'There is a fear.' Students at Sullivan give thanks in gathering political gloom
Just because your family flees their home doesn't mean the usual griefs of adolescence give you a pass. Years in a refugee camp don't lessen the heartbreaks of youth. Walking for miles through hostile territory, dodging bandits, won't make school any easier when you finally get there. You can reach your goal, America, and yet feel out of place and alone. And then your father, whom you adore, dies.
"My family had to move from Syria and go to Jordan when I was 4 years old because of the civil war," said Sebba Saad Allah, 16, standing before assembled classmates, teachers and community members Wednesday evening at Sullivan High School. "I was raised in Jordan for six years with my parents and my two brothers ... In 2019, I moved to the U.S. with my family and I was very unsure if I wanted to be here or not. I wasn't ready for new beginnings ... It was a hard year for my family and I ... I started learning English and helped my family, translating. When I was only 11 years old, COVID hits, and I stopped my education because I didn't know how to use technology to study; 2022, I was back to school, but it was the most challenging year for me because I lost one of the most important people in my life. I lost my father because of cancer. A truly remarkable person for my family and I, who touched the lives of everyone fortunate enough to know him. I miss listening to him saying the prayers before we break our fast..."
Here the sophomore started crying. People clapped, encouragingly, calling out, "You've got this!"
Enfolding teens as they struggle to be who they are and become who they will be, moving from strangers in a strange land to seasoned Americans, has long been a specialty at Sullivan, in Rogers Park, famous as Chicago's immigrant high school. Two-thirds of Sullivan's 724 students are refugees, immigrants or enrolled in their "English Learners" program. As many as 10% live in unstable housing situations.
Add to that an ever more threatening political climate. The event Sebba Saad Allah was speaking at was Sullivan High School's 8th Annual Thanksgiving Celebration, begun in 2016 after Donald Trump was first elected president on a wave of xenophobia. This year feels even more ominous.
"There is a fear," said Evelyn Levin, the English language program teacher at Sullivan. "There's a lot that is unknown right now. There have been a number of students who just dropped out. There's no way of tracking them to see if they're still living in shelters."
More parents are reluctant to tell the school where they live.
"Being listed in any sort of database is frightening to them," Levin said.
The school is trying to be proactive, to simultaneously assuage student fears while preparing them for whatever might occur next month — Trump has promised to begin deporting immigrants, including legal citizens, "on Day One."
"We have given students and families information about legal services that are available," Levin said. "There was a legal clinic here right before Thanksgiving break."
As winter arrives, difficulties mount.
"We have kids living on the train," said STLS advocate Cindra Hart. "I've got kids living on the street. When it first got cold outside, I had to get coats, boots, hats, gloves."
How?
"I'm begging," she said, adding that gift cards, such as from McDonald's, are helpful for impoverished students trying to get through Christmas break. "I need to be able to feed a kid while they're gone from me for two weeks, because I know they're going to eat while they're here."
Hart said the city's aid to her students was abruptly shut off.
"All of a sudden they stopped," she said. "They stopped. The city bum-rushed me. A whole bunch of kids who need stuff. The need is so great."
Anyone inclined to help Sullivan students is encouraged to contact the school's clerk/treasurer, Bianca Rivera at barivera6@cps.edu.
Not that the Thanksgiving event was grim. There was traditional turkey and trimmings, plus pizza and international dishes, contributed by local restaurants. The evening began with greetings were from half a dozen students in half a dozen languages, including Swahili, French, Turkish and Dari, an Afghan language, and Dinka, a language of South Sudan.
Levin, who came to Sullivan this year from a West Side elementary school, spoke about how the immigrants here helped her see the city through fresh eyes — how one day she fought her way through a snow squall to get to Sullivan, only to find her students crowded around the window, transfixed. They had never seen snow.
That said, the sense of festivity was muted compared with past years.
"It's a different kind of celebration this year," said Michael Glasser, president of the Friends of Sullivan, the alumni group hosting the celebration. "We want to teach the kids the beauty of this American holiday ..."
The good news is that Sullivan High School is in Chicago, a city in Illinois, where elected officials have no intention of rolling over in the face of whatever is to come from Washington.
"Let me just say, anybody who goes after the students of Sullivan High School and the 9th congressional district will have to come through me," said Rep. Jan Schakowsky, Sullivan class of '62. "We're going to fight back. The entire community is going to be there to protect these students and protect their families. We are a diverse community, in the city of Chicago and in Illinois, and proud of it. That's what the United States of America is about. A country of opportunity, not throwing people out. Not scaring them. I pledge that I will be there every step of the way to make sure these families are protected. We're ready for the challenge and ready for the fight. I understand the fear, and I want them to feel brave and strong. We are ready to push back."