Americans learn a new language? Zeut Alors!

Although it frightens me to say this, I have to be honest: I agree with Barack Obama.

Pardon me while I take a shower.

Speaking at a Powder Springs rally, the presumptive democrat party nominee said this:

You know, I don’t understand when people are going around worrying about, “We need to have English- only.” They want to pass a law, “We want English-only.”

Now, I agree that immigrants should learn English. I agree with that. But understand this. Instead of worrying about whether immigrants can learn English — they’ll learn English — you need to make sure your child can speak Spanish. You should be thinking about, how can your child become bilingual? We should have every child speaking more than one language.

You know, it’s embarrassing when Europeans come over here, they all speak English, they speak French, they speak German. And then we go over to Europe, and all we can say [is], “Merci beaucoup.”

The talking heads on the right are jumping all over this. Declaring English as the “official” language of the United States has been a big deal for some, and Obama seems to be against that.

To that I say: Big deal.

Ever since immigrants have been coming here, they’ve had to adopt and adapt. Scandanavians, Poles and Germans in the Midwest learned how to live here, adopting and adapting along the way. Irish, Italians and Jews adapted and adopted to American life shortly after landing at Ellis Island. Chinese and Japanese immigrants adapted to life on the west coast and soon lived the American dream. Hispanics are no different. While the first generation of immigrants will certainly not speak English, their children will, no matter what the talking heads in Washington decree.

Those criticizing Obama are off-base here. Rather than complain about his statement, they should continue to rail and pressure the government to enforce illegal immigration rules. The major difference between the most recent immigrants and those from the past is that Mexicans and central Americans don’t have to renounce their citizenships. Because of lax enforcement, they can come and go basically as they please, living in America, yet sending their paycheck and keeping their families at home. Enforce the law, and force immigrants to make a choice — renounce your citizenship and stay here, or go back.

The second half of Obama’s speech is more important. We have more control over our children than we do government. The way foreign languages are taught in this country is pathetic. It’s been understandable — until recently, the vast majority of Americans had no need to learn a new language. But, to use an old cliche, the world has gotten smaller. Fewer and fewer people can survive without interacting with people of different countries, cultures and language. It has been to our fortune that most of these people can speak passable English, because without that, we would be lost.

Personally, I speak a pathetic French. I didn’t start learning until high school (choosing Francais mainly because I was one of 3 boys in a class of 25). Because foreign language was a requirement in college (but not English, ironic for a journalism program), I eeked through 4 more semesters, enjoying French 102 so much, I took it twice. I still can’t conjugate etre or avoir to save my life. Current students may have better options, but it’s still not an important part of our studies. Instead, students are taught how to take standardized tests, conflict resolution and other inanities. But that’s another rant for another day.

Obama is right on this one — our children need to be bilingual much more than we do. Their colleagues and bosses may very well speak German, French, Mandarin or (dare I say?) Spanish. A global marketplace is inevitable. We are making our kids less and less marketable by ignoring this fact, and hiding in our insular thoughts.

Of course, if Mr. Obama was serious about this, he’d be blasting teacher’s unions and the public school systems that are guilty of squelching new ideas. But in the meantime, those on the right complaining about his statements are coming off no better, reinforcing the xenophobic stereotype the left so loves to deploy.

A belated thought on the 4th

Writing about the Peachtree reminded me of something that happened later on the 4th.

Like most Americans, my gf and I set out to take in the fireworks. We were fortunate not to have to deal with the mess that is Stone Mountain Park. Rather, our church has an impressive fireworks display, complete with a concert, concessions, and all that good stuff. Friendly crowd, easy parking, good security and best of all — we were home in less than 30 minutes.

My part of Atlanta is becoming more and more diverse. Over the years, it’s gone from a majority white, rural area to the suburbs — African-Americans first, now Hispanics, Indians, Koreans, and Southeast Asians are calling Henry County home. It has its share of growing pains to be sure (at least we’re not Clayton County), but overall, I think the vast majority of the ethnic populations are blending in quite well.

But I digress. Sitting right in front of us was a large family from Southeast Asia. Like the rest of us, they were having a great time. Mom and Dad trying to keep the kids corralled, while the kids came back every five minutes to beg for a couple more dollars for some sugary snack.

But when the fireworks program began, something happened. The dad stood up and cheered. The presentation started with a color guard and a list of local men and women serving in the military. Dad was the loudest one cheering and clapping. He urged his kids to scream “USA!” and “America #1!” Like all kids, they halfheartedly did it to please Dad and tried not to look too embarrassed.

It hit me as I was watching this man. I thought to myself, “This guy loves this country more than most of us natives do.”

I know nothing of this man nor his circumstances. I can guess that he left an impoverished country to find a better life for him and his family, making a go of it, in this little notch of the country. He probably grew up in poverty unheard of here in the United States. And he most likely saw his government brutally oppress its people. So he left. And he is so grateful for the chance and freedom that America respresents.

Too often, we look at what’s wrong with this country as opposed to what’s right. And that’s normal — we don’t know any different. The vast, vast majority of us never lived outside U.S. borders for any length of time. We only know what we see on vacation or what the news tells us.

When we visit that quaint French village, we romanticize how great it is that people can lounge about for lunch, take a whole month off for vacation, and live more simply. We don’t see the unemployment rate or the strikes that cripple the French on almost a daily basis.

We listen to the news decry the latest suicide bombing or corruption complaints in Iraq, neglecting to see the good works being done by our military.

We don’t see all we have to be thankful for, because good news doesn’t sell. And good news isn’t exciting. After all, who cares about the couple down the street who has been married for 40 years? Their neighbors who call the cops every other day and have numerous affairs are much more interesting.

So to that man sitting near me on the fourth: Thank you. Thank you for reminding me that we live in the greatest nation in the world. And best of luck to you and your family. I may never see you again, but I won’t forget the lesson you taught me.

My First Peachtree Road Race

America celebrated her independence six days ago. My gf and I, along with more than 55,000 other people, woke up way too early for the 39th run of the Peachtree Road Race.

For me, it was a pretty big deal. This time last year, I was 250 pounds and on my way to an early death. My doctor said I was pre-diabetic. My back pain was worsening, and an old knee injury made it almost impossible to run much. I had to make a change. I wanted to see my son grow up. I wanted to see him graduate. I wanted to see him become the man I hope he will become. The last thing I wanted to do was deprive him of a father thanks to something I could control.

So I started watching what I ate. I went to the gym. I yo-yoed. Dropped a few pounds here, but nothing major. In November, I “won” a free month with an Atlanta Boot Camp company in a silent auction. I quickly realized why I was the only bidder. I had to wake up at 5:30 in the morning, four days a week, and basically exercise until I dropped. As a former high school football player (albeit a bad one), it was embarrassing on the first morning. On their one-mile run test, I couldn’t finish. I stopped twice, and wheezed across the finish line over 13 minutes. It was pathetic.

But the early mornings paid off. In just two weeks, I was able to run the whole mile, and broke 10 minutes. I went to Boot Camp through winter until March. Honestly, the early mornings were a bit too much, and while Boot Camp was great for my cardiovascular health, the weight training wasn’t there. I’ve never had much of an upper body, and for once in my life, wanted my t-shirts to be tight around the shoulders, not the belly.

Some of my rugby teammates worked out at a place called Crossfit. So I decided to check it out. At first, it was incredibly intimidating. The facility is an old converted warehouse that looks like a scene from a low-grade boxing movie. No A/C, no lockers. Just a bunch of people in hella good shape. After the toughest workout in my life, I was hooked.

Three months later and my body has completely changed. My t-shirts fit now, in fact I dropped from an XL into an L. My old size 38 pants don’t fit; now I’m breaking out 34s. I have a bicep, and my gf admires my abs now!

But the Peachtree still intimidated me. After all, we’re talking about Cardiac Hill and all that. Since Crossfit incorporates cardio in the workout with weights, I stopped running. In fact, since March, I’ve run at most 1.5 miles per day — and those days are few and far between. Could I handle the full 10k? I still wasn’t sure.

My gf volunteered at the finish line, so we had to get downtown early. MARTA was (amazingly) efficient. I got to my group around 7:30 in the morning. Unfortunately, I was in group 8 (of 9), so I got a chance to chill out for almost 2 hours.

The wait was worth it. The first half of the run breezed by. It was mostly flat or downhill through Buckhead.
I didn’t have a watch, but I swear I hit the 3 mile mark in around 20 minutes. Before Crossfit, a 5k was my max. During the Peachtree, I wasn’t even breathing hard. Cardiac Hill was the first big obstacle, and it didn’t disappoint. I did motor up the hill all right. The second hill going past Spring Street? Not so much. I had to walk up half of it. The last big hill got me too — I walked for about 2 or 3 minutes for that one.

I’m not sure how long it took me to finish. I was somewhere under an hour, but not by much. But I did it. And I’m not looking back. I feel great, I look good (if I do say so myself) and I’m here to stay.

Anyone who is reading this who is in the same spot I was in last year — I’m here to tell you that you can do it. It is possible. Believe in yourself, set goals and be the person you can be.

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