choices

Teaching ESL to refugees always gives me lots of things to ponder. Tonight, I'm considering the options I have available to me in life. This isn't going to turn into a liberal white guilt post, promise...just food for thought.

Right now I live in, shall we say, a neighborhood in transition. I live here because it was my choice, not because I was born here and never left or something. When I needed to rent a room this summer, I looked for somewhere cheap that would let me sign a lease despite my "unemployed" status. Plus, I wanted to experience a new part of the city, and I thought it would be cool to live in a more diverse area. But I didn't have to live here, and I don't have to stay. So why do I feel the need to pat myself on the back every time we practice writing our addresses in class and I get to write down the same ZIP code as most of my students? Between work and having a social life, I've hardly spent any time getting acquainted with my actual neighborhood, despite my fantasies of knowing all my multicultural neighbors' names.

The class I teach is for very basic beginners, so their English skills aren't exactly on the level where we can have philosophical discussions. However, I did notice that they seemed shocked to find out I don't have a car! I wonder why - is it because they perceive me as a rich American who should, by definition, have private transportation? Is it because they all have cars and think I'm odd? Who knows. I did pat myself on the back again for possibly putting a crack in their stereotypes about me/Americans. But why? I could afford a car if I wanted one, but Matt and I are planning to be a one-car family, and he pretty much drives me anywhere I want to go now or lets me borrow his car anyway. Plus, let's not forget the fact that I read English easily, have internet access practically anywhere I go, and know how to navigate the King County Metro website to plan all my public transit trips. So although I don't technically own a car, I have easy access to transportation while still maintaining my car-less moral high ground.

I'm reading a book called The Blue Sweater by Jacqueline Novogratz. The subtitle is, "Bridging the gap between the rich and the poor in an interconnected world." It's an excellent book about rethinking international development strategies based on business principles rather than donations, recognizing the power in the segments of society often overlooked or discounted by the "experts." In her journeys, she's also dealt with the same ideas of choices and privilege, except they were a lot more intense for her when she was pretty much run out of town in Côte d'Ivoire for being an outsider. Even in Rwanda where she felt like she fit in a little better, there was always the option for her to pack up and go when she had a new project, or just wanted a break. I need to be reminded that most people of the world don't live like that.

At the same time, I'm not saying other people are stuck in their present circumstances. I can look at my students for examples of individuals who made a change. If they were living in a refugee camp, they had to pass through a lot of hoops to wind up in my class tonight. They had to make a choice to attend their immigration interview, to get on a plane, to fly to a new country. Maybe the alternative was so horrendous that it didn't seem like much of an option at the time, but that doesn't change the fact that they did have choices.

Even though I can get overwhelmed by all the options at my disposal, I'm grateful to be living a life that includes them.