Giving the gift of language

Editor's note: A student's name in this story has been changed.

By Callie Clark ~ Southeast Missourian

Abbey Aguirre was called to Cape Girardeau by God. The 70-year-old Hispanic woman believes that with all her heart.

"I feel like a missionary here," she says.

On one recent morning, Aguirre is at Clippard Elementary, one of the many places where faces light up and hugs are exchanged when she walks into a room.

She wants to visit Maria, a dark-haired, olive-skinned second-grader who recently moved to Cape Girardeau.

Maria speaks little English but is making steady improvement working with Aguirre. They play games together. Even though Maria's family insists she will not learn by playing games, Aguirre sees the girl's progress.

In fact, Maria made a perfect score on her last spelling test, and Aguirre plans to reward her.

"I have a gift for you at home," Aguirre tells her. "'Regalo'? You know what 'regalo' is in English? Gift."

"Gift." Maria echoes the word in a whisper.

This is Aguirre's real gift to Maria and hundreds of other Hispanics in Southeast Missouri, the English language.

It's a gift Aguirre's parents, both Mexican immigrants, gave her. It's a gift Aguirre passed on to her husband, Jose, also a Mexican immigrant. Really, it's the gift of life for many Hispanics living in the United States, words allowing them to overcome illiteracy, poverty, unemployment.

Wherever there is a need, Aguirre is there. And with the growing population of Hispanics in this area -- from 500 in 1990 to more than 1,200 in 2000, according to the U.S. Census Bureau -- there are needs everywhere.

At the school, Aguirre is a liaison between non-English speaking parents and non-Spanish speaking teachers.

She does the same at doctors' offices, the police station and her church, where she translates sermons and also teaches English-Spanish classes. She works with employers to find jobs for unemployed Hispanics. She opens up her home to displaced Hispanics.

She does it all because she sees herself and her husband in many of the families she helps.

"I've been there, I know it's hard. But I also know you don't need to take from the government, to take from those who really can't work," Aguirre says.

It's a lesson she tries to instill in those she helps, but she fears many times her words fall on deaf ears.

"You want to know why so many Hispanics come here? You want the truth? Because you make it easy for them," she says. "There's Medicare and WIC. They don't have to pay for anything."

Aguirre and her husband tell stories of the "coyote," someone responsible for smuggling families across the Mexican border. One "coyote" has charged many Cape Girardeau Hispanics $2,500 a head for the journey, which families pay in hopes of future financial gain.

"They come here, they make money and they send it back to Mexico to build a house or business," Aguirre says.

Building a reputation

Aguirre is fierce in her insistence that everyone in America should learn English. But while she teaches Hispanic children English at school, their parents often refuse to attempt the language at home.

"Why do we need Spanish-speaking people at the doctor's office, at schools? When I go to Mexico, no one tries to speak English with me," Aguirre says.

Her strong viewpoints have earned her a reputation among local Hispanics, one that is not always positive but one that she is never ashamed of.

"They say I favor green eyes, that I think I am white," Aguirre says. "It's because I tell..."

She pauses, and her husband finishes the sentence for her.

"Because she tells the truth," Jose Aguirre says.

The couple officially moved to Cape Girardeau in 2002, but they visited their daughter, a Cape Girardeau teacher, off and on for many years prior.

During a visit in 2001, Aguirre found herself called upon to translate for a Hispanic mother trying to get her children immunized so they could enroll in school. The mother did not speak English, and the health clinic workers did not speak Spanish.

The experience convinced Aguirre she was needed here. That need is reaffirmed on a near daily basis, through students, teachers, parents and members of Aguirre's church, First Church of the Nazarene.

"You have an awesome wife," Lyndora Hughes tells Jose Aguirre as the couple enter Hughes' classroom at Clippard Elementary.

Hughes is Maria's teacher, and she's very familiar with Abbey Aguirre's efforts to promote English among the Hispanic community.

"It gives me goose bumps to see people like her are still in the world today," says Hughes, pausing to hug Aguirre.

The hugs from teachers, the sound of Maria's shy voice speaking English, the thank-yous from Hispanics who have found jobs through her -- it's the tiniest bit of heaven on earth for Aguirre.

"There's where my joy comes from," she says. "There's how I get paid."

cclark@semissourian.com

335-6611, ext. 128