Good morning class! Today we're introducing a new student...Adama!

Adama's day began, a thump in her heart,

in a new country where her day will start.

New friends, new adventures and play

On her first day, let's hope she finds her way.

It smells funny!

What food is that?

Lunchtime came and Adama was thrilled,

Spices and flavors, her lunchbox was filled.

Her classmates turned away, denting her pride.

Tears filled her eyes; and Adama tried to hide.

...

Playtime came, filling everyone with delight

They all included Adama, it was such a lovely sight.

But Adama was unfamiliar with their songs and their rhymes

So while everyone sang, Adama waited for the time.

So Adama..how was your first day?

I don't want any more lunch from home!

I have to learn the song from playtime!

I only want to speak their language!

At home, Adama cried a great deal.

Her mother tried to console her, to heal.

Yet, Adama had rejected herself. 

In her world, she felt all alone.

Adama tried to lead with the advice given by her mother to just "be yourself"..

"But what does that mean?" Adama asked. 

Was 'herself' the person she wanted to be? 

What did it mean to be 'yourself' when caught in between two worlds? 

Now flourished and raised, Adama shined. Her days of inner turmoil now left behind.

Though little did she know in her home, Adama's own daughter would face the same problems she'd now outgrown...

Nobody understands me!

I HATE it here!

I want to go..home.

Adama listened calmly, a song too familiar.

She once sang the same tune of pain

and knew this wasn't peculiar.

Now, this lesson is taught to her daughter

Of resilience and strength, to flow like water.

...like you, I also didn't feel in place at my new school.

So yes, I do understand what you're going through. My first day was similar to yours!

Really? What can I do then?

Listen. Empathize. Advise.

Three steps Adama took, to ensure her daughter's voice be heard and struggles be seen.

Adama once felt the isolation that immigration entailed. While she couldn't erase her daughter's struggles, she could provide a safe space and guide her. 

She allowed for her daughter to vocalize her experiences.

Shared experiences can present themselves differently. The important thing is to always listen.

My mom made this for me. I'd love to share!

My mom made mine, too!

In a lunchroom filled with youthful cheer, classmates gathered with joyous grace. 

That looks good!

      Creating bonds, like grands of sand.

    Simple lessons, easy to understand.

Can I try some? You can try mine, too!

We can teach you some of our songs!

Okay, I might pronounce the words a little differently.