A
Japanese woman
formed a circle with her index finger and thumb, raising her remaining
digits in a spread formation. She was explaining to another student,
a Colombian man, how to gesture that "Everything is OK."
Though she performed the hand movement with no problems, she struggled
to elucidate the instructions in English.
The task was made more
difficult because the man was blindfolded with a thick scarf,
wrapped around his head by the teacher.
"See. It's easy
to do, but hard to describe," the teacher, Richard Farigua,
said in a bass-heavy tone. He used the blindfold to force his
class of 14 recent immigrants to be as explicit as they could
be when speaking English.
The class shouted advice
to the other students; their Spanish, Turkish and Korean accents
coloring their English. The cacophany of international voices
is a familiar sound at the New York Language Center, located in
Woodside, Queens.
Noise in Queens is
usually associated with the rumbling, elevated No. 7 train, blaring
car horns and zooming airplanes arriving and departing from the
borough's two airports. But the 2 million residents, 46.1 percent
of whom were born outside the United States, according to the
2000 Census, speak 138 languages, representing almost every part
of the globe. Thus, Queens is the nation's most ethnically diverse
county and home to a non-stop linguistic circus.
Of the 1,120,455 people
whom the census recorded as having English as a second language,
43.3 percent use Spanish. The rest is composed of other Indo-European
languages, Asian and Pacific Island, African, Arabic and Hebrew.
The Woodside center
is one of five locations throughout New York City. For over 15
years they have been teaching classes to the waves of immigrants
that enter this city each day. Classes are offered every day of
the week, ranging in difficulty from basic to conversational English.
For 50 hours of instruction, the cost is $150.
Many
newcomers to the United States believe it is crucial to speak
and understand English for educational and economic advancement.
Yet the challenges of learning English in a city where so many
other languages are used often go unnoticed by those born and
raised to speak only English.
"It's difficult
in the beginning," Mariuxi Jaramillo, a native of Ecuador,
said about communicating in New York City. "So many people
don't speak the language." In addition to taking classes,
Jaramillo, 26, said she learns English by watching television
and conversing with friends.
Fellow Ecuadorian,
Angel Zumba, who came to the United States knowing only Spanish,
pratices with his sister-in-law, who only knows how to speak English.
Zumba, 24, said, "If I make mistakes, she corrects me. And
now she knows Spanish because I teach her."
Like Jaramillo, he
watches television for extra instruction. "I put on the Bill
Cosby Show, he said. "Their English is clear. I can understand
that."
Farigua,
a teacher at the center for four years, said his effectiveness
stems from his cheerful classroom demeanor and booming, radio-announcer
voice, which keeps students, "motivated and awake."
Farigua, who also taught
English in Turkey and Colombia, said he tries to make the atmosphere
as comfortable as possible. For example, with the blindfold exercise,
he asked students to describe gestures particular to their native
countries. "I do this in order to get them to relate language
to their own lives."
A colleague of Farigua's,
Scott Helfgotti, said, "In New York, not everybody speaks
the same English," referring to the numerous variations used
by the city's foreign-born population, as well as the distinct
dialects often heard in Brooklyn and the Bronx by New York natives.
"I encourage students
to make American friends, go to museums, talk about baseball,"
Helfgotti, who has taught English for 11 years, said. "That's
how I try to get them assimilated to New York."
The two teachers disagreed
on the difficulty of learning English in a linguistically diverse
environment. Helfgotti said that newcomers do not always have
the incentive to learn English because they can "close themselves
off from English-speaking people by living in ethnic enclaves,"
such as Woodside and Jackson Heights in Queens.
Farigua's view was
that "With so many languages, the only way to communicate
is with the English language."
 |
| Teacher
Richard Farigua blindfolds a student from Taiwan. |
|
Photo:
Sean Alfano
|
Teenage
immigrants in Queens face another set of obstacles when learning
English."The English you learn in the streets is different
from what you learn in school," said Max Chan, a 17-year-old
born in China, now living in Jackson Heights, Queens. Chan's friend,
David Mercado, from Bolivia, agreed with this assessment.
Referring to U.S.-born
teenagers he knows, Mercado said, "They called me 'Yo' or
'Dude,' but name is David." Shrugging his shoulders he said,
"I didn't get it."
Eventually Mercado,
also 17, understood the street slang and further bolstered his
English skills through his delivery job with The New York Times.
"If it's interesting, I read it," Mercado said of the
articles.
Chan saw English as
important to his livelihood in New York City, but seemed resigned
to the idea that it was a language he would never master.
Smoothing his pensive-looking
face with his hand, Chan concluded that, "I will never learn
the whole English vocabulary. It will always be my second language."
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