[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 150 (2004), Part 9]
[Senate]
[Pages 11183-11184]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




  FIFTH GRADE STUDENTS WRITE ELOQUENTLY ABOUT IMMIGRATION AND AMERICA

 Mr. KENNEDY. Mr. President, this year thousands of fifth 
graders across the United States competed in a writing contest on 
immigration sponsored by the American Immigrant Law Foundation and the 
American Immigration Lawyers Association. The students responded to the 
question, ``Why I'm Glad America is a Nation of Immigrants.''
  I had the privilege of serving as one of the judges for the 
competition, and I was impressed with the students' responses. They 
radiate with pride for the diversity of America and our immigrant 
heritage. Many students told personal stories of their families and 
friends and their immigration to the United States.
  The winner of this year's contest is Audrey Kidwell of Clayton, MO. 
In her essay, ``The Garden of America,'' she explains how immigrants' 
new roots become ``entwined'' with the roots of others helping us to 
``incorporate their strong points into our ever-growing garden.'' The 
United States has often been compared to a melting pot or a colorful 
patchwork quilt, and Audrey's eloquent essay adds a new vision of a 
garden ``watered with kindness and friendship causing us to grow and to 
flourish.''
  Other students honored for their exceptional writing are Camille 
Allamel of Indianapolis, Sarah Mesterton-Gibbons of Tallahassee, Daniel 
Pietryla of Chicago, and Sam Sanson of Bay Village, OH. I congratulate 
these students on their outstanding achievement.
  These award-winning essays will be of interest to all of us in the 
Senate, and I ask that they be printed in the Record.
  The material follows:

                         The Garden of America

  (By Audrey Kidwell, Wilson School, Clayton, MO, Grand Prize Winner)

       Many people have said that America is like a melting pot or 
     stew, but I think our country is more of a garden. In a 
     melting pot, all of the ingredients blend together into mush. 
     When you make stew, it all becomes one flavor and nothing 
     stands out. Try as I might, I can't think of any food that is 
     truly able to be associated with America. But a garden is 
     different.
       When an immigrant first comes to America, he or she puts 
     out new, young roots into the soil of our heritage. These 
     roots become entwined, almost connected you might say, to 
     other root systems, holding the soil together. With the soil 
     held together, we are saved from erosion. We learn of the 
     ways these people have suffered in their countries, so we 
     know which mistakes not to make. It is good this way because 
     when we learn about other nations, we can incorporate their 
     strong points into our ever-growing garden. For this reason, 
     the sun of freedom always shines over our garden.
       Even though we are all different, we all originated as 
     seeds. Some of us are violets or mums, some ferns or vines, 
     but none of us are weeds. We are all beautiful. This is 
     wonderful because in many other places, no one accepts 
     differences. In our garden we all help each other because our 
     roots hold the soil together. Our garden is watered with 
     kindness and friendship causing us to grow and to flourish. 
     These things are good because in other places, the soil 
     crumbles; the plants dry up, but not in America.
       I love America because it has so many good qualities. We 
     offer a home to immigrants so that they can be happy. They, 
     in turn, make our nation stronger and help it to thrive. They 
     pass on new traditions to us and enrich our culture. I can't 
     imagine what our garden would be like without immigrants. It 
     would be similar to a garden with only roses. Roses are nice, 
     but I think variety and diversity is better. We are all lucky 
     and should be thankful to be rooted in the garden of America.

[[Page 11184]]



                          America, the Mosaic

(By Camille Allamel, International School of Indiana, Indianapolis, IN, 
                               Runner-Up)

     Over time, America has become,
     A gorgeous mosaic made of precious, living stones.
     The jade stands for Asian immigrants,
     Who brought mysterious China Towns and fireworks,
     Along with sweet and sour chicken.
     The ruby symbolizes the Hispanics,
     With their juicy burritos and tacos,
     Fiestas, mariachis, and pinatas!
     The sapphire represents the French,
     Down to Louisiana,
     Right to Cajun Land,
     With jambalaya, gumbo, and zydeco.
     The emerald stone is for Italians,
     Who have brought pasta and pizza along.
     Now, the diamond,
     Who is dedicated to this special group,
     Forced to make it here,
     Because of slavery,
     When finally free,
     Deciding to stay,
     They are the African Americans!
     Let's not forget the native turquoise,
     Made for the Indians the immigrants have found,
     Who have introduced and shared this beautiful land
     That we today call America.
     There are so many other stones,
     Too many to name them all,
     These immigrants who brought their history,
     Their customs and their ministries,
     Together create this grand mosaic,
     Making all these people,
     United to form America,
     In a unique melting pot!!!

          Why I Am Glad That America Is a Nation of Immigrants

 (By Sarah Mesterton-Gibbons, Home School, Tallahassee, FL, Runner-Up)

       You might not be able to tell from looking at me, that I 
     come from a family of many immigrants. My friends might think 
     that I look ``American,'' but they don't realize that each 
     part of me reflects the characteristics of my ancestors. For 
     example, I got my blonde hair from my Swedish relatives, my 
     green eyes from my Northern Spanish relatives, my fair skin 
     and freckles from my Irish relatives, my short height from my 
     Puerto Rican relatives, and my facial shape from my Finnish 
     relatives.
       Immigration is common in my family, and many of my 
     relatives have married people from different countries, 
     faiths and backgrounds. Two of my grandparents and all of my 
     great-grandparents immigrated from different countries, and 
     many of my great-great-grandparents were immigrants, too. My 
     father immigrated here from England. His parents went to 
     England from Ireland. We all have different accents than our 
     looks. And different interests and celebrations.
       My friends think it's unusual that we celebrate different 
     holidays and eat different foods, but they also find it 
     interesting. We celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve as they 
     do in Europe, and also Santa Lucia Day and Midsommar as they 
     do in Sweden. We'd much rather eat rice and beans, chapattis, 
     spanikopita, Cornish pasties and ratatouille than typical 
     American dishes. My sister and I have even learned to cook 
     the dishes ourselves. When we listen to music, we listen to 
     everything from Irish jigs, to Swedish polkas, to Spanish 
     sambas to English folk songs. Our house is filled with 
     furniture and articles from all over the world. Our lifestyle 
     reflects our many nationalities. Even our very best friends 
     are from many countries.
       Even though I look typically American--but am not--I AM a 
     typical American, because we are all immigrants or 
     descendants of immigrants. And that is wonderful, because it 
     means it is easy to find the food, decorations and costumes 
     to celebrate holidays as my ancestors have done.
       This varied cultural background has enriched my life. The 
     people I love have taught me about their religions, customs, 
     food and celebrations. No matter who I'm with, or what 
     country I'm in, I feel very much at home. Thanks to my Dad, I 
     feel especially at home in England.
       Being exposed to so many different opinions has made me 
     look at America's problems in new ways. I often find that 
     other countries have handled similar problems in better ways 
     than we have and I hope I'm open-minded enough to learn from 
     them. I would like to convince my country to consider many 
     world views before making decisions. And I hope my fellow 
     immigrants try their very best to do the same. Maybe if we 
     remember that we are all immigrants, then we can continue to 
     make America a better place to live.

           Why I Am Glad That America Is a Land of Immigrants

   (By Daniel Pietryla, St. Christina School, Chicago, IL, Runner-Up)

       Dedicated to my parents, grandparents and to all immigrants 
     who have endured personal hardships for the sake of their 
     children. Leaving their homelands and bravely entering a 
     foreign country with hopes and dreams of freedom, happiness 
     and prosperity. The gift of America, a gift of immigrants!)

     My ancestors are from Poland, Where life was hard and long, 
           Their future was in a new land, America is where they 
           belong.

     The dirt floor, wooden shack, Beds of feathers and straw, The 
           privy around back, Was the last thing they saw.

     They turned and gazed, For one last look, The home where they 
           were raised, Is the memory they took.

     Over the Atlantic by ship, many hardships were endured, 
           Herbal tea they would sip, their senses were blurred. 
           Days and nights of wondering, Frightened and alone were 
           they, Deep doubts were pondering, Through this long, 
           long way.

     Two weeks of seasickness, Unsure of their choice, America 
           came in darkness, No one did rejoice.

     They boarded a train, Never understanding the words, 
           Lightning and rain, Were all that they heard.

     The train's wheels were squealing, The sudden stop that they 
           felt, Nervous stomachs were feeling, And hearts about 
           to melt.

     Streetlights and cars Intensifying the fear, And heard from 
           afar, A familiar voice so clear.

     ``Welcome, Welcome, You're finally here!'' Our senses were 
           numb, They broke into tears.

     America at last! Everything so new, Letting go of the past, 
           It's a hard thing to do.

     Grandpa and Grandma, My Mom and her brothers, From Poland to 
           America, Similar stories of others.

     Son of an immigrant, America, my home,
     A story so important, Memorialized in poem.
     Our ancestors from somewhere, So brave and alone, Gave a gift 
           so rare,
     America, Our Home!
                                  ____


                             American Stew

     (By Sam Sanson, Bay Middle School, Bay Village, OH, Runner-Up)

       Every American's favorite . . .
       One pound of potatoes and a teaspoon of Irish humor
       One ounce of coconut and 3 cups of Filipino faith
       Five ounces of noodles and a liter of Italian artwork
       One pound of kielbasi and \1/2\ tablespoon of Polish 
     courage
       One teaspoon of sauerkraut and a cup of German 
     determination
       Five teaspoons of soy sauce and an ounce of Chinese history
       Two pounds of escargot and a tablespoon of French cooking
       Two tablespoons of tea and six ounces of British etiquette
       One ounce of figs and one pound of African tribal dancing
       Two pounds of Korean rice and \1/2\ tablespoon of Korean 
     silk
       We hope that you enjoy ``America's Stew.''
       With all of the surprising ingredients, it makes the most 
     interesting and exciting meal of all!

                          ____________________