English tutor knows the past's tough times will continue

I tutor immigrants at Sacramento City College. Folks from all over the world are streaming into this college in California's Central Valley. They work as truck drivers, tile setters, restaurant help and security guards. Some get by on educational loans and grants or government benefits.

Experiences abroad left them skeptical of their own governments, but they share an unshakable optimism in our system. While most speak two or more languages, they know learning English is key to a better life. They all have an almost religious faith that the United States will hold on, work together and somehow come out on top.

When I explained to an Afghan refugee that Americans drink water from glasses, not bowls, she was genuinely impressed.

"In Afghanistan, in the villages," she told me, "the people drink water from bowls."

They make do with a single utensil, she said. Meanwhile, the average American takes for granted a wide selection of cups, bowls and plates.

When I explained to her there are people living at the edge of Sacramento in tents, we agreed that even the homeless are better off here. Even if the government isn't doing much about them, American society is still resilient enough to provide food, clothing and even medicine.

An Uzbek woman said she marvels at the quality and variety of vegetables on store shelves. She explained she survived her last five years in Tashkent living on a diet of bread and rice.

Apples or other fruit may have been on store shelves, but they were unaffordable. Russia had taken its textile industry and gone home. She estimated Tashkent has lost half its population of two million since 1991.

Compared to what she's seen, things are looking pretty good in this country.

Becoming an English tutor was far from voluntary. Twenty-five years ago, I made a decent living at a sawmill in northern California. The mill doesn't exist anymore. It's nothing but empty buildings, half-demolished with untied ropes flashing in the wind and weeds sprouting where we once parked our trucks.

Economic crisis has been a permanent condition in my life since that mill shut down. Learning to deal with financial problems is really only an extension of what I've been doing all along. I've picked daffodils, for minimum wage and no benefits, for a Dutch company in California. I've planted trees on Forest Service lands damaged by fire. I launched my own bakery when the dot-com boom was creating instant millionaires. I worked as a handyman for an apartment complex, again for minimum wage, without insurance and without even the suggestion of a retirement plan.

My job isn't making me rich. But it's a job, and there's a demand for my services. It will probably still be a viable job for at least this year and next. I will stay in school and probably graduate soon, but it's hard to plan ahead any farther.

As I've known for some time, there are no guarantees. As the immigrants have shown me, it all comes down to one's willingness to keep adapting. When I'm done at the community college level, I'll be ready for the next step: a four-year school where I'll receive professional-level training, perhaps as an English instructor.

All I can say for certain is I'll go where the work is.