Making Meaning

Entry #4:
     My husband has family that lives in San Luis, the oldest town in Colorado.  The majority of the residents are of Hispanic origin, and most people speak Spanish even if English is their first language.  Although I love the people and the beautiful scenery, I always feel a little bit like an outsider when we visit, mainly because I do not speak Spanish.  I am unable to participate in some of the side conversations around the campfire or by the river, and I feel inferior at times.  My strategy is to smile and nod; occasionally, they will speak "Spanglish" or one of the cousins will translate for me, and I am able to laugh along with them.
     When we went to my favorite Mexican restaurant in the San Luis valley last weekend, I picked up one of the complimentary newspapers at the front of the restaurant.  It was a small Hispanic newspaper called "La Voz Bilingue." The article on the front page was about the San Luis Valley and the declining of family farms.  I recognized one of the names, Joe Gallegos, a farmer-rancher in San Luis and an old friend of "Uncle Ronnie's" who is also a farmer in the valley.  I was interested in reading about his farm and, with this assignment in mind, I tried to do so in Spanish.
     I do not speak Spanish.  I studied French in high school and lived in France for summer.  Some of the words in French are similar to Spanish.  So, I first searched for words in the article that I recognized like: del sol, las Montanans de Sangre de Cristo, familias, frio, decision, and amigos.  Still unable to make any sense of the article, I asked my husband who took Spanish in high school (and knows just enough to get by when we visit San Luis) to help figure out some of the words and sentences.  It would have been impossible to read without the English translation which I referred back to while trying to decipher the Spanish article.  I did make an effort, but in the end, it was the English translation that I needed to make meaning.
     Attempting to reading a text in a Spanish was an eye-opening experience.  The words that come to mind to describe this particular experience are: confusing, exhausting, and frustrating.  I didn't like it, but I learned a few things about what it must be like for ELLs who are asked to read in an unfamiliar language every day in school.  I imagine that they search for words they know, ask a friend for help, and, if given the opportunity, choose to read in their native language.  It is difficult to break the code of another language without appropriate and significant support.  Many ELLs are asked to break the code, figure it out, and create meaning for themselves.  They suffer in silence and are made to feel inferior, not around the campfire or by the river, but in classrooms all across the country.