| Immigration and citizenship (2) By Paul Kusuda |
can't be helped.) They suffered, but endured. They harbored no hard feelings, resentment, or long-term bitterness.
They were resilient.
Like many others, my parents accepted the federal regulations that denied them the opportunity to apply for
citizenship, the denial being based on their ancestry. The bar existed for others of Asian descent; however, it was
lifted for the Chinese a few years earlier, the rationale being that China was an ally during World War II.
Naturalization bars against all Asian aliens are now gone, but the path to citizenship is not easy. In fact, it's rocky,
time-consuming, and costly. In Wisconsin -- as recent Southeast Asian refugees and others have found -- there is
only one federal office authorized to process the necessary papers and keep track of the required passage of time
between phases of the established process that leads to the final goal of U.S. citizenship. That office is in
Milwaukee, hardly a central location. Those of us who are natural-born U.S. citizens are unaware of how difficult it is
for aliens to gain citizenship.
After filing the first set of papers and paying for the application, they have to be felony-free for five years as legal
permanent residents. Then, they have to pay for and file more documents and wait at least two more years (seldom
less) before having the opportunity to appear before a judge who tests them to determine that they have spent the
seven or more years studying the U.S. Constitution and other documents and topics of citizenship interest. Then,
finally, after passing the judge's scrutiny, they are sworn in and become naturalized U.S. citizens.
While experiencing the difficulties of overcoming language and related obstacles in the way of obtaining and
keeping a job and managing day-to-day-living with a variety of complex and often confusing paperwork demands,
my parents helped us children in many ways. One was to speak both Japanese and English at home. That was not
easy because using English, when it was a second language, meant extra effort on their part. They knew their
pronunciation was really not the best, but they saw to it that we were bilingual by the time we enrolled in
kindergarten. They succeeded
That early bilingual start was truly helpful to me, although now, I've lost the skills; but that's another story. I was
enrolled in kindergarten about a half-year or so early. My brother, being 4 ½ years older than me, was already in
Amelia Street Elementary School. My sister, being two years younger than me, was still at home (actually, at the
hotel that my parents owned and ran).
Miss Adams, my teacher, had a classroom with a number of children who understood Japanese but not English.
Those children were not as fortunate as I was. Miss Adams quickly found out that one child much smaller than the
rest of the class happened to be bilingual: that was me. So, even though I was the youngest as well as the shortest
one in the room, I became her helper. I translated from English to Japanese and vice versa. In a relatively short
time, the entire class was speaking English, and Miss Adams was relieved.
Since I had been enrolled at an earlier age than usual, and since I was a small tyke, I was held back in
kindergarten. How many kids ever flunk kindergarten? I was probably the first one ever. Anyway, I enjoyed my role,
and I did learn what everyone else did -- twice.
Amelia Street School in Los Angeles practiced an odd way of moving children from grade to grade. Students had
to meet academic and socialization standards; they also had to meet height standards. Usually, the progression
from kindergarten after a half-year or one year was to be promoted to A-1 and then to B-1 for the second semester
of the year. Not at Amelia Street School. There, the students who were too short were moved to Little A-1 to Big A-1
to Little B-1 to Big B-1. From then on, the move was to A-2 and B-2, etc. It was a complicated system, but the
thinking was to accommodate socialization, I think. The positive side was that growth spurts meant skipping one or
two intervening "Littles." Also, the Los Angeles school system allowed students to skip semesters when they are
academically and socially able. So, eventually, even though I flunked kindergarten and got into the morass of "Little"
and "Big," I caught up by about the third grade. In fact, I graduated Los Angeles High School when I was 17 ½,
Class of Winter 1940.
My parents' ability to mix Japanese and American cultures really helped their three children. Many other
immigrants shared similar experiences. Life was hard, but Japanese parents expected their children to value
education and to be competitive academically. They always looked to the future. Life had to be better for the children
than it had been for them. However, that "better" had to be earned, not given to them.
They were resilient.
Like many others, my parents accepted the federal regulations that denied them the opportunity to apply for
citizenship, the denial being based on their ancestry. The bar existed for others of Asian descent; however, it was
lifted for the Chinese a few years earlier, the rationale being that China was an ally during World War II.
Naturalization bars against all Asian aliens are now gone, but the path to citizenship is not easy. In fact, it's rocky,
time-consuming, and costly. In Wisconsin -- as recent Southeast Asian refugees and others have found -- there is
only one federal office authorized to process the necessary papers and keep track of the required passage of time
between phases of the established process that leads to the final goal of U.S. citizenship. That office is in
Milwaukee, hardly a central location. Those of us who are natural-born U.S. citizens are unaware of how difficult it is
for aliens to gain citizenship.
After filing the first set of papers and paying for the application, they have to be felony-free for five years as legal
permanent residents. Then, they have to pay for and file more documents and wait at least two more years (seldom
less) before having the opportunity to appear before a judge who tests them to determine that they have spent the
seven or more years studying the U.S. Constitution and other documents and topics of citizenship interest. Then,
finally, after passing the judge's scrutiny, they are sworn in and become naturalized U.S. citizens.
While experiencing the difficulties of overcoming language and related obstacles in the way of obtaining and
keeping a job and managing day-to-day-living with a variety of complex and often confusing paperwork demands,
my parents helped us children in many ways. One was to speak both Japanese and English at home. That was not
easy because using English, when it was a second language, meant extra effort on their part. They knew their
pronunciation was really not the best, but they saw to it that we were bilingual by the time we enrolled in
kindergarten. They succeeded
That early bilingual start was truly helpful to me, although now, I've lost the skills; but that's another story. I was
enrolled in kindergarten about a half-year or so early. My brother, being 4 ½ years older than me, was already in
Amelia Street Elementary School. My sister, being two years younger than me, was still at home (actually, at the
hotel that my parents owned and ran).
Miss Adams, my teacher, had a classroom with a number of children who understood Japanese but not English.
Those children were not as fortunate as I was. Miss Adams quickly found out that one child much smaller than the
rest of the class happened to be bilingual: that was me. So, even though I was the youngest as well as the shortest
one in the room, I became her helper. I translated from English to Japanese and vice versa. In a relatively short
time, the entire class was speaking English, and Miss Adams was relieved.
Since I had been enrolled at an earlier age than usual, and since I was a small tyke, I was held back in
kindergarten. How many kids ever flunk kindergarten? I was probably the first one ever. Anyway, I enjoyed my role,
and I did learn what everyone else did -- twice.
Amelia Street School in Los Angeles practiced an odd way of moving children from grade to grade. Students had
to meet academic and socialization standards; they also had to meet height standards. Usually, the progression
from kindergarten after a half-year or one year was to be promoted to A-1 and then to B-1 for the second semester
of the year. Not at Amelia Street School. There, the students who were too short were moved to Little A-1 to Big A-1
to Little B-1 to Big B-1. From then on, the move was to A-2 and B-2, etc. It was a complicated system, but the
thinking was to accommodate socialization, I think. The positive side was that growth spurts meant skipping one or
two intervening "Littles." Also, the Los Angeles school system allowed students to skip semesters when they are
academically and socially able. So, eventually, even though I flunked kindergarten and got into the morass of "Little"
and "Big," I caught up by about the third grade. In fact, I graduated Los Angeles High School when I was 17 ½,
Class of Winter 1940.
My parents' ability to mix Japanese and American cultures really helped their three children. Many other
immigrants shared similar experiences. Life was hard, but Japanese parents expected their children to value
education and to be competitive academically. They always looked to the future. Life had to be better for the children
than it had been for them. However, that "better" had to be earned, not given to them.
In a previous issue of Asian Wisconzine, I wrote about how proud my father and mother were to
become naturalized American citizens in Chicago in 1952. Neither was overly dismayed by the fact
that during World War II, our family, together with thousands of other Japanese American families,
was forced to move from California, Oregon, and Washington and the then-territory of Hawaii to
desert and swamp lands in desolate parts of the United States. They told us, "Shikata ganai." (It
become naturalized American citizens in Chicago in 1952. Neither was overly dismayed by the fact
that during World War II, our family, together with thousands of other Japanese American families,
was forced to move from California, Oregon, and Washington and the then-territory of Hawaii to
desert and swamp lands in desolate parts of the United States. They told us, "Shikata ganai." (It