During fall semester 2024, students in the Stories of Migration English class wrote New Yorker–style research articles on topics of migration. This type of writing, called literary journalism, comes out of the new journalism literary movement of the 1960s and 1970s that pairs journalistic research about real-life events with fiction writing techniques.

English Teacher Alana Kaholokula said the heart of the course is to highlight and elevate the stories of people who are experiencing migration or people who are supporting migrants. The class talks about the definition of a migrant, expanding their scope beyond the idea of people migrating across country borders to people moving out of one community and into another. “Since all of the students are seniors, we discuss how leaving home for college means they are migrants entering new communities,” she said.

Alana asks students what borders they are crossing to step outside of their lives to learn about people for their projects. “With their project choices, students are either picking up a mirror that reflects their own lives or opening a door to something they don’t know anything about,” she said.

The fiction writing techniques the students use to write their papers also expands their writing abilities. “The students are challenged to think about how they are constructing sentences and telling stories and this project often helps the students find their authentic writing voices,” said Alana.

Below are excerpts of some of these articles and a brief description of why the writer chose this topic.

During UPrep senior Belen S.’s internship with Teens in Public Service (TIPS) last summer, she observed nonprofit organizations support people from various backgrounds. Inspired to learn more, she focused her project on exploring one of these organizations more deeply. She shadowed the Hunger Intervention Program (HIP), where she interviewed Aidyn Stevens, the meal coordinator, to gain insight into their work. She mainly focused on HIPS work with immigrant seniors. 

Excerpt from “Beyond Meals” by Belen S.:

The once-hidden tables now come to life, spreading throughout the room and adorned with carefully arranged dishes. Each meal is thoughtfully prepared, balancing nutrition with the comforting flavors of home. Tuesdays signal the arrival of the Hunger Intervention Program (HIP), transforming this space into a haven where sharing a meal fosters comfort, connection, and community warmth. HIP, a non-profit organization, is dedicated to providing free, nutritious, and healthy food to those in need. On this specific day, I witness their East African Food Program (EAFP) in action, offering culturally familiar meals to East African immigrants, ensuring not just sustenance but a taste of home.

The value of belonging is noticeable the moment I step into the meal distribution area. The tables are filled with Amharic conversion, occasionally accompanied by an English word or two. 

At the first table, I notice an elderly man in a white gown speaking softly to a woman next to him—his wife, as I later learn: “Addis, yihen mokriew. Like endenate new,” which translates to “Addis, try this one, it tastes like your mom’s.” Slowly, she reaches over, taking a small bite from his plate, and as the taste registers, a quiet smile spreads across her face. It lasts only a moment before her hands return to her own food, but her husband’s eye stays fixed on her.

I continue weaving through the room, moving from table to table, soaking in the lively conversation and warm exchanges. When I reach the sixth table, one of the elderly women looks up at me with a kind smile and says, “Neye ezi gar, abren enebla,” which translates to “come join us.” The smile feels very genuine, and the nod of approval when I say, “I would love to” feels like no other. 

UPrep senior Jackson S. is a fourth-generation rancher. Growing up immersed in the agricultural world, he worked alongside migrant agricultural workers and witnessed the sacrifices of their work demands. These experiences inspired him to explore the critical role migrant workers play in supporting the agricultural sector of our nation’s economy. Through his project, Jackson interviewed Saul Inga, a migrant agricultural worker, to craft a narrative highlighting his journey and contributions. Jackson’s project delves into themes of resilience, labor, and community through the lens of Inga’s firsthand experiences. 

Excerpt from “Migrant Workers: Vital Shadows of American Society” by Jackson S.:

The story of Saul Bruno Inga is a testament to a broader narrative shared by millions of migrant workers whose tireless efforts form much of the backbone of America’s agricultural economy. For many Americans in urban metropolises, the vast agricultural lands—encompassing nearly 40% of our nation—often recede into the periphery, like a landscape that never entirely comes into focus. Beneath the vineyards, cornfields, orchards, and grazing land is a legion of migrant workers whose hands cultivate our nation's resources. As the era of traditional cowboys and retiring farmers wanes, we now benefit from these workers' grit and resilience. According to the New American Economy, “In many states known for their fresh produce, immigrant farm laborers make up large shares of miscellaneous agriculture workers.” Recognizing their contributions is critical; overlooking them ignores an essential fabric of our nation’s strength.

One man’s strength is embedded some forty miles from Meeker, Colorado, amidst the rolling sage flats. Here, I found myself waiting for Inga. The unmistakable smell of manure and dirt hung in the air. As I gazed outside through a homemade stained-glass window, I spotted a man no taller than five and a half feet tall hop out of a blue New Holland tractor and stride toward the house. As Inga approached and his appearance became more apparent, I noticed his shirt, torn at the elbow, and worn-out jeans, smeared with oil and other stains that I couldn't place. After the aged screen door swung open and slammed shut, I was face-to-face with a man whose dedication to his work clearly defined him; somehow, in his presence, you could feel his substance, and it was much deeper than the stereotype one often forms based on appearances alone. A passerby on the county road might look at Inga and think “immigrant” or “migrant worker,” their perception gilded by stereotypes formed from afar; they wouldn’t feel his presence.

As the man introduced himself—“Hello Jackson, I am Saul”—and extended his hand, I realized that I was with someone who, despite the appearance of a consummate worker, also carried vulnerability in his eyes. At that moment, he personified my newfound understanding of the spirit of the migrant agriculture worker: resilient, determined, and undeniably human.  

Muhamed A. is a senior at UPrep and a second-generation citizen of the United States. His goal for his project was to learn more about some of the customs and traditions of Somalia, his home country. This deep fascination stems from the fact that he has lived in the U.S. his whole life without being able to witness Somali traditions firsthand. However, one thing he did know about is a mutual money-lending system in Somali culture called Ayuuto. As a child, he would sometimes hear his mother talk about Ayuuto whenever she needed money for the family. He realized that he wanted to learn more about what Ayuuto actually is. He interviewed a successful Ayuuto business owner named Xalimo Jama to learn more.

An Excerpt from “From War to Triumph: The Role of Ayuuto in the Somali Community” by Muhammed A.:

Ayuuto is an age-old Somali financial system, stemming from the Italian word Aiuto. It is essentially a female-run interest-free rotating saving concept that is based upon mutual trust. For Jama, Ayuuto wasn’t a new concept. “I used to see my mother dealing with Ayuuto as a child and I always knew how important it was. She used to use Ayuuto whenever a crisis happened in our family or whenever she needed to pay for something expensive. However, it was the first time I used Ayuuto for myself,” Jama says.

Having a system that was female led was also very important for Jama. “I always loved that Ayuuto is a female run system. In Somali culture, women are often underrepresented. Being able to have something that we can control shows just how important we women are even if it isn't clearly represented in Somali culture,” Jama says. Somali society has historically been patriarchal, but after the freedom of Somalis from colonialism, the role of Somali women in finance with things like Ayuuto increased dramatically. 

According to the concept of Ayuuto, the members that are a part of the Ayuuto who are typically a part of the same communities (relatives, friends, co-workers, neighbors) pool their money together with an agreed upon amount to be paid by each member every month. This cycle can keep going until they all wish to stop it, or they can continue to pool their money together or even add new members to the contribution if they want. Members are free to decide how to use the money, but the reason this practice is so effective is due to the fact that it helps those who are struggling the most. People typically use Ayuuto money only when they are in need of financial support. So, someone who is poor has more of a need to use the resources more often. Jama often needed to use the Ayuuto more than anyone else in her group. “I felt embarrassed at times constantly asking for money from my group. But I needed the money more than anybody else,” Jama says.

After employing Ayuuto in her life, Jama became the breadwinner for her family. “Ayuuto was so helpful for our family. It was the way we were able to support ourselves in times of desperation even though we came to America with nothing,” says Jama. After using Ayuuto, life for Jama had become a lot easier. She was able to purchase a home for her family and they were able to gain a steady income. Ayuuto was how Jama and her family were able to escape their imminent poverty. That's what inspired Jama to create her own Ayuuto business.

“I created my business five years after we had made it to the U.S., so it was around 2001. I created it with two of my friends and we included many of our other friends and extended family. I started my business because while living in America I've seen many Somalis struggling to make ends meet. I hated seeing my people struggling so much. I wanted to use the little bit of power that I had to make a change. I've seen how Ayuuto can change your life firsthand, so I wanted others to experience it,” says Jama.

Josie B. is a senior at UPrep. Last summer, she spent numerous hours volunteering at Kline Galland Home, a nursing facility located in South Seattle. She supported Kline Galland Home by visiting residents who were lacking company, engaging in small activities with residents like playing cards, drawing, knitting, reading, and more. The Stories of Migration course provided her with the opportunity to explore the world of nursing/assisted living further. She was able to learn more about residents’ experiences, both within the homes—during her visit to Emerald City Living—and in the journeys that led them to assisted living. Her project focuses on the community within assisted living homes and how it is not only the health care that heals the residents, but also the family that is formed along the way. 

An Excerpt from “Fortuitous Family” by Josie B.:

The doors close behind me as I step inside. I am immediately greeted with all different sights, sounds, and smells. My eyes dart throughout the main floor, taking in each scene. To my right, down the first corridor, a group of ten men and women are sitting in front of an overhead projector, watching the afternoon Seahawks game. Close by, in the kitchenette, a group of three residents are preparing popcorn, more than enough for the whole floor. Down the opposite hallway, towards the piano room, a couple of residents are on their own, scattered throughout the book corner on lounge chairs. My ears perk up as I hear in the distance the familiar voice that I spoke with on the phone earlier. It was coming from the fireside room. Eager to put a face to the thick Brooklynite accent, I quickly shuffle over the “Welcome Home” mat and head for the source of the voice. 

Micky Rivera sits at a small circular table tucked away in the far-left corner. She tells me it’s her “lucky table,” especially for playing Scrabble. She bounces her right knee rapidly up and down under the table and her fingers fiddle with the square wooden block letters displayed in a row in front of her. Two other players join Micky at the game table. Directly across from her sits a tall man with rectangular glasses and short, curly hair with intermittent gray streaks. To her right is a woman wearing a thick blue and red striped knitted wool sweater. She introduces herself as Brenda Gilman.

“She always takes the longest,” Brenda tells me, watching Micky closely, who was trying to assemble a word. “She’s a big thinker that one.” 

“What are you saying about me now Bren?” Micky says without looking up from her letters.

“Oh nothing, just that I love you,” Brenda replies. 

Micky and Brenda have known each other for six years now; they do almost everything together. Brenda later tells me that Micky was “the first friend I met,” adding, “and one of the only ones I’ve really made an effort to see every day.” 

Micky and Brenda’s friendship speaks to the wonders of assisted living communities, showcasing how they foster environments for strangers of all different backgrounds and walks of life to come together and build connections. 

In many ways, the very act of moving into an assisted living facility is a form of migration—a migration not unlike the many other forms that are associated with people who relocate for new opportunities or circumstances. Like people who move to a new country or city, elderly residents carry history, culture, and many, many stories. Despite the diversity of experiences, identities, and the varied paths that led them to migrate to an assisted living home, residents find themselves in a shared community—a place where their distinct pasts, no matter how different, converge to form a collective strength. 

As Micky and Brenda share, this migration into assisted living is not just about physical relocation; it is very much an emotional and psychological journey. Residents are not only finding a place to live that can support their requisites, but are also “restarting” their lives, bringing together pieces of their identities from their past and incorporating them into their new environment. Like migrants in any community, residents of assisted living find themselves building a new home together, where they can tell their stories and create new relationships. 

Read more Show Your Work articles.