Pasta and pizza were on everyone's lunch menu in my native land of Italy. Everyone who had such a lunch was fair-skinned and spoke Italian. A few years later, as I stood in the lunch line with my kindergarten class in a school in Brooklyn, I realized things were no longer that simple. My classmates ranged from those kids with pale skin and large blue eyes to those with rich brown skin and dark hair. The food choices were almost as diverse as the students. In front of me was an array of foods I couldn't even name in my native language. Fearing that I would pick out something awful, I desperately tried to ask the boy ahead of me for a recommendation. Unfortunately, between us stood the barrier of language.
Although my kindergarten experience feels like a century ago, the lessons I learned will stick in my mind forever. For the past three summers, I have worked in a government agency in New York. New immigrants much like the little girl in the lunch line flooded our office seeking help. I often had to be an interpreter for the Italian-speaking ones. As I served the role of vital communication link, I was reminded of my desperate struggle to converse before I learned English. I watched with great sympathy as elderly Italians tried to hold a conversation in Italian with people who did not speak the language. It suddenly became very clear to me how lucky I was to be fluent in two languages.
In New York, a multicultural city, students like me are blessed with a chance to work with a diverse population. In my English to Italian translations, I've learned about social programs that I didn't know existed. This work expanded my mind in ways that are impossible inside the four walls of a classroom. Walking through the streets of Brooklyn today, I am no longer confused by this city's sounds and smells. Instead, enjoy its diversity.