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Immigrants' children are sometimes agonizingly aware of the traits that mark them as foreign. Among these: their names. Jorge Orellana, 8, the son of immigrants from El Salvador, says classmates in a Chicago school taunted him with the words "Mexican kid." He now introduces himself as George. Son Nguyen's 16-year-old brother asks new acquaintances whether they want "my American or Vietnamese name." He is Tien to his family, Tim to others.
Parents may encourage such a switch. Says Vietnamese Refugee Le Giau, a resident of Fountain Valley, Calif.: "They should change their names because it's easier for them when they go to work." His three daughters, Hanh, Tien and Trang, are now known as Hannah, Christina and Jennifer. Food too can be a sensitive issue. "My brother wants to become American all the way," says Imelda Ortiz, 17, who left Mexico for Houston at age one. "He tells my mother to cook American food like meat loaf and potatoes. Instead we cook rice and beans and fajitas (skirt steak)."
Parents' speaking a foreign language can embarrass children. Riki Hayashi, 6, shocked his Japanese-born mother Kaori last year by announcing that he did not want her to speak her native tongue when his schoolmates came to visit at their Culver City, Calif., home. "All his friends are American, and in his concept of himself he is American," sighs Kaori. The parents' poor command of English can prove awkward. Children are pressed into service for their immigrant parents in all kinds of circumstances: when the electric company sends a dunning notice, the landlord needs a lease signed, a policeman needs information.
Unlike offspring of native-born Americans, many children of immigrants learn early that frivolity is a luxury they can ill afford. Frequently they begin working before they become teenagers. "They're capitalists, almost to the person," notes Psychiatrist Coles. After school and on weekends, Le Giau's four children help out at the family's pastry shop. Hannah, 18, minds the cash register and serves customers. Vinh, 17, who has kept his name because it is easy to pronounce as "Vin," works the cleanup detail. Christina, 15, washes dishes, and Jennifer, 12, aids her mother Therese with the baking and cake decorating. "American children don't understand," says Hannah. "They don't know why I can't go to the beach." As a consequence, many immigrants' children look upon home-grown Americans only as casual friends.
For the children of emigres, the emphasis is on education. "When they have good knowledge, they make good money," explains Vong Ly, a Hmong tribesman from Laos who now lives in Banning, Calif., with seven of his nine children, ages eight to 17. Medicine, law, engineering, business and computer science are the favored fields. Le Trinh, a Vietnamese-born Chinese who arrived in Houston five years ago, will enter Texas A&M in the fall to study engineering. "It's not my favorite subject," she admits. "I love teaching, but that pays too low."