Published: 11.29.2006

Young interpreters act as 'bridge' for parents

18 percent of Arizonans speak no English, relying on children to guide them through society

CLAUDINE LoMONACO
Tucson Citizen

When Fiston Ahurukundo was a child in Rwanda, his mother led him on foot for days at a time as they tried to outrun the militias that eventually killed hundreds of thousands of people during the country's 1994 genocide.

Today, it is 18-year old Ahurukundo who guides his mother through their new lives in Tucson.

Ahurukundo, a senior at Sahuaro High School, learned English quickly as a refugee in Kenya and South Africa, where the family lived before gaining refugee status in the United States last year. He often translates for his mother, who has yet to master English.

"I'm glad I can help," said Ahurukundo, who recently translated for his mother in the hospital after a car accident. "I know that she doesn't have a stranger translating for her who could get the words twisted. It's a matter of trust."

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, 18.1 percent of residents in Arizona report speaking no English, the second-highest percentage in the country.

For the children of these folks, the role of "integrator" is a vital part of U.S. history, according to researchers.

"The kids are fulfilling a role that U.S. institutions don't provide for their families," said Jennifer Reynolds, a professor at the University of Southern California conducting long-term research of children of Spanish-speaking immigrants in Chicago.

The children act as a bridge, or "cultural broker," between society and their parents, who often work long hours and don't have the same opportunities as their children to learn English, she said.

"The history of labor in the United States segments adults by ethnic and linguistic groups," Reynolds said, "and so usually the only languages their parents hear are the languages they already speak."

She said children assume the role of interpreter because they are, developmentally speaking, able to learn the language more quickly and have the opportunity to go to school, where they learn not only English, but also are exposed to American culture and society.

"Young people are the ones who end up getting integrated into bureaucratic structures easier because of our history of an open, public education system," Reynolds said. "Part of the American dream was the melting pot, and schools became a major engine for that."

It can be a power shift in some ways.

"In Mexico, I was the one who always helped my children with their homework, because I was a teacher," said 40-year-old Sandra Gutierrez, who moved to Tucson from Mexico with her husband, an agricultural engineer, a year and a half ago. "Now, my children help me!"

As she spoke at her dining room table, her 10-year-old daughter, Kathia, occasionally chimed in, correcting her mother's pronunciation.

Sergio, Gutierrez's 15-year-old son, does most of the translating for his mother, and recently filled out an application to purchase a home.

Gutierrez enrolled in English classes so she could help her children with their homework once again, and so that they wouldn't always have to translate for her.

"You feel bad, because they are children, and sometimes they have to translate adult things they shouldn't have to bother with," she said.

Many women in Gutierrez's English class at El Pueblo Neighborhood Center voice similar concerns, said Barbara Carey, Gutierrez's English teacher.

At first, Carey encouraged the women to practice English at home, but she quickly found out that they preferred Spanish for day-to-day parenting.

"They want their kids to keep their Spanish so they can keep their authority as parents," she said. "If they're struggling with English, it makes them less of an authority figure."

Ahurukundo, the eldest of four brothers, has helped his mother with job applications, mail and banking transactions.

It's not always easy.

Once while at the bank, his mother, who speaks French and Kinyarwanda, was upset over a checking account statement.

"She was speaking in a loud voice," he said. "You could tell she was not happy, and (I was) supposed to speak in that voice too."

Reynolds found in her research that children appear to benefit from the role. They gain nontraditional skills by having to read government documents, sort through bureaucratic forms, distinguish between junk mail and real mail and fill out job applications.

Reynolds and her research partner, UCLA professor Marjorie Orellana, found that fifth-grade children who regularly translated for their parents scored better than their peers on standardized tests.

Schools would better serve these students, who are often seen as being behind when they first transfer into English-only classrooms, by acknowledging and incorporating some of the nontraditional skills into curriculums, Reynolds said.

Children who translate for their parents feel empowered because they know they are contributing to their families, Reynolds said. Many new immigrants come from communities where children have more responsibility than a typical middle-class child in the United States.

"They're a lot like my generation of kids growing up in rural Iowa, where farm kids did a lot of work, so a lot of them have these kinds of responsibilities and everybody contributes their own strengths for the common good of families," she said.

Sergio and Kathia Gutierrez say translating can be a drag.

"Sometimes we get tired because I have to keep telling you what a word means again and again and again . . ." Kathia said, teasing her mother.

But ultimately, they're happy they can contribute.

"It lets me practice my English," said Sergio, a sophomore at Pueblo High Magnet School, "and I'm helping my parents."