Arrupe Center provides outlet for service

By Nicole Resz

For weeks Israel has struggled with the 'th' pronunciation. As many native Spanish speakers do, Israel tends to pronounce the 't-h' combo by saying 'da.'

"Da boll rolled into da street," he reads aloud.

"No, the ball rolled into the street," I say.

"Da boll rolled into da street," he says.

"No, the ball rolled into the street," I say again.

"Da boll," he says.

"The ball," I say.

"Da boll," he repeats.

"Noooo," I say. "It's thuh, thuh, like this." At this point I stick out my tongue and pronounce the word in ultra slow motion. "Thuuuuuuh," I say. "Stick out your tongue and say it."

"Oh, thuuuuh," he says, practically mocking my facial expressions.

"Yes, yes," I shout out. "Thuh, thuh."

To witness a child learn a new letter or say a new word is fantastic. But to see an adult learn a new word is absolutely fascinating. I played this little back and forth pronunciation game with most of the students at the Sacred Heart Community Service Center's adult English as a Second Language (ESL) class.

Like others in the class, I knew it was in Israel-the ability to pronounce the word correctly. But for the past couple weeks, I just let him slide by with 'da.' Maybe I didn't want to frustrate him. Maybe I was just lazy.

Whatever the reason, it was a bad decision on my part, and I regretted letting him get away with it more than once. This time, I refused to let it go.

It's not that I wanted his Spanish accent to go unnoticed. It wasn't that I wished he sounded exactly like me. It was that minutes before we began our reading excises, I had been speaking with a woman named Maricela.

Maricela is 45 and has lived in the states for three months. Her English is poor, but her vocabulary decent for never studying English before.

As we sat in the purple backed chairs that surround the small table near the window, Maricela's eyes began to tear as she told me about her trip to the supermarket earlier in the day.

All she needed was a loaf of bread for her three small children. So she took the bus to the store, with only $6 in her pocket, unsure of how much the bread would cost. After arriving at the supermarket, she went to the bread aisle and picked a loaf Wonder bread. Since no prices were marked, she stopped a clerk walking down the aisle to ask how much it would be.

Maricela simply held up the loaf, and shrugged her shoulders in an effort to inquire about the price. She simply did not know how to ask how much the bread cost. The clerk stood there irritated, unable to understand what Maricela needed.

"What? What? What do you want?" the clerk shouted, but Maricela did not know how to respond.

She merely held up the bread and muttered, "I want."

Shortly there after the clerk threw her hands up in the air and said, "I don't understand you," leaving Maricela in the aisle, discouraged and embarrassed.

"So now, I learn English," she said as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Maricela's experience is rather common, prompting those like her to take advantage of the free ESL classes offered in downtown San Jose. The adult ESL program at Sacred Heart Community Center is aimed at providing students with basic language skills so that they will be able to communicate at the simplest level possible.

Upon completion of the class, students should be able to make doctor appointments, speak with teachers and communicate with other people who may serve their children and families. The program consists of basic reading, writing and speaking comprehension lesson, intertwined with causal conversation exercises.

Though it may not discourage the students, the problem with ESL classes is that you must know a relatively good amount of English to learn anything in the first place. And the majority of these students know only the very basics. Nonetheless, students attend classes twice a week in an effort to learn the universal language, a language that they believe, will turn their lives around. Their determination is admirable; their enthusiasm, astonishing.

Once Israel learned how to enunciate the 'th' sound, he sat there repeating himself over and over again. "Thhhuh. Thhhuh. Thhhuh," he would say. In between the's, we began talking about our lives.

It turns out he is from Nayarid, Mexico, and came to the United States only two years ago. With him he brought his wife and two little girls. He is now 29 and works construction for a non-commercial company, which is a job he absolutely loves. Israel works eight hours every day, commuting an hour each way to Concord, and then attends adult education classes every night.

"I need to speak English," he said. "No English, no money."

But money isn't the only motivation he has for learning English.

"My daughters, they's in school, 7 and 5. And they say Daddy, you help with my homework. And I say, no, I can't, I no understand," he said.

Israel said that this upsets him and causes problems between him and his wife, who speaks English almost fluently, as she begs Israel to let her help him with his English.

"I get mad, I say, no, it's my problem, not your problem. So that's why I here."

Like Israel, Concepc

ion is eager to learn English so that she can get a better job. A small woman with dark hair, Concepcion is in her early 30s and dreams of someday being a secretary.

"I want to learn, I want a future," she said. "Plus, my kids, they won't speak the Spanish at home, and I no understand them. It's not good."

Most of the students at the center have stories that are similar to Israel's and Concepcion's. They all want better jobs and more money. They all need to communicate better with their children, who because of schooling here, refuse to speak Spanish at home. And they all have a determination and enthusiasm that is simply relentless.

Though their passion for learning seems an inherent part of who they are, they depend on volunteers like myself to improve their skills. Without volunteers, the teacher would have a class of 20 students, all of whom need individual attention.

It wasn't until the last day of volunteering however, that I actually understood how important I was to them.

As I said goodbye and turned to leave that last night, the group of people I had been working with stopped me and said thank you. Then they all used one of the little slang phrases I had taught them over the past few weeks.

"Check ya later dude," they said in unison.