Bonnie Chang

It was the 1970s and I had been plunked down in a place called Norman, Oklahoma.

It was a challenge for a 21-year old immigrant from Taiwan with little English, but I was excited. I had a scholarship to study biochemistry at the University of Oklahoma graduate school.

I was assigned an American host family, who made me feel welcome, invited me over for the 4th of July and taught me a lot about American history and customs. They also took me to church – I was Christian and they were too.

After earning my degree, my Korean-born husband and I decided to make America our home and were privileged to become U.S. citizens. I was blessed to get into the computer technology industry, an unusual break for a woman, and after three decades of work, I retired in 2014 at age 64.

But within a month of stopping work, I got a phone call that really struck home with me. A local Chinese Christian organization was looking for volunteer instructors to help Chinese-speaking immigrants apply for citizenship. I had gained so much from living in this country, and felt this was one way I could pay that back.

In my classes, I teach immigrants of all ages, mainly from Hong Kong, mainland China and Taiwan, and prepare them for the citizenship test. Because most come here with little education, they don’t feel confident to understand American government and the Constitution. If I ask them questions, gradually they begin to talk and understand.

Once, a young student from China approached me with a dilemma. Ten years earlier, she had tried to enter the U.S. illegally through Mexico, was caught and turned back. A lawyer had told her not to reveal this on the application, but I told her to be honest. “Even if you joined the Communist Party,” I tell my students, “you have to reveal it and give the reason, such as, ‘I didn’t have a choice, or I worked for the government and it was a requirement.'”

Six months later, the young woman returned with good news. “Not only did I get my citizenship,” she said, “but I have peace of mind because I didn’t lie.” It made me feel great – first of all, because some students don’t listen to me. But it also feeds my soul to know I’m doing good for others.

My encore work is definitely an outgrowth of my own immigrant experience. My siblings and my parents eventually moved to the U.S., took classes similar to the ones I teach and became citizens. My mother, who passed away six years ago at age 93, always said that it was important to cherish our rights, especially our right to vote. She voted in every election, local and federal, sometimes more often than her own kids. She was also a very good Christian, and prayed for our government leaders.

Today, as I watch the angry debate on immigration, I reflect on how attitudes have changed since I arrived in the 1970s. Back then, most Americans didn’t feel immigrants were taking over their jobs and believed we could help out the economy. People weren’t afraid that immigrants would bring violence to their communities – attitudes that are prevalent today.

My family and I came here for the economic opportunity. But in my classes, I see more and more students who are seeking the freedoms that come with American citizenship, freedoms of religion and speech and other rights. Unlike in their homelands, they know they can express an opinion here and not be persecuted.

I hope I am a role model for my students, coming here for a good education and contributing through my work. Once they become citizens, I encourage them to enroll in school to get ahead. I tell them, “If you have good morals, a good education and work hard, this wonderful country will welcome you.”