The day before our first day of
class, there was an article by Patricia Leigh Brown on the front page of the
New York Times entitled, “Young U.S. Citizens in Mexico Brave Risks for
American Schools” (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/17/us/young-us-citizens-in-mexico-up-early-to-learn-in-the-us.html?pagewanted=3&sq=mexico&st=cse&scp=6).
I found this article to be particularly arresting, and when we had our
discussion on homeland, I couldn’t
help but think what that word must mean for the students Brown discusses. These
students are American citizens whose families have moved back to Mexico for the
cheaper cost of living, but who cross the border daily to attend American
schools. Referred to as “transfronterizos,” they rent apartments, use fake
addresses, or have a relative appointed their legal guardian (among other things)
so as to sneak their way into school. If they are caught, they are kicked out.
In “Violent Belongings,” Amy
Kaplan’s first definition of homeland, the one she provides before she delves
into the tensions that evolve from the fluidity of the word in today’s lexicon,
is homeland as a place of origin, as a birthright. She then asks us to think of
those who consider America their home, but not their homeland. Applied to
Brown’s article, it would seem that for some students, Mexico is their home,
but America is their homeland. By this I mean that students, and this is an
oversimplification and a person interpretation, see an education in America as
their birthright. Conservatives point out that these families aren’t paying taxes
and therefore should be excluded from the American school system. I’m not
convinced by this argument; however, I have difficulty articulating my views on
this issue. My feelings lie somewhere between the idea that America should see
education as an obligation to its citizens and the idea that discrimination
against students crossing the border is just as wrong as racism and classism in
general, both in the classroom and out.
No comments:
Post a Comment