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Slice of Life
Galina, a Russian immigrant, smiles apologetically for not knowing the language of her new land. Her husband works, and their child is learning quickly, but she is still fumbling with basic communication.
The scene could be an ulpan in Israel, but it's not. Galina begins spilling out her story on the elevator after class at the Riverside Church in Manhattan - a stone's throw from Grant's Tomb. The Riverside Language Program, one of the few daytime English-language classes in the city, serves immigrants and refugees who have received American visas in the last 18 months.
Exiles from the four corners of the world gather from 9:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Monday through Friday, struggling to understand one another in their Russian, Spanish, French and Chinese accents.
"In any one class we might have 10 languages, which makes it like an ulpan," says Phyllis Berman, 57, a veteran teacher who co-founded the school in 1979.
The ulpan model, in fact, inspired her. "I wanted for people to be exhausted into English," she declares. "We want to surround them with English. That's what I think ulpans are trying to do."
Every year about 650 students from 17 to 70-something learn how to negotiate subways and supermarkets, Central Park and the New York Public Library. They rehearse calling operators for information. They prepare for museum field trips by talking about the basics: admission money and a picnic lunch.
Berman, who has taught the language since 1967, stresses, "This isn't textbook, boring stuff. This is human stuff."
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