to America because there is war going on in my country.” ~Faiso, Age 16

“I came because I need a better life and education, to work. Also my country did not have peace.” ~Khadra, Age 16

“I came to America from Kenya. I came to America searching for safe environment that I can live to have better future and to have a job and to make my mom’s dream come true.” ~Hani, Age 17

These refugees, my students, are here for many of the same reasons that the colonists, the pioneers, and my own immigrant ancestors came here from Wales and Germany: for a better life, for improved opportunities, for freedom, for a chance to live in peace. They have it tough, my dear ones, especially as older teens. After age thirteen, the human brain’s ability to learn language diminishes for various reasons and it’s much more of a challenge for my students to pick up the English language than if they had come when they were younger. They often comment that their younger brothers and sisters, who arrived at the same time they did, speak English better than they do. True, that. Another challenge.

And yet, my stalwart students march into my room with their textbooks held tightly against their chests, their poster boards open for all to see their meticulous work, their nerves tucked into their hearts as they anticipate that moment in front of their classmates and me as they speak up, with power, to present their findings to us all. In their new language, in their new classroom, in their newfound country.

For these children today, it’s about education, a chance for a better life, training for their lives after high school, the joy of being with family after long separations. They are being woven into their unique places in this land, and I expect beautiful things from them as they continue to find their way, as they seek to make a difference for themselves and their families. Just as European immigrants and pioneers stepped foot upon this country’s shores in the 1800’s with similar aspirations, it is my sincere hope that my students, sharp pencils and notebooks in hand, will be able to meet their heartfelt goals in their newfound nation, our United States of America.

My classroom, awaiting my eager students on any given day.

The Outlier

Welcome to my classroom, Room 510 at Apollo High School in St. Cloud, Minnesota. I have called it home for the last nine years, and it, like myself and my students, has been a work in progress. I teach English Language Learners (ELL), and I’m also called an EL Teacher (English Language) or an English as a Second Language (ESL) Teacher. I think we who speak the English language are all learners of it, so I’m a bit befuddled by all of the acronyms. However, what I really do is to teach Beginning English Language Learners, so you could call me a BELL Teacher and then we’d all be confused (do I teach music, too?!).

My students are often a Teacher’s Dream Come True at the high school level. They enter my doors a bit shyly each September, and what I notice above all in the majority of cases is that my students are highly motivated learners. Refugees who have had access to very limited formal schooling, they are just learning to navigate the hallways of Apollo when they come to me in their first or second year in the country. Their eyes, hearts, and minds are wide open to new experiences and they are fresh with ideas of their own to share. They are expectant, willing, and excited to be here. There is most certainly the exception to this rule, as with all groups of children. Not every student whom I have taught has come to me with great excitement! However, I am going to focus on one teen who was excited when he came to school for the first time. He caught my heart on the first day that he walked into Room 510 in 2013.

It takes time for most people to become acclimated to new surroundings, but I am particularly proud of my students who choose to jump right in, head first, to their experiences. Ahmed, now a proud 2016 Apollo graduate, walked into my classroom four years ago as a smallish, thin fifteen year old of Somali descent who was determined to succeed. He was born and raised in the Kebribeyah Refugee Camp in eastern Ethiopia. When Ahmed and his family left Kebribeyah in 2013, the camp was overcrowded. Ahmed and his siblings, whom I have also taught over the past few years, were born and raised in the camp, as is the case with the great majority of my students. The family had waited for years to get their ticket out; the time finally came for them in the spring of 2013. I was more than happy to welcome Ahmed and his family to the Apollo community.

Ahmed and his friend, Mohamed, sat front and center in the first row of seats in my classroom. Since it was their first year in the U.S. and the boys had had little to no exposure to English, I taught them and their classmates for five hours per day in a program that serves brand new refugee students in the St. Cloud School District. We got to know each other quite well during that time! I came to love Ahmed’s easy smile and quick laugh, and he carried his slim self with ease and confidence in the busy hallways. His affection for me and his friends was infectious.

Ahmed was attentive, took notes, and worked diligently alongside Mohamed day in and out, hour by precious hour. Despite his efforts, however, school was a real challenge for Ahmed. While Mohamed took quite easily to English, Ahmed did not. He grappled with reading and writing, having had virtually no schooling prior to walking into the doors of Apollo. I worked hard to meet his needs and yet he continued to struggle. On the last day of school, we went outside to play soccer together as a class. Ahmed ran around all of us on his nimble feet, dribbling like a dream and scoring goal after glorious goal for his team that day. Having coached soccer on and off for fifteen years, I quickly saw that he was a skilled player! I encouraged him to sign up to play for the Apollo soccer team in the fall.

He said, “I think it will be hard. I won’t be able to understand the coach. I don't speak good English."

“There are guys on the team who can interpret for you," I said. "Don’t worry about that. The coach will help you! No problem!” I explained how to sign up in the office.

“Okay, I will see,” he said.

Often, the boys and girls whom I encourage to play after their first year in the U.S. feel that they are not quite yet ready to engage at that level after being here for such a short time. I certainly understand their hesitation, and, prior to Ahmed, none of my students had chosen to take me up on the offer to play for the school team in their second year here. I am so pleased to say that Ahmed became an outlier.

He returned to school in the fall. When I saw him for the first time that second year, he was wearing a broad smile as he said, “Hey, Mrs. Marolf! I made the Apollo Varsity soccer team!”

“What? Yes! I’m so proud of you!”

I wanted to give the kid a big hug, but I am careful around my male Muslim students because their culture dictates that they should not generally have physical contact with females unless they are family. We chatted briefly, and I told Ahmed that I would see him on the soccer field. My son, Grant, plays for a rival team in the area, and I looked forward to seeing Ahmed thrive and prove his mettle without the burden of having to speak in a language that was such a challenge for him.

I had the opportunity to witness his soccer skills on the field throughout the season. It was a source of great pride for him to wear his Apollo jersey to school, and I saw him grow into a self-assured youngster as the season progressed, both on and off the field. He would stop into Room 510 frequently throughout the season to check in with me (he was no longer in my class). Happily, the Apollo Eagles had an excellent season, and Ahmed’s work in the midfield contributed significantly to their success. I cheered for him when I watched him play against Grant’s team (the Eagles won, to Grant’s chagrin!).

But it was a real privilege to watch and follow Ahmed and the Eagles as they headed into the Section tournament. I traveled around our region to follow the team over the next two weeks and stayed after all of the games to check in with Ahmed. He was quick to find me and to chat about each game and his play. Man, I loved the kid. His parents were new to the country, and they did not make it to the games. I was glad to be there for him.

Win by win, Ahmed and his diligence on full display, the Eagles eventually made it to the State Finals. Ahmed checked in with me the day before the big game; I wished him good luck, and he swaggered out of the room, excited for the opportunity before him. We had a school pep rally in order to demonstrate our support for the team the morning of the game. Ahmed grinned and joked with his teammates throughout the rally, happy and full of anticipation as he found himself the object of myriad cheers and high hopes.

Ahmed’s younger brother, Feisal, was in my class that year. The day before the game, I asked Feisal if he was going to go to watch Ahmed play. He sadly shook his head.

“It costs too much,” he said.

The game was to be played at St. Cloud State University, a few miles from Apollo, and I knew what I had to do. I bought Feisal a ticket and asked the Activities Director to deliver it to Feisal without him knowing that I had purchased it. Feisal caught the bus to the game from school, and I saw him there, outfitted in Apollo gear with a broad smile. His pride for his school and his big brother ran deep.

The Apollo Eagles’ fans yelled with abandon for the boys throughout the game. I screamed words of encouragement whenever Ahmed touched the ball or made a good play, my spirit rooting for our Eagles as they kept up against their opponent. It was indeed a glorious moment when Apollo scored the winning goal and became the Minnesota State Soccer Champions in 2014! Ahmed had played with passion and grace, and he relished the moment with his teammates and the adulation of the Apollo crowd after the game. I watched from the second row in the stands as the boys accepted their State trophy, as Ahmed received his own medal.

I took in every second as I watched that boy, a brave soul who chose to face his fears and took a risk to do something that he loved, celebrate with his team. Confidence was stamped firmly upon the heart of a young refugee teen on that blustery October day, a fitting end to a dream fulfilled and realized. 

The 2014 Apollo High School Class A Boys' State Soccer Champions

*Names have been changed to protect student privacy.