Adult English Class
Our goal is to help immigrants integrate into the culture and learn the language.
Men’s class runs two evenings a week. Older teens and men from a variety of ethnicities gather for a multi-level class at the Lamp Post.
Women’s classes are in session Monday through Thursday mornings. Most of the ladies are from Afghanistan, but we also have a handful of ladies from Guatemala, Ukraine, and Mexico. Ladies with arms full of babies and books stream into the Lamp Post, as happy children run into the arms of their beloved babysitters. In the afternoons, we go into the homes of our students for one hour of personalized tutoring. This looks different in every home. Sometimes we use flashcards and worksheets to expand their knowledge. Sometimes we read and discuss stories or simply hold a conversation. We enter their culture by eating their food and drinking tea while chatting and playing with their children. As we serve here, we pray that God would speak to each of their hearts and show them in a special way just how much He loves them!
Here’s a snapshot of a tutoring session written by one of our teachers.
I approached the door, curious if *Tabasum was home. I felt a wave of mental exhaustion as I wondered if my visit would make any difference. As I knocked on the door, I heard a child crying. A young boy flung open the door. “My mother is at the store, but she is coming right now, in two minutes.” I stepped inside, inwardly debating if I should proceed. However, before I knew it, I was seated with one girl on the left showing me her game and another girl on my right begging for attention while a third girl set a plate of nuts, cookies, and juice in front of me. Several times in the next 25 minutes I attempted to leave- “Your mother isn’t home, so I need to go.” They replied- “Oh, teacher you can just stay and talk with us.” My heart warmed–These children are so adorable! In the end, Tabasum did come home. We did a little studying and then she jumped up and began to cook for her family. Before I left, Tabasum handed me a bag of chocolates. “It’s because we love our teacher,” the oldest interpreted. I walked out to my car, encouraged, realizing how much it meant to them for me to just be there.