Immigrant kids
Posted: Tuesday, October 14, 2008 11:23 AM by Sam Singal
By Maria Menounos, NBC News contributing correspondent
Today, one in every five kids living in the U.S. is a child to immigrant parents and, in 15 years, the U.S. Census Bureau projects that more than half of all children will be minorities.
It should be no wonder, then, that this story and topic seemed to electrify our Nightly News office in New York. Upon hearing the pitch for the series, over 20 first-generation American employees swarmed to a meeting, eager to discuss their respective journeys with me, a first generation Greek American myself.
We had almost every culture represented at the meeting, too (Indian, Jamaican, Asian, Latino, African American and more). There was a definite unity – a common bond of sorts amongst all in attendance. Though some of us weren’t always proud to be the different ones in our classes growing up, we were all most certainly proud of our various heritages now.
Needless to say, growing up first-generation in America isn’t always easy and I can speak from personal experience. To begin with, English was my second language, and that created a myriad of problems. The worst thing was that I felt trapped in an endless game of academic catch-up. I was always two years behind in my grade school reading and comprehension and had to work incredibly hard just to maintain even that pace.
The cultural differences were as difficult as one might expect; kids are often rough on those who don’t fit in. My parents, for example, picked leaves from trees to make my lunch, which elicited jeers from classmates. (I quietly laugh now that grape leaves are a favorite delicacy amongst many of my friends with lengthy American lineage.) On a more serious note, my heart still aches for the other first-generation American students who I knew that had it far worse than I did. I remember an Asian student in my class who was tormented, daily, merely for his name. During the Gulf War, an Iraqi girl was harassed relentlessly because we were at war with Iraq.
Home, usually a word synonymous with shelter and comfort, is often a source of frustration, too. Like most immigrant parents, my mother and father couldn’t help me with homework. English was a language that they themselves were still trying to learn. In fact, I had to help them in terms of translation in order to pay bills and deal with other household matters. All of the above forced me to grow up faster and, ultimately, I am thankful for it all. However, I feel that these are experiences that are important to share because, for others in my situation, past or present, it may not be so positive.
Oz Contreras, a young boy whom you’ll see profiled in this series, is carrying a large burden in his own right. He has been the head of his household since the age of 12. Not only in school is he expected to achieve nothing less than straights A’s, but also, at home, he has to translate everything for his parents, pay all of the bills, and even work to provide necessary financial relief. Though responsible and mature, Oz wishes he could just be a kid for one day. He would like for one day to not have to drive his mom to the store in order to read the product labels and signs to her or to not have to take his dad to the insurance company to inquire and squabble over adequate coverage. Oz works before school, then goes to class and then goes to work again (teaching kids Spanish, ironically). He does play soccer, an activity that he claims is his only release, but when he returns home he attends to household duties before finally focusing on his homework.
I know what cynics out there may say: “His parents should learn English if they want to come here.” Or others will utter the famous phrase that I heard so often: “Go back to your own country if you’re gonna complain.”
Oz’s parents did attempt to learn English but the fast pace of the classes mixed with the fact that they needed to work in order to pay bills negated any chance at that. However, make no mistake. These parents are raising their children to be the best and to succeed. Their children are crime and drug free and all six of the Contreras kids are off to college. They carry straight A’s and appear to have bright futures that will most likely serve to enrich our nation.
I end this blog by recounting an experience I had just last weekend with my immigrant Uncle Nikita. The house was crowded with family, friends and even coworkers/members of the industry (i.e. the crew from “Access Hollywood” etc.). And there, holding court, was old Uncle Nick telling his amazing stories, in broken English, to varying audiences throughout the day -- stories about coming to the United States and his vast experiences in this country. At least a half dozen times over the course of the day, I heard him end a story with the proclamation “…and that’s why I always say God Bless America.” He maintains that this is the best country on earth and that he is so proud and so fortunate to live here. Uncle Nick didn’t know about my immigrant kids piece but it sure seemed appropriate to hear his sentiment.
