It happens every
time, I’m sure. But this was our night to see it. As two men rap six short
words, a Broadway show is drawn to a halt mid-song by the audience’s response; actors
and orchestra wait out the cheers before continuing.
My wife and I were celebrating our
daughters’ birthdays (16 and 13) by taking them to see Hamilton, the smash-hit show whose soundtrack they’d been listening
to for many months. Who would think that the perfect Sweet 16 gift would be a
hip-hop Broadway show about a Founding Father?
Toward the end of Act One, the cast
performs the electrifying song “Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down),” in
which they depict the Revolutionary War’s final conquest. When Alexander
Hamilton and Marquis de Lafayette meet on the battlefield, they can see that
victory is at hand. As they open the song, the two men use their shared experience
as outsiders to America (Hamilton hails from the British West Indies, Lafayette
from France) to explain their success. “We’re finally on the field. We’ve had
quite a run,” Hamilton says. Lafayette responds with one word: “Immigrants,” to
which Hamilton joins him in rapping, “We get the job done.”
That’s when the audience starts roaring.
They know that when Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote these six words, he wasn’t just
talking about the immigrants of 1781; he was, of course, arguing that
immigrants are still getting the job done in America as we speak.
Debates over immigration have
dominated American discourse throughout the past year, and it doesn’t seem to
be letting up. As I review the news accounts of our immigration debates, I
think back to my experiences as an educator. In my 19 years as a full-time
teacher, I’ve worked with many immigrant students. Some were in my classroom
because their parents had fled violence in countries such as Kosovo, Ethiopia,
Venezuela and Afghanistan. Others were there because their parents were hoping
for better opportunities than they had in Vietnam, Nigeria, South Korea, the
Dominican Republic or Haiti. Still others were here because their parents had taken
job opportunities, moving their families here from China, France, Egypt or
Canada.
I’ve taught a Dreamer who went from
the top of her high school class to babysitting because she couldn’t apply for
admission to college. I’ve taught a teen who worked 12-hour graveyard shifts at
a parking garage before coming to school. I’ve welcomed students into my school’s
Community Service Club from Haiti, Iran, Venezuela and China, all of them
looking for opportunities to serve. In recent months, I’ve watched my service
club students volunteer their time at a program that serves refugee families,
most of them from Syria and Iraq.
Whenever a student from a new
country arrives in my high school in central Jersey, inquisitive American
students pepper that student with questions: What was it like growing up in
your native country? What’s the difference between there and here? How are you
doing with schoolwork? Have you been to Manhattan? When it started snowing one
December day a few years back, a student of mine from Egypt told me she’d never
seen snow before. Without hesitation, the entire class led her outside, where
she looked upward, spread out her arms and caught all the snowflakes she could.
I think the American students are so
eager to learn from their immigrant peers because they understand something fundamental
about this country: Immigration is a sign of our nation’s overall health. When
people want to come to America, it means that our country is doing some things
right. It means that the freedoms, economic opportunities and sense of
community we’ve built are inspiring people from around the world. It means that
our tradition of welcoming others has built us a level of global respect that is
beyond measure. It means that for every individual who takes advantage of
America, there are countless others who are giving America even more than they’ve
gotten. So when you see a new student from another country in your class, it’s
a sign that you were blessed with your place of birth. And you’re willing to
share that blessing with others.
This is the way it’s gone in this
New World for four centuries now. I hope that as we debate the specifics of
immigration laws, we find a way to hold onto this idea, which a certain copper
statue in New York Harbor tries to remind us of every day.
When the audience finishes cheering
for that line in Hamilton, the song
resumes. “So what happens if we win?” Hamilton asks. “I go back to France,”
Lafayette says. “I bring freedom to my people if I’m given the chance.”
And that’s the other thing about
immigration: When people have the chance to see America up close, it also can give
them the motivation to bring that torch of liberty back home. But when we wall
ourselves off from the world, that chain reaction becomes impossible.
So as the government debates
continue on, I’m going to follow the instincts of my students, the words of Hamilton, and the observations I’ve made
over two decades of teaching.
It really is true. Immigrants, and those who welcome them: Together, we get
the job done.
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