I really enjoyed “The Danger of a Single Story” by Chimamanda Adichie, both as a lover of literature and history fascinated by the stories of others, and as a documentarian of my students during the last few weeks. As I watched my students and noticed things about them, I enjoyed learning about their stories, beyond the “single story” of immigrants.
Oftentimes, it is the people in power, Adichie explains, who get to tell the stories. Nkali, or power, determines “whose stories are told, who tells them, and when they are told,” and tell those stories as if that story is “the definitive story” about that person or group. We must, she says, instead have “balanced stories” that show “both sides.” As a teacher, even if I do not always feel like it, I have a lot of power. I determine grades based on what they earn according to their mastery of a skill, but in theory, teachers could inflate or deflate grades based on their opinion of a student. A teacher’s words can build or break a student’s confidence. If I were to see my English learners with a single story, it could reduce their confidence about their abilities. Similarly to Adichie’s derision of the western view of Africa as “waiting to be saved by a kind white person,” I am determined not to take that view of my students.
Like Ms. Adichie, I think many people “bought into the ‘abject immigrant’ single story” of Mexicans coming to America. Some of my students do face poverty and struggle. It would be easy to feel pity for them, as Adichie “felt sorry” for a poor family she knew in Nigeria. But there is so much more to my students than their poverty or their halting English, and it would be wrong to present an incomplete story of them. (Or, in some cases, an incorrect one: not all of my students are Mexican immigrants, a misrepresentation Adichie is right to correct; and not all of my students are impoverished, either.) They are not victims, but agents. Sure, I can and will help them, but not because they are helpless; I give them the tools they need to grow so that they can eventually succeed independently.
I am amazed at my students’ tenacity, at their artistry. They came to another country, some of them without much knowledge of English, some of them without their parents! They come to school every day. Many of them work harder than some of my native-English-speaking students. They are by turns serious and funny; frustrated and victorious. They each have their dreams. They enjoy dancing, or singing, or drawing. They are curious and creative. They are so much more than a single story.
Like Ms. Adichie, I think many people “bought into the ‘abject immigrant’ single story” of Mexicans coming to America. Some of my students do face poverty and struggle. It would be easy to feel pity for them, as Adichie “felt sorry” for a poor family she knew in Nigeria. But there is so much more to my students than their poverty or their halting English, and it would be wrong to present an incomplete story of them. (Or, in some cases, an incorrect one: not all of my students are Mexican immigrants, a misrepresentation Adichie is right to correct; and not all of my students are impoverished, either.) They are not victims, but agents. Sure, I can and will help them, but not because they are helpless; I give them the tools they need to grow so that they can eventually succeed independently.
I am amazed at my students’ tenacity, at their artistry. They came to another country, some of them without much knowledge of English, some of them without their parents! They come to school every day. Many of them work harder than some of my native-English-speaking students. They are by turns serious and funny; frustrated and victorious. They each have their dreams. They enjoy dancing, or singing, or drawing. They are curious and creative. They are so much more than a single story.