About

“We don’t want our daughters to live in darkness,” the woman declared, “like we do.”

It was a hot afternoon in the rural village of Beko-Sokoro, Mali. The villagers had gathered under a cluster of trees, elders seated, children playing in the shade. My colleague and I were there to finalize a “covenant” between our NGO and the village for the building of a new school.

Before signing, we asked the villagers to commit to educating equal numbers of boys and girls, a request that defied tradition. The women spoke out overwhelmingly in favor of giving their daughters this gift they had been denied. The men – some more reluctantly than others – followed their lead. One by one, the villagers lined up to “sign” the covenant – most with inked thumbs on paper. Like 74% of Malian adults, these villagers were illiterate.

In Mali, I learned that education isn’t just personal – it is inherently political. These villagers transacted within the global economic structure at an incredible disadvantage – selling their cotton to multinational processing plants without the ability to read, write or do arithmetic. Educational access would give their children a chance to play on a more level playing field, revealing – in high relief – education’s power to transform individual lives as well as begin to chip away at systemic injustices on a local and global scale.

Back in the States, I saw education’s transformative power when teaching ESL to Mexican immigrants at night school through a local community college. Despite busy days juggling low-paying jobs and household duties, these students were incredibly motivated. Every night they showed up eager to work, knowing full well that language was the key to citizenship and success in their new country.

Seeing the impact of my teaching on students’ lives is why I do what I do. Furthermore, being a language and culture mediator comes naturally to me – it is inherent to who I am. Born in Italy to an American mother and Italian father, I have been bilingual and bicultural from the start. When my family relocated to the US, I became an 8-year-old anthropologist, cataloging the differences between the Italian culture I knew, and the American culture I was learning.

My immigrant experience has allowed me to bring a deep sense of empathy into the classroom. I understand the process of adjusting to a new language and culture because I have lived through it myself. Whether teaching English, Spanish, or Italian, I am keenly aware that I am introducing students not just to grammar and vocabulary, but a new reality: a culture, its mores, its customs. This process, though sometimes challenging, is beneficial on both an individual and societal level. Removing conceptual “blinders” and opening to an understanding of the “other” is extremely valuable in a world where cross-cultural ignorance often leads to intolerance and, sadly, conflict. Once we begin to explore others’ languages and cultures, fear is often replaced by understanding – an appreciation of both differences and commonalities. As Marie Curie stated, “Nothing is to be feared, it is only to be understood.”