Thursday, January 16, 2014

Pain

Every Thursday morning I spend time at a local Junior High School, tutoring/mentoring immigrant students in an ESL class. I love this volunteer work--it keeps me in touch with the cross-cultural life that feels so comfortable to me. I never enter the school in fear, wondering if I will be able to help the student I work with or wondering if I will be able to communicate effectively. Like I said, it is a comfortable place for me as a TCA. I don't believe this is typical for Canadians who have not had any cross-cultural influence or experience.

I work one-on-one with the student that the teacher assigns to me. Often it's the same student but not always. Today was one of those times when I worked with a new student. This boy was from Seoul, Korea and had only been in this school for 2 weeks. I was asked to help him with the reading comprehension of a book the class was studying together. The teacher warned me that he was struggling but I had no idea to what extent until I tried to dialogue with him. He was shy and soft-spoken when he said anything at all. For much of our time together he said nothing and if I asked him questions he would stare blankly at the book or just look down. It was all so painful for him, like he was screaming inside to get out but living in this cold, foreign land was smothering him to death. I asked him if he missed his country, his family in Korea. He replied, "yes" very somberly. I wanted to hug him--to tell him I was sorry and that he would be okay--but will he be? Will he be strong enough to fight for identity? The only time his eyes brightened briefly was when I mentioned I had been to Seoul once, just for one night between plane transfers. I could tell he liked that but then the moment was gone. And then my time with him was done and I was gone.

As I walked to my car, I cried for him, my heart breaking. I felt his pain--the pain of the surreal, being surrounded by everything unfamiliar and missing home. And then I said a prayer for him, that God would meet him in his pain and give him comfort and hope. Because I know God cares and loves immigrant and TCK children.

5 comments:

~Rain``` said...

I am so thrilled that you had the opportunity to minister to this young boy. God has placed you there for a purpose, even if it is just to pray for him.

I agree with you. Most Canadians would find such a cross-culture experience difficult. We also don't realize how fortunate we are that we speak the international language of trade and that we don't have to struggle in communication like others. I always find it humbling to experience another culture with another language unknown to me. Suddenly, I am at a loss for words. It is good to be in such a place.

I kind of consider myself a TCA as well, even though Canada is the land of my birth. I am not really "Western" in my thinking. Neither "Eastern". I'm caught in the middle somewhere. Your words speak to me.

Connie Mae Inglis said...

Yes, Rain, I would definitely call you a TCA (By the way, I just made that term up but it works for me).

Kimmy said...

Connie, I was fighting back tears by the end of this post. It must be so hard for these students to "fit in", and with the language barrier it would be even more difficult.

Kimmy said...

Connie, I was fighting back tears by the end of this post. It must be so hard for these students to "fit in", and with the language barrier it would be even more difficult.

Connie Mae Inglis said...

Yup, Kim, it was a tough morning. Every time I think of him I pray for him. I'm going to keep an eye on him and see how he does by the end of the school year.