Again, the topic of "Young immigrants adjusting to life in the US" leaps out of the classroom and onto the pages I'm reading (or, in this case, listening to.) Several groups of 11/12 graders made videos that focused on this theme. The theme is also the central vein of American Street, by Ibi Zoboi, which I just finished tonight and feel rather bowled over by, emotionally.
The novel tells the story of Fabiola, a Haitian teenager who moves in with her cousins and aunt Jo in Detroit. Her mother is not so lucky at immigration, and is kept in a detention center in New Jersey.
The book has given me a whole new appreciation for the benchmarks of success for a teenage immigrant. As she comes to master slang turns of phrase, or use curse words appropriately, or insult other girls who give her beef, or, of course, have a serious boyfriend who kisses her in public, she feels better and better about her status. She feels, after having her identity rather yanked from underneath her, as though these accomplishments represent her new, emergent American identity.
I wonder about the new arrivals who feels this same way. When they can say "Oh heeelllllll no!" with the right amount of attitude, or can turn to each other in amazement and say, "Tell me about it bro!" When they can sing along to American hip hop, or can return someone's insult with one that doesn't get mixed up. At one point, Fabiola goes head to head with another girl in the school yard, and before they come to blows, Fabiola says "Get my cousin's mouth out of your name!" This sends her adversaries into fits of laughter. Resolute, she tries again: "Get my cousin's name out of your mouth!" and this time, she gets it.
The book also made me appreciate how much my students understand, even if they are not speaking much. Fabiola's first person narrative conveys all of her contemplations, calculations, reactions and hesitations, very few of which, at least during the first half of the book, does she articulate in speech.
At the end of the story an important character dies. I was disappointed when that happened, mostly because I didn't want this character to die, but also because I thought it was unrealistic and a little over the top. Then, as I walked back from the library where I had picked up the magazines they had taken out of circulation so I can put them in the class library, I thought more about it. I realized no, that's not unrealistic. It seems like a stretch because I'm white and it seems unlikely that an innocent person would get shot by the police. I don't think any person of color would find this ending unrealistic.
The interesting thing about this book is that it deals with many of the same themes as The Hate U Give, but the story ends with the key murder, rather than beginning with it. We learn almost nothing about the fall out from the murder in American Street - we get the characters' stories and the story's bulk before things go bad. Two very different ways to tell the story. Either you start with the bad event, and fill in the negative space, or you build up all these monumental characters and scenarios, then tear them down in a climactic, devastating scene. I have never been one for surprises, and I think I prefer the former.
The novel tells the story of Fabiola, a Haitian teenager who moves in with her cousins and aunt Jo in Detroit. Her mother is not so lucky at immigration, and is kept in a detention center in New Jersey.
The book has given me a whole new appreciation for the benchmarks of success for a teenage immigrant. As she comes to master slang turns of phrase, or use curse words appropriately, or insult other girls who give her beef, or, of course, have a serious boyfriend who kisses her in public, she feels better and better about her status. She feels, after having her identity rather yanked from underneath her, as though these accomplishments represent her new, emergent American identity.
I wonder about the new arrivals who feels this same way. When they can say "Oh heeelllllll no!" with the right amount of attitude, or can turn to each other in amazement and say, "Tell me about it bro!" When they can sing along to American hip hop, or can return someone's insult with one that doesn't get mixed up. At one point, Fabiola goes head to head with another girl in the school yard, and before they come to blows, Fabiola says "Get my cousin's mouth out of your name!" This sends her adversaries into fits of laughter. Resolute, she tries again: "Get my cousin's name out of your mouth!" and this time, she gets it.
The book also made me appreciate how much my students understand, even if they are not speaking much. Fabiola's first person narrative conveys all of her contemplations, calculations, reactions and hesitations, very few of which, at least during the first half of the book, does she articulate in speech. At the end of the story an important character dies. I was disappointed when that happened, mostly because I didn't want this character to die, but also because I thought it was unrealistic and a little over the top. Then, as I walked back from the library where I had picked up the magazines they had taken out of circulation so I can put them in the class library, I thought more about it. I realized no, that's not unrealistic. It seems like a stretch because I'm white and it seems unlikely that an innocent person would get shot by the police. I don't think any person of color would find this ending unrealistic.
The interesting thing about this book is that it deals with many of the same themes as The Hate U Give, but the story ends with the key murder, rather than beginning with it. We learn almost nothing about the fall out from the murder in American Street - we get the characters' stories and the story's bulk before things go bad. Two very different ways to tell the story. Either you start with the bad event, and fill in the negative space, or you build up all these monumental characters and scenarios, then tear them down in a climactic, devastating scene. I have never been one for surprises, and I think I prefer the former.
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