One Nation Divided

By Linda O'Connell

Illegal immigration issues are a huge topic of great concern in America. The side on which one stands divides or unites us. I am conflicted on the issue, and I am not certain that there are any clear cut solutions, despite my wavering opinions.

Residents of Valley Park, Missouri, a sleepy little town west of St. Louis are up in arms. Local legislation that would impose a fine on anyone who employs or rents to undocumented immigrants, has been repealed. Routing out the illegal immigrants has pushed the hot buttons of compassionate, caring individuals --- and they stand firmly in their beliefs on both sides of the issue.

Perhaps the adage, with age comes wisdom, is true. I had an older neighbor once who imparted her knowledge and wisdom to me when I was a young mom. Each evening we would stroll around our city block. She had been a war bride in the 1940’s and met her soldier husband in her hometown in Germany. She immigrated to the United States where she attained citizenship, and raised a family. But she left a huge chunk of her heart in the Rhineland. She frequently talked about her country and the family she left behind. She also spoke of tyranny and tolerance.

One evening we noticed a moving van parked down the street. As we approached, we saw that the family was African-American, the first black family to move into our segregated neighborhood. The woman said to me, “I don’t know why people make such a big deal out of color. People are just people. Ethnicity doesn’t make one bit of difference when you’re under five years old or over seventy-five. When you’re in your formative years, all you want to do is play and eat and sleep; doesn’t matter what color the kid is next to you. People are just people. It’s the way you treat one another that matters at that age. When you’re old and falling apart, it doesn’t matter what color the person is who feeds you or takes you to the toilet. It’s the way the person treats you.”

That statement has had a profound impact on me ever since. An elderly relative, who had been a racist all of her life, entered a nursing home last year. She receives quality, loving care from a devoted African-American nurse, and they have developed a fondness for one another. I can guarantee you it wouldn’t have happened years ago.

Our inner city school has a diverse ethnic population. Recently I received a new student from Thailand into my preschool class. I listened to a group of children discussing the new girl. One of the children said, “I think she is Chinese like me.”

“No, she is maybe from my country. Her hair is black like my hair,” said a little girl from Eritrea, Africa. Another child chimed in, “I know! She is Vietnamese; her eyes look like mine.”

I sat quietly and listened as the children continued their debate. It reminded me of times I have been in group situations. I attend educational seminars and I also facilitate at these events. I begin by asking teachers to observe other people in the room for a few minutes, and then I ask them to share what they have discovered. Invariably they will do a head count and tell me how many people are in attendance. Typically, one by one they will begin to dissect the group by ethnicity, gender, age, hair color, even clothing. They seem confused when I smile and remain silent. I do not respond until the last observation is voiced. They are amazed when I make my own observations. “You are all human beings, all or most of you have hair, and you have eyes with which to see my materials. All of you have ears with which to listen intently and learn something that you might impart to others. You are all able to speak, ask questions and share your information with me. Every single one of you have feelings that can be hurt or bolstered by what I say and do as your group leader.” They nod in agreement; most understand that I am trying to demonstrate the profound effect each of us has on others. I ask them to ponder a question; why is it that when we walk into a group, we immediately see our differences? The answer is simple; it is human nature to be a bit egocentric and ethnocentric. I remind them to treat others as they would want to be treated - with respect and compassion.

I remembered the day I attended my grandson’s preschool graduation. The children pledged allegiance to the flag and sang a patriotic song. A nice gesture, perhaps a policy instituted after 9/11, not necessarily part of a typical preschool curriculum, I thought to myself. I wondered exactly how much the youngsters understood as they belted out unfamiliar phrases: “My Country ‘T is of Thee, sweet land of liberty, let freedom ring.”

My reverie was interrupted by a verbose child in my own classroom who said, “You guys are all wrong! I know what she is; she’s JUST a girl.”

If only we could all see one another as just a boy or girl, just a man or woman. After all, people are people. It’s not skin color, ethnicity or religion that makes one bad or good; it’s their actions.

Now, I completely understand why my grandson’s teacher taught her students the Pledge of Allegiance and a patriotic song. We do live in one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all. As Americans practice their constitutional rights to freedom of expression we unite on different sides of the immigration issue. Our country - land of the free and home of the brave - stands divided. Our government needs to get some things straightened out. In the meantime, we should all try to treat others as we want to be treated.

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