I first met "Ali" in the school setting where we both work. He's an educator originally from Iran, and I recently interviewed him as part of my personal podcast project "Tell Me Your Story". The purpose of this podcast is to share meaningful experiences of international students and educators, focusing on their journeys through language learning, cultural adaptation, and professional growth in my school and hopefully next year will expand to other schools in the district. There are local students interviewing international students, teachers and parents.
Ali has lived in the U.S. for over a decade, having arrived in 2011 with dreams of advancing his education and supporting his family from abroad. Despite the challenges he faced, Ali successfully completed a master’s degree and is now working on his PhD in education. Currently, he's an English teacher who actively engages with his community, passionately sharing insights about language and culture.
One of Ali’s proudest achievements isn't his academic credentials, but rather obtaining his first teaching position shortly after arriving in the U.S. This moment was a turning point for him:
“When I got the job and I was still a grad student, I said: okay, this is my proud moment. This is when I felt that I could really make a difference.”
However, when Ali first arrived, he encountered many unforeseen obstacles. Although his university provided a basic orientation, he quickly realized it didn't cover the critical cultural nuances necessary to navigate life in America. He vividly recalled:
“Nobody told me about plagiarism… not even at my university orientation. Nobody told me about tax complexities, the job market, or how to refuse an invitation politely.”
These cultural and pragmatic gaps were significant hurdles during his early years. Yet, Ali didn’t let these difficulties defeat him. Instead, he turned his challenges into areas of research and growth, leading him to specialize in speech acts and pragmatics in his doctoral studies. Ali firmly believes that understanding cultural interactions, such as apologizing, inviting, rejecting invitations politely, is crucial for international students’ success:
“If I break your iPhone, I cannot just say ‘sorry, my bad.’ I need to officially apologize and offer to replace it. That’s something our students don’t know unless someone teaches them.”
Listening to Ali's story, I couldn't help but reflect deeply on my own experience as a Costa Rican educator in the United States. Like Ali, I arrived full of hope yet overwhelmed by uncertainty. During my first months, I often felt invisible, isolated, and without guidance. I felt I was making so many mistakes, and no one offered me coaching or mentoring; I felt like a ghost navigating a foreign system, just like Ali described:
“The Untold cultural aspects of the United States, the untold one, the ones that I was told about, yes, I was able to handle that, but the untold ones that nobody told me about, not even at my university orientation.”
This statement resonated deeply. As immigrants, what we need most isn't just instructions but someone in the figure of a "local advisor" to genuinely see and hear us and give us practical advice that would help us make less mistakes or stay away from trouble.
Another similarity Ali and I share is our drive for academic advancement. In Costa Rica, my financial situation as a teacher prevented me from pursuing higher degrees. Coming to the U.S. gave me the chance to fulfill my dream of earning a master's degree and pursuing doctoral studies. Attending the 2025 TESOL conference further solidified my ambition and allowed me to visualize my future as a presenter, mirroring Ali’s passion for research.
Despite these similarities, our journeys also differ. While Ali specializes in academic research on pragmatics, my passion lies in community-building within the classroom, supporting newly arrived students, and emotionally connecting with their families. While Ali focuses on language research, I am deeply involved in after-school clubs, family outreach, and student mentorship programs. Yet, we both agree profoundly on one critical point: culture is inseparable from education. Teaching isn't just delivering content, it involves deeply understanding and respecting our students' backgrounds and identities.
Interviewing Ali was a profoundly enriching experience. It allowed me not only to learn about a colleague's unique journey but also to understand my own journey better. His reflections echoed many of my own experiences, frustrations, and dreams. Despite our diverse cultural backgrounds, we both strive for dignity, belonging, and purpose in a new country.
Ali emphasized the necessity of cultural competence:
“Teaching strategies are important, but if you are not culturally competent, there is no way you can create a safe space for your students.”
This reminded me that my role extends beyond teaching languages, it is about creating a secure environment where students, many newcomers like myself, feel valued, heard, and empowered.
I completely agree. Creating a safe environment goes far beyond classroom rules. It means getting to know our students deeply, where they come from, what they’ve experienced, what their families are going through. As Ali explained, sometimes students are physically present but mentally checked out because of fear, immigration pressure, or trauma.
We also talked about heritage language, something very personal to both of us. For Ali, maintaining Farsi at home with his son is essential. They use Iranian media, attend cultural gatherings, and travel to Iran when they can. For me, it’s important that my son Ethan grows up connected to Costa Rica. That’s why we go back every summer. I want him to see rural life, understand the privilege he has in the U.S., and feel proud of where he comes from. Ali stated this accurately by saying this powerful and beautiful phrase:
“The heritage language is one of the most important identities a human can carry.”
At the end of our conversation, I asked Ali what keeps him passionate about teaching and research, and his answer reminded me of why I became a teacher too.
“Not the system, not the salary. Kids. A teacher changed my life. I want to be that teacher for someone else.”
That’s it. That’s the heart of it. It’s the students who keep us going, their joy when they understand something, their relief when someone finally sees them, their progress, even if it’s small. And research, as Ali said, keeps us grounded. It tells us if we’re doing the right thing, or if we need to adjust.
Interviewing Ali reminded me that we are not alone on this journey. There are many of us who come from faraway places, who carry stories of struggle and growth, and who now teach with a purpose that goes far beyond a lesson plan. We are here to make a difference, not just in academics, but in people’s lives.
Ultimately, this project reinforced my commitment to continue sharing stories like Ali’s, stories of educators crossing physical, linguistic, and cultural borders, transforming their lives and those of their students. Every teacher has a powerful story worth telling, and it’s vital that we keep listening.
Here is the link to the interview
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