Why do I care about immigration policy? Quick story ...

The writing assignment was something silly, something trivial. I think I had suggested that they recall a time when they were scared but had to do something anyway. The focus of the lesson was organizing a story chronologically, and I didn’t care what they wrote about. But there was Caridad, working away, brow furrowed, tongue poking out the side.

Cari (not her real name) is not in a remedial class because she has a learning disability; she has trouble with reading and writing because English is her second language. She’s from Central America. She tolerates me, but doesn’t like school. She is a petite beauty, and it is fun to watch her escape from class and start talking to her friends; her face lights up and her mouth motors up. But now, she is focused on her work, without any trace of boredom. I stop at her desk and read over her shoulder.

“The worse part of the trip is bus riding. We sit for three days, and I am very sore. My legs they are not a good shape. They are all stiffed and crammed. I am nerves and frayed all over my whole body. At end of bus, we run two days across the desert, and I am not running good. Dark is outside the bus and I am scare. Then light is outside the bus and I am still frayed. Soon I am running, but now my legs are bad crammed and I am scare stiff. I hate bus riding worse of all.”

Cari seems so empty-headed most of the time. She tends her nails and her hair. She giggles with her friends. She flirts a lot. I asked carelessly for a story with a clear time line, and I get this? I am supposed to correct the spelling, the grammar, the transitions, the chronology in that story?

I do not remember what I said: something useful, something forgettable. I do remember what I thought, because it has not changed: I am so privileged that this girl came to my country when she emigrated. I am so ashamed she had to travel in fear and pain to get here. I am so glad she is able to live a normal teenage life here now. I am so fortunate to get a glimpse past the curtain of silliness into the strength hidden inside. I admire her so much.