At a Queens school, migrant kids gain melodies, and respite from trauma

A cardboard cutout of the Supremes stands inside the lobby of I.S. 235 — the Academy for New Americans — in Astoria, Queens. The walls are adorned with inspirational quotes from Rosa Parks, President Barack Obama and Harriet Tubman. A sign outside the guidance counselor’s office reads, “Always remember to ask… how is this good for children?”

From the auditorium a few feet away comes a torrent of noise: scores of middle schoolers, letting loose from their seats before being hushed by a school official. And then from the stage, the quiet plonking of guitar strings, and the tentative but unmistakable melody of a classic Mexican folk composition: “Cielito Lindo,” or as millions of Americans may know it, the “Ay ay ay ay” song.

“Canta y no llores. Porque cantando se allegra,” the lyrics go on to say. In English, they translate to “sing and don’t cry, because singing brings joy.”

The performers at this end-of-year concert are students, mostly migrant youth from Venezuela, along with other newcomers to the country who have for months been enrolled in Music Partners, program operated by the Brooklyn Conservatory of Music.

The program, which includes guitar and percussion instruction at I.S. 235, brings musical education and therapy to 4,500 public school students across the city. And in an academic year in which tens of thousands of migrant kids entered the New York City public school system, including 160 students at I.S. 235, it is one place where the newcomers have quietly embedded themselves in their adopted communities, forging new friendships with the help of teachers, administrators and creative initiatives.

For some, the instruction has also been a respite from the trauma and uncertainty that many of the newcomers know so well. The Brooklyn Conservatory of Music’s Executive Director Chad Cooper, who was on hand for the concert, said music training’s benefits can be profound for children who have fled their homelands.

“These are students who are experiencing a lot of trauma,” Cooper said. “They have been displaced. They are going through what I imagine is a great deal of emotional turmoil. So I think first of all, music is just a source of joy. It brings happiness.”

Jorge Suarez, who teaches technology and Home Language Arts, said the students only occasionally reveal the trauma they’ve experienced during their long journeys, with some of them traveling to the southern U.S. border from South and Central America. He said he was troubled by a written assignment that he received from one of his students.

“One student wrote that they saw a young child that was asthmatic and he collapsed because there is no medical help,” Suarez said.

As the student recounted in the paper, the child was briefly revived with an energy drink, but collapsed again, while his mother watched.

Then, by the student’s account, “the people that are in charge of guiding the migrants basically just took the kid and threw him over a ravine,” Suarez said.

Out of sensitivity to these experiences, instructors try to shape their curriculum in a way that blends the new with the familiar. Percussion teacher Agustin Grasso, who is originally from Argentina, said he exposes kids to a variety of Latin American rhythms: Colombian cumbia, Brazilian samba, chacarera from Argentina and Uruguay’s candombe.

“I think it definitely helps them to connect with something that they’re familiar with, in a different place,” Grasso said. “It’s our music.”

Days before the performance, guitar instructor Noah Wilson stood in a classroom as his nine students wrapped up their final rehearsal before the concert. Several pint-sized cartons of chocolate milk had toppled onto the floor, and Wilson watched as one middle schooler strode obliviously through a brown puddle of milk.

The weekly course, Wilson said, began in February with students in “near total silence.” But now, he said, “they’re jamming and they’re hanging there, eating together, chatting.”

As he spoke, two students stood before an electronic chalkboard with guitar chords sketched out on it. One of them wrote “I love the teacher” underneath.

Seventh grader Sarah Khalil said the class was initially challenging — especially learning how to move her hand across the guitar’s frets. But now she says it’s fun.

She and her twin sister, Dina, who is also in the guitar class, are originally from Yemen but spent five years living in Egypt, where she said there was no music education. She was pleasantly surprised to find it at her new school, and giggled as she talked about the diverse acquaintances she’s made here, at a school designed for newcomers to the country. Her friends come from Venezuela, Spain, Colombia and even Egypt.

“I play with them in lunch and speak with them a lot,” Khalil said.

Melanie David, 13, a standout pupil in Wilson’s class, arrived in New York last October from Venezuela. Unlike most of the other students, she has her own guitar and practices first thing every morning and after returning home from school. She said her first year had been a success.

“I felt good because I was able to integrate myself and make new friendships and get to know the teachers,” David said. Like the others, she wore a white polo T-shirt bearing the school logo: an image of Lady Liberty and the words, “A Passport to a New Beginning.”

Dea Hyka, who moved to the United States from Albania last year, stood outside the auditorium after participating in a salsa dance. She said her “best friend” at the school was Gustavo Medina, a 12-year-old from Venezuela who arrived in April and was enrolled in the percussion program.

“He loves everybody,” Hyka said. “He loves comforting everybody when they’re down. And in return we just comfort him too when he’s crying or having a bad time.”

Just then, Medina walked up in a bright yellow jersey. He insists he walked the entire route from Venezuela to the U.S., which isn’t uncommon for migrants, even children.

“It was easy,” Medina said, shrugging.

Hyka couldn’t hide her disbelief. “What?!”

“I have more energy than all the people,” he reasoned. “I am more crazy.”

Medina said he wasn’t a huge fan of the music classes. He was far more interested in baseball.

Suarez said it was the responsibility of students to work hard regardless of their goals, and the school’s responsibility to nurture them through art and other means.

“We try our best here at the school to provide an environment where they can kind of – I know it’s difficult to say to forget – but to at least assure them that they’re safe here,” said Suarez, “and that their new life begins here.”

Students at I.S. 235 will resume musical training in the fall.