I just finished giving a keynote speech to the Laotian American Community of Fresno during their annual dinner on March 9th. I had been invited to speak to the families about the importance of education. It was an honor, and I was very impressed with the hard work they’re doing to preserve the heritage and traditions of Laotian Americans.
I began with a short story of a teacher who wanted to teach his students a lesson in courage and wanted them to cross a river. No one answered the call. Except for one young girl, who swam through the dangerous currents and crocodiles to the other side. Everyone cheered her on. When she reached the other side, she said: “I just want to know one thing. Who pushed me in the river!?”
I like that story because it tells us about our hidden potential, our ability to surprise ourselves, and our need for a little push from our friends, every now and then. Sometimes, courage doesn’t come immediately from within ourselves, but the people around us who see our potential and want us to succeed.
As I told the families in Fresno, we may not think we have the courage to accomplish our goals, but it’s about perseverance, persistence and positive thinking that win the day.
I wanted them to feel hope and excitement that education can improve their life, the lives of their families, and the lives of our community.
Much of what I related to them I discussed in part in my previous columns here at the Twin Cities Daily Planet. As with many speeches there were some things that got left out, and a few things people didn’t quite hear during my talk. I thought I’d share some of those highlights.
I wanted to help the families in Fresno understand the reasonable question: Who have we been, and what does it mean to be Lao? It is almost 40 years since we all began to arrive in the United States as refugees. I wanted to let them know how important it was that we also remember the Tai Dam, Mien, Khmu, Lahu, Lisu, Lue, and others who also come from Laos. No one should be forgotten. Because to me, everyone is important. Everyone can have a voice.
In Laos, we often said in the old days that “only the lucky ones can go to schools.” I often thought of this while attending school in Minnesota. I felt lucky, but over time I have also come to believe that those of us who are lucky also have a responsibility. One part of that responsibility is to pass the best of what we learn on to others. Knowledge is a treasure that is best when it is shared.
It surprised many of the students to know that today, less than 2 out of 10 Lao finish college, and only 1 in 10 successfully completed a Masters or Doctorate program. We’re turning those statistics around, but our journey still has many steps ahead.
Without education, the quality of life is affected for everyone. But we know Lao intellectuals are capable of winning national and international awards when they are given the opportunity. I wanted to let the families know the potential that is in those intellectuals is in all of us. But it was important we understand the challenges of education not just locally, but internationally.
When I was a student in college, there were a few moments I was really afraid. I wondered if I had the skills to graduate. I didn’t have many role models I could turn to. My college was just learning what to do with all of the refugees from Southeast Asia and their families. As I mentioned here on the Twin Cities Daily Planet, my advisor even suggested I should drop out. I saw many of my friends drop out, and they never came back. I hated those feelings of doubt. But I wanted to succeed and graduate.
In 2011, I conducted my research with Lao college students on holistic identity development. In my research, I found that many young Lao today still struggled with the issues of education as I did, and my brothers and sisters did. Like my family, they couldn’t turn to their parents for guidance because our parents had never had the opportunity or experience of going to college.
Even now, it can be hard for Lao families who have no role models or mentors who can assure them they are on the right path. It’s one thing to be accepted to college, it’s another to select the right classes, get passing grades, select a major and graduate. Without the right guidance, our students might not succeed. The statistics point out this happens with alarming frequency.
It was heartbreaking, but all of the students I talked to are the very first in their families to ever go to college. Many were afraid that they’ll go into debt and feared that they’d be unable to find jobs that will let them take care of their aging parents. They did not have the luxury to go to college casually, to pursue something that interested them intellectually. To them, their decisions had to be made with economy and practicality.
I encouraged the families and community organizers to be more vocal about establishing and maintaining real programs to connect communities to our youth and their culture. That was a vital key to success. Organizations like the Laotian American Community of Fresno were trying to create a space for Lao culture through language, dance and community service which build needed skills for the future. They can’t do something like this alone.
Like the teacher in my story who wanted to teach his students courage, we must help people push others to achieve great things, even when our youth are uncertain of themselves.
It’s like the first time we learn to ride a bike. Sometimes we get training wheels, sometimes we fall off, but the most important thing is to get back on, and keep getting on and practicing until one day, we’re riding everywhere we want to go.
My closing advice was simple: Find your voice. Find your dream. Discover how many different ways you can connect your voice and your dreams with the dreams of your parents, your family, and our community. Do your research and find out what your interests are. I told the children and even the adults to seek out great mentors. To learn from our shared past and grow from it.
I was filled with wonder watching the youth as they stepped forward and told all of us their dreams that night after I spoke. They did it in Lao, occasionally Laoglish, but they were hungry to learn. I think we should take their dreams seriously and do what we can to help them reach everything they can imagine, anywhere in the world.
Comment