Good Citizens
The doorbell rang, and I got up to answer my parents' door as they were out and about, looking for things to spend even more money on for their annual Super Bowl party.
I looked through the eyehole with a view of a fish-eye lens, a woman stood holding a clipboard, a solicitor. She wasn't dressed like a real-estate agent, and usually they would just leave a notepad with their best photo printed on it next to their info. She wasn't wearing jeans and her exterior wasn't rough, so she probably wasn't looking to see if my parents needed the yard re-done or a new roof.
I opened the door, and standing next to her was who I assumed was her daughter.
"Hi," I greeted slowly, with that caution we give to all strangers on our porch.
"Hello," she responded. After that she went into her brief spiel. She closed out her words with the point. "We would like you to sign to show your support of state legislation that ensures that our tax dollars do not go to illegals for things such as medical benefits, driver's licenses, and college grants."
I tilted my head, wondering if I heard her correctly. I glanced at her daughter, then back at the lady. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"
"Oh," she started and repeated her last sentence, using "a petition" in placement of "state legislation" and switching "benefits" and "licenses" in her list of examples.
I looked at the lady's daughter again, imagining what an interesting outing this must be for a kid in middle school. The main thing was I had heard her mother correctly.
I thought about if I signed that clipboard, and I even wondered how many had already signed it. If I did such a thing, I would disregard the experiences of my tata, what I call my grandfather. If I signed I would be betraying my 83 students and their families. I would be making their lives harder than they already have it. I felt 50% of me growing darker as I grew more upset. This lady was in a blue state. Governator or not, this is what Boxer and Feinstein represent, the former more to my liking than the latter. This is a state that has San Francisco, that still has hippies breeding hippies, naming them after natural things, like Sky and Mica. This is a place with many illegals taking the jobs that "citizens" don't want. I don't see an illegal alien trying to be mayor anywhere. I could not agree that Americans are of more importance than illegals, that we should be the only ones taken care of. If we are so strong and powerful, shouldn't we show care for those that need support? Besides, if kids come here from other countries, speaking a foreign language, learn English, and do well enough in our schools to beat out English only citizens for a college grant, I say more power to them.
I opened my mouth to speak. "I'm sorry, but I share a different view on that issue," came out.
"Oh," the lady said, and backed off the porch, her daughter following after her.
I closed the door, fuming inside. I was disgusted by what she was doing. I let out an expletive, for my parents weren't in the house. Why couldn't I tell the lady off? I thought. I could've argued my opinion. At least I could introduce her daughter to a different viewpoint than the one she is solely exposed to at home. Why didn't I stand up for my beliefs? I let loose another expletive as I thought of the answer my dad would give me, in words he has used since I was eleven: "It's called maturity."
I looked through the eyehole with a view of a fish-eye lens, a woman stood holding a clipboard, a solicitor. She wasn't dressed like a real-estate agent, and usually they would just leave a notepad with their best photo printed on it next to their info. She wasn't wearing jeans and her exterior wasn't rough, so she probably wasn't looking to see if my parents needed the yard re-done or a new roof.
I opened the door, and standing next to her was who I assumed was her daughter.
"Hi," I greeted slowly, with that caution we give to all strangers on our porch.
"Hello," she responded. After that she went into her brief spiel. She closed out her words with the point. "We would like you to sign to show your support of state legislation that ensures that our tax dollars do not go to illegals for things such as medical benefits, driver's licenses, and college grants."
I tilted my head, wondering if I heard her correctly. I glanced at her daughter, then back at the lady. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"
"Oh," she started and repeated her last sentence, using "a petition" in placement of "state legislation" and switching "benefits" and "licenses" in her list of examples.
I looked at the lady's daughter again, imagining what an interesting outing this must be for a kid in middle school. The main thing was I had heard her mother correctly.
I thought about if I signed that clipboard, and I even wondered how many had already signed it. If I did such a thing, I would disregard the experiences of my tata, what I call my grandfather. If I signed I would be betraying my 83 students and their families. I would be making their lives harder than they already have it. I felt 50% of me growing darker as I grew more upset. This lady was in a blue state. Governator or not, this is what Boxer and Feinstein represent, the former more to my liking than the latter. This is a state that has San Francisco, that still has hippies breeding hippies, naming them after natural things, like Sky and Mica. This is a place with many illegals taking the jobs that "citizens" don't want. I don't see an illegal alien trying to be mayor anywhere. I could not agree that Americans are of more importance than illegals, that we should be the only ones taken care of. If we are so strong and powerful, shouldn't we show care for those that need support? Besides, if kids come here from other countries, speaking a foreign language, learn English, and do well enough in our schools to beat out English only citizens for a college grant, I say more power to them.
I opened my mouth to speak. "I'm sorry, but I share a different view on that issue," came out.
"Oh," the lady said, and backed off the porch, her daughter following after her.
I closed the door, fuming inside. I was disgusted by what she was doing. I let out an expletive, for my parents weren't in the house. Why couldn't I tell the lady off? I thought. I could've argued my opinion. At least I could introduce her daughter to a different viewpoint than the one she is solely exposed to at home. Why didn't I stand up for my beliefs? I let loose another expletive as I thought of the answer my dad would give me, in words he has used since I was eleven: "It's called maturity."
posted by matty at 8:29 PM
2 Comments:
To play devil's advocate....
Do you think it's fair for illegal immegrant children to receive in-state tuition higher education simply because of their citizenship status when a naturalized/native citizen would have to pay out-of-state tuition to the same institution?
I play devil's advocate partially because I have a very strong opinion about higher education and the whole "equal playing field" anology and partially because I haven't had a really good discussion on the pros/cons of Social Darwinism in a really long time.
A few years ago I met a young woman from Australia who was in Washington for a summer internship. In her view, Americans had a weird way of dealing with politics. Either everything became confrontational or hostile, or, more often, people would "agree to disagree" and not debate the issues. She told me that in her experiences, people didn't avoid discussion or get angry. If she and her friends had opposing views on a subject, they would try to persuade one another and really debate the issue. She didn't see as much of that going on in the US.
I don't know whether what this woman said about Australia was true, but I think her take on the US is pretty accurate. A few weeks ago I tried to go to the inauguration (just wanted to see, but didn't even make it to the front of the security line), and the conversations I observed weren't productive debates. Things got personal, people refused to back up what they said, and most people just decided the people who disagreed with them were stupid. Maybe a big protest/rally isn't the best place for debate, but in day-to-day life I think it's often true. My best friend married a Mormon Republican from Orange County. He and I do not see eye-to-eye on much of anything politically, and so we just don't talk politics. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or not.
I think Jess's question (and the one posed by your neighborhood activist) is interesting. To me, the matter of in-state tuition for illegal immigrants is very different from whether other public benefits should be available. Should the children of illegal immigrants be able to attend public schools and receive medicare care? I think so. To me these seem to be (almost) basic human rights. A lot of the time, these parents are actually working in jobs where they pay taxes, and these taxes support the schools, the hospitals, and even programs like Medicaid (and these kids likely do not have access to other insurance). I guess my answer to Jess's question, then, would be that if these kids and their parents have been in a state for years, paying state taxes, I think they should be able to receive in-state tuition in that state.
Oh, and by the way, my cousin Sky now has a son named Willow. But he was born in Virginia, where our governor is a Democrat.
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