WOMN brings readers into the places the headlines never reach.
Come sit in Lorraine’s classroom and watch a teacher make the decision to teach with Google Translate so that her students can read and write in the language that makes them feel most comfortable, since nowhere else in their state feels safe.
Lorraine cannot control what ICE may do outside her classroom. She can control what happens inside it. By the end, the lesson is about what one adult can do to make safety feel real.
I am and independent author, self-employed and working full-time to interview women, research what happened, and preserve the stories the headlines left behind. I intend to bring this book into the world the same way Minnesota responded to ICE: grassroots, heart-driven, and sustained by ordinary people showing up for one another. Upgrade to paid and help us bring this book, and this message into the world.
“Miss P, English so hard.”
Lorraine looks at her student and instantly makes a blanket decision about her classroom that she would apply for the rest of the school year.
“You know what?” she says, looking her student right in the eye, and then she pauses before saying anything more. This kid had just told her that English was hard, and here she was, talking back to her in English. That just doesn’t feel right.
“Un Momento.” Lorraine holds up one finger and fakes her way through the two word Spanish phrase with a terrible American accent. Then she grabs her phone and frantically types into Google translate.
One of Lorraine’s Latine students looks up at her with a paper and pen in hand
Write in a language that makes you feel comfortable because you deserve to be comfortable right now.
When she finishes typing, she links her Google Translate app on her phone to the loudspeaker in her classroom and projects the sentence to the whole class. A mechanical voice speaks in choppy Spanish, and the eight students in her class looked up at her from their desks.
“Do you mean it?” one asks.
Lorraine nods and types.
I’m gonna teach myself how to translate. But I’m gonna translate everything.
“Really?” another one adds.
Lorraine nods again. As she types into her phone again. She thinks to herself that this might be the stupidest decision she had ever made as a teacher. It doesn’t matter. She will figure it out. She has to make her classroom a place where these few kids can feel safe and supported.
She hits the loudspeaker button again and the mechanical voice speaks for her.
You want Spanish. I’ll give you Spanish. I don’t know any Spanish, but I’ll figure it out. We’re reading in Spanish. We’re writing in Spanish. I’m putting all my instructors in Spanish.
And then the classroom goes quiet. All eight kids sitting at their desks frantically writing.
Over the next ten minutes, one by one the students bring their papers to her desk, in less than half the time a similar assignment took them last week.
“I’m teaching with Google Translate now,” Lorraine hears herself telling her son at the dinner table that night.
Her son rolls his eyes.
“I have to do everything I can to stop these kids from disconnecting and disappearing.”
“You know you can’t control whether ICE disappears them, right?” Gavin says as he heaps a second helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate.
“I accidentally marked a kid absent yesterday, and he came in really upset today telling me that his dad got the text message of absence and he thought ICE had been to the school.”
“Mom, you’re doing so much for these kids. Don’t beat yourself up over a simple mistake,” Gavin says.
“I know, but I didn’t mean to mark him absent. I didn’t mean to create that harm in his life. I just feel so sorry,” she says while scraping the last of the mashed potatoes out of the bowl onto Gavin’s plate.
Gavin rolls his eyes again.
“At least I can make them feel like my classroom is a safe place.”
“Mom,” Gavin says in that annoyed teenage voice, “you are the safe space cuz you’re all about the safe space.”
Lorraine smiles and licks the mashed potatoes serving spoon.
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I am an independent, self-employed author working full-time to gather, research, and write these stories. There is no publishing house, newsroom, or institution funding the work. This project is structured the way Minnesotans built the response to ICE: from the ground up, with heart, trust, and ordinary people contributing what we can.
A paid subscription keeps me at the desk doing the work. It also adds your voice to the collective message carried by this story:
Our immigrant neighbors belong in our communities. They are part of our lives. When they are torn away, we all feel the wound.
I love you fiercely,
Thanks for giving a shit,
Teri Leigh 💜
This is why I love teachers.
This moved me deeply. Thank you.