All-Day, All-Night Courses : ‘Red-Eye’ Citizenship Classes Attract Aliens

There were cooks just off work from kitchens in trendy Westside restaurants. There were janitors and auto mechanics and self-employed carpenters.

One man works as a groundskeeper at a Beverly Hills golf course. Another washes cars. One young woman said she cleans house for a “nice family in Encino.”

Many said they work 12-hour days--two or three jobs, six days a week to support families.

But at 1:30 a.m. Wednesday all were sitting upright at desks, listening raptly to a lecture on the Pilgrims and trying to say “Massachusetts.”

In a city of 24-hour supermarkets, coin laundries and movie theaters, immigrants in Los Angeles now are able to study around the clock to fulfill their dream of American citizenship.

On Tuesday, at the Evans Community Adult School near downtown, the Los Angeles Unified School District began offering 24-hour classes to immigrants seeking U.S. citizenship under the new amnesty law. District officials say it is the first all-day, all-night program in the country.

“I can come here now because children are sleeping. Husband is sleeping. Housework all done. Everything is OK without me,” said Feng Tu, a 37-year-old Taiwanese immigrant, in careful English. “If I want to be American citizen, this is what I have to do.”

The citizenship classes are part of a second phase of the nation’s landmark immigration program, which grants amnesty to immigrants who have been in the United States continuously since January, 1982.

The deadline for applying for amnesty was May 4. Beginning in November, amnesty applicants who have been granted temporary residency will be eligible to apply for permanent residency status. To do so, they must either complete at least 30 hours of instruction in basic English, civics and history courses, or pass a test proving they are competent in these areas.

The Los Angeles district two weeks ago launched the largest citizenship program in the country, enrolling about 25,000 students in 27 adult community schools, said Domingo Rodriguez, director of the program.

At Evans Community Adult School, demand for the classes has been so great that Principal Harlan Barbanell added one to run from 9:30 p.m. to 2 a.m., and another from 2 a.m. to 6 a.m.

‘All Very Logical’

“It’s all very logical, even though it seems weird,” Barbanell said, explaining that the all-night courses meet the needs of adults whose work and family schedules make it impossible for them to attend at any other time.

“These students are imbued with a desire to become Americans,” he said. “And if the only time they can do it is at 2 a.m., then it’s my goal to meet that need.”

Indeed, nearly three times as many students than expected showed up for classes at the campus on Sunset Boulevard and Figueroa Street. Not a student left early from either class, and nearly all vowed to stick it out for the full five weeks.

The 9:30 p.m. to 2 a.m. class had to be moved to a larger room when 70 students jammed into a small 25-desk bungalow across a courtyard from the main school building.

Teacher Was Skeptical

The teacher, John Kao, was skeptical that even the four pre-registered students would show up. He said he had planned to wait awhile and then head home “to get some sleep.”

But by 2:15 a.m., 12 students were seated before him, so he started the class.

Francisco De La Cruz and his wife Marina, Mexican immigrants, echoed the feelings of many of their classmates.

“It is a sacrifice for our family, but this is the only time we have to go to school,” said Francisco, 35, a golf course groundskeeper.

He leaves for work at 5 a.m. and returns home at about 7 p.m.--too late for a 6 p.m. class, but with just enough time to eat dinner and catch the 9:30 p.m. session. On Saturdays he waits tables at a restaurant on the liner Queen Mary in Long Beach.

Marina, 33, cares for their three children all day. Her husband said she is too shy to go to school alone in the daytime. During class, Francisco frequently looked over his wife’s shoulder as she copied into her new notebook the alphabet cards hung across the wall.

“I am a little sleepy,” she said at 11:30 p.m., “but I think I can learn.”

Sitting in front of the couple was 28-year-old Alfredo Luna, also from Mexico, who is proud to say his three jobs--delivering newspapers and driving a messenger van for two business firms--bring in $1,500 a month.

“You may think it is crazy to be in school at this time, but if you want something bad enough you find the power to do it,” he said. “I am not lazy. You can’t be lazy if you want to live well in this country.”

Yawns Plentiful

Yawns were plentiful in both classes. But not a snore could be heard.

Jose Manuel Constanza was wide awake when his 2 a.m. class began. He laughed because he said his wife did not believe that he was going to night school.

Constanza, 45, a Guatemalan who works as a busboy at Harry’s Bar & American Grill in Century City, decided to take the citizenship course rather than unwind after work in front of the television.

He said he asked for special permission to leave work early. Since he cannot afford automobile insurance, he takes a bus from Century City.

“I made up my mind that this is going to be my country now,” he said. “Since the government requires that I take this class, here I am. The time isn’t important to me.”

Thinking About His Future

Jorge Chacon, 40, a Mexican immigrant who earns $5.89 an hour as a janitor at USC, said that ever since he received his temporary residency card he has “been thinking a lot about my future.”

He works cleaning student apartment buildings until 4:30 p.m., then drives to Rosemead to take a plumbing class at a private trade school. By 11:15, he’s back at his apartment near the Los Angeles Convention Center.

Then, he and his wife Rosa go to citizenship class until 6 a.m.

“This is very important to us. We may feel a little sleepy, but we don’t want to be illegal aliens anymore.” Chacon said.