Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ways we humans communicate. Our 3-month old grandson is starting to “talk” to us, uttering coos and squawks when he appears to be content, pathetic whimpers when we think he’s tired, and screaming (we call it “the Hornet”) when he has gas, needs to nurse, or is generally pissed off. When the Hornet visits, we do a dance, swaying and patting him gently while we whisper “shhh” in his ear. My husband and I have a less-than-even chance that our efforts will placate him; nuzzling his mother is generally more effective.
At 3-months, our grandson is discerning in the quantity of coos he makes. He takes after his grandfather, a quiet man who speaks when there’s something important to communicate. I, on the other hand, try to get the baby to chatter at me by babbling at him, in hopes of encouraging long running conversations. Sometimes it works; other times I look in his eyes and wonder if he is thinking, “Who is that crazy lady who keeps jabbering at me?”
Attempting to decipher the baby’s utterings sent me in search of my linguistics textbooks and reference materials regarding the language acquisition of babies. Fascinating to learn that all those coos and squeaks do have meaning, and that even infants use some rules of language to communicate with us. By a year old, babies’ language skills are beginning to be quite sophisticated. They may attempt to form simple sentences, and will know how to communicate different meanings by changing the order of words in a sentence — think “Kiss baby,” versus “Baby kiss.” Remarkable.
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Those linguistic textbooks were required reading when I studied how to be an “English as a Second Language” (ESL, also known as ESOL — English to Speakers of Other Languages) teacher. In the P.S.U. program, we learned much more than how to teach English grammar; much of our study was devoted to becoming culturally-sensitive teachers, honoring our second-language students’ backgrounds and experiences.
Alejandro Jimenez was just such a student, though never one of mine. He arrived in the Hood River Valley in 1995 at age 8, an undocumented immigrant from Colima, Mexico. He spoke no English. Today, Alejandro is an award-winning bilingual spoken word poet and teacher living in Colorado.
Come Saturday, March 17, everyone who participates in the Hood River County Library’s community reading program will come to know more about Alejandro. His is book “Moreno. Prieto. Brown.” has been selected as the featured book for 2018. The kick-off event will take place at the downtown library from 2-3:30 p.m., with similar events held in Parkdale and Cascade Locks on Tuesday, March 20 from 5-7 p.m. Everyone is encouraged to pick up a free book. The author himself will visit Hood River County April 28-29. Check the library’s brochure or their website for more details.
Alejandro’s story doesn’t sugarcoat his painful journey through the United States’ educational system, and though I’ve prided myself on my cultural sensitivity and respect for all my students, reading his poems has made me question my skills as a teacher. Am I really as empathetic as I profess to be? What more could I have done to aid in the arduous language and cultural journey so many immigrants have taken, and what more could I be doing now, as so many innocent immigrants are given negative labels by those who have political power?
The brochure published for the Hood River County Reads program has this to say about Alejandro: “As an immigrant in the U.S., Alejandro learned how easily people can be ignored, unheard and unnoticed. Though not always the easiest of things to do, he learned that he needed to be honest and to use his voice and words to transform, heal, and take us places never thought imaginable.”
In his poem “Letter to My Future Children,” Alejandro writes:
I want to fill your smiles
With memories of what a man should be
I will wish we could always speak in your baby languages
I will give you hugs and poems as birthday presents
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