author: Luis J. Rodríguez
illustrator: Carlos Vásquez
publisher: Curbstone Press, 1997
grades 3-8
Mixteca, Mexican
América is the name of a Mixteca child from
Oaxaca, living with her family in the Pilsen barrio, an economically stressed
and depressed neighborhood in Chicago. Her mother cleans houses, her father
works the factories when work is available, and her uncle also works—and
drinks. There are “desperate men without jobs standing on street corners…stuck
in a gray world where they can’t find their way out.” The child’s school
experiences are equally depressing: her dismissive ESL teacher considers her
students “difficult” and refers to América as “illegal.”
“How can anyone
be illegal?” she thinks. “How can a girl called América not belong in America?”
This child has dreams. She dreams of Oaxaca, her home. She dreams that her
uncle doesn’t drink. But here, in this strange, hostile land, she is losing her
voice.
And then, one
day, a poet comes to visit, and everything changes for América. Speaking in
Spanish, he encourages the students to write poetry, to talk poetry, to reach
inside themselves and bring out their dreams. He tells the class, “When you use
words to share feelings with somebody else, you are a poet, and poets belong to
the whole world.”
Rodríguez based
his story on his experience as a poet-in-residence, working with
Spanish-speaking children and their parents in Chicago “on writing from their
lives and imaginations.” “It is not enough to prepare our children for the
world,” Rodríguez writes, “we also must prepare the world for our children.”
Carlos Vázquez’
vibrant full-color illustrations, which combine elements of folk art with
surrealism, are amazing. In almost every picture, there is a little bird
perched on América’s shoulder or nearby. When she dreams of home, the animals,
the flowers, and a carpet of green are there with her. When she writes with her
mother at the kitchen table, lines connect what’s on the paper with what’s in
their hearts.
What sets this
story apart is that it deals with the harshness and violence of poverty in a
way that does not dehumanize people who are poor. Young América is neither hero
nor victim; rather, she is simply a child with dignity and courage, a child who
is finding her voice.
This title is
also available in Spanish, La Llaman
América.
—Beverly Slapin
(published 4/5/13)
(published 4/5/13)
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