Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, as the sun begins to set and the last traces of daylight creep behind trees that surround Creekside Community Church, a group of dedicated students and teachers gather in a modest classroom. This room has become an essential space for many immigrants in the Gainesville community – a place to learn English and, for a few hours, escape the uncertainty of life as an immigrant in the United States.
Dorleys opens her notebook and sharpens her pencil with the electric pencil sharpener she brings from home. The Venezuelan mother and caretaker laughs with Jorge, an Ecuadorian construction worker, about their English proficiency. Jorge is normally in the advanced class, Dorleys in the beginner. However, with fewer students this Thursday evening, the classes merge. They have been in these classes together before. For many immigrants like Dorleys and Jorge, both of whom requested their last names not be disclosed for privacy reasons, these Tuesday and Thursday evenings are a time to sit in a classroom, learn and laugh. In every seat of the classroom, there is a familiar presence: "fe," faith.
Under the glow of LED lights, tables are gathered in a horseshoe shape around the classroom. The doors are open. Sounds of birds and rustling leaves provide a calming air. The church that hosts the weekly classes is nestled at the entrance of a winding and shaded trail. It's tempting to walk past the church and wander over the small bridge into the fantastical trail with its streams and vines. However, the people who come here every Tuesday and Thursday know exactly where they are going.
Volunteer teachers Nicole Lunsford and Elijah Zarsadias arrive half an hour before the class begins (6:30 p.m.) to set up. They write "questions with present tense" on the white board. Dorleys and Jorge are the first to arrive. They ask me for the name of the radio station I work with. "In English," they both correct me when I offer the Spanish station. "We need practice."
That was the tone of the rest of that Thursday evening class. Students ask the teachers to give instructions in English. If they don't understand, they'll say so. By the end of class, students like Dorleys and Jorge are able to read posters and invites that offer information like addresses, times and themes. Zarsadias teaches them what a 21st "sign-nite" is (a party for someone's 21st birthday where friends make a sign with 21 things to do). The class is a mix of adults from ages 20 to 40 and one little girl playing on a phone. Everyone is glad to learn about this American, college-aged cultural event.
Lunsford and Zarsadias confirm that class sizes have decreased since the first ICE raid in Gainesville earlier this year. It was never a large group to begin with. Lunsford would teach the advanced class and Zarsadias the beginner. Each class would have around eight students on a good day. On a day like this Thursday, there were five students in total. The classes separated again the following week, with around three students in Zarsadias' beginner group.
" Dios todo lo pone en tu paso," Dorleys says about Gainesville. "God puts everything in your path."
Dorleys is one of over seven million Venezuelans who have been displaced, according to the Interagency Coordination Platform for Refugees and Migrants. She arrived in Gainesville over two years ago with her daughter. She is grateful that she, her brother, daughter, mother and even a niece have been able to come together in Florida. However, she feels a constant pressure, "presión" of not knowing what her future holds in the U.S.
This pressure stems from recent changes in U.S. immigration policy. Dorleys is not a citizen. She is here under a visa, but immigrant status has never been secure.
There are many routes to legally immigrate to the U.S. Dorleys was able to come because her brother, who arrived in Gainesville under a work visa, was here first. If you have family in the U.S, you can petition to immigrate where they are. However, while waiting for citizenship, which can be a lengthy process, she is subject to deportation. The 1952 Immigration and Naturalization Act outlines the many ways people can and cannot immigrate and become citizens. Of all the rules and guidelines, it does not protect those without citizenship from deportation.
Since the beginning of his winning presidential campaign, President Donald Trump said he would perform mass deportations. According to the Associated Press, more than 200 Venezuelans have been deported to El Salvador. As long as there are officers and resources, the Trump administration can deport non-citizens. As of March 13, according to Homeland Security, over 32,000 people have been arrested by Immigration Customs and Enforcement. Over half of these arrests were of accused or convicted criminals. This doesn't change the fear for immigrants and students like Dorleys.
Volunteer teacher Nicole Lunsford and Ericka Ghersi, president of the Latina Women's League, both notice the changes in students since the new administration took office. Ghersi has been part of the league since its formation in 2005. She started volunteering as an English teacher while she was a student at the University of Florida. Now, 20 years later, as president of the league and a full time ESOL (English for speakers of other language) teacher, she sees the value in these classes more than ever.
"Things are bad, but we have to be patient," she says. "We have to have faith, because we have no other choice." Ghersi sits through some of the Thursday English class, then conducts other league work in a room across the hall. The league's executive board is preparing for its 21st annual Latino Film Festival. As an immigrant from Peru, Ghersi is in tune to the plight of the community the league serves. She left Peru as a student when she was 22. Most of her family is still in the South American country. Ghersi left and stayed away to avoid the political and eventual economic struggles that stemmed from the Peruvian terrorist group, Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path). Since the group's leader was captured in 1992, international relations with Peru have improved.
"We are helping a population in need of learning the language. That is a barrier for everyone." Ghersi says of the classes. "To be able to have access to a better job, or at least to be able to understand everything that people tell you. That's very important." When some students stopped showing up, they messaged Ghersi to tell her they were afraid to be deported. She says she admires their efforts to learn English in this difficult time.
The teacher and president of the league says the members are hard workers and committed people. Volunteer teacher Lunsford sees the passion and work ethic of her students as well. According to a 2021 linguistic study, the main barriers that can hinder language learning are different kinds of anxiety. Lunsford says she has seen the change in her students due to the deportations and policy changes around the country.
"People who don't really feel safe going to class, and I think that it's awful," Lunsford says, noting the importance of the classes the league offers like language classes, citizenship classes and immigrants' rights workshops. The UF biology student says she is grateful for the immigrant and Latino community. Lunsford wants to be a doctor and to learn as many languages as possible so she can better serve her patients.
" Everyone I have met here has been absolutely amazing," she says. "[They] have helped me learn more about cultures that I think are beautiful and brilliant and that I wouldn't have had the opportunity to know about without these classes. I am just very grateful to be able to be in this space and to be welcomed and to be taught because every time I'm here, I am teaching English, but they also help teach me Spanish."
In the unassuming room in the church cosseted by trees and vines, students and teachers learn from one another. Dorleys learns English, Lunsford learns Spanish, Ghersi learns about the community from Lunsford and Dorleys, and everyone learns about "sign-nites" and countries they may never see. Dorleys has been coming to the classes for almost a year. She says she is proud that now she can answer casual things like "how are you?" in English.
"I love Gainesville," Dorleys says. "I don't want to leave, but… here we are." Dorleys takes care of her ailing mother and acts as a driver for parents who can't drive their kids to and from school. The caretaker and mother says if her current immigrant status is lost, she doesn't know where they'll go. Venezuela is not an option. A combination of democratic breakdown, economic turmoil and a lack of essential goods are just some of the reasons many have fled Venezuela. According to the Migration Policy Institute, the U.S hosts over 700,000 migrants from the South American country. Tensions have risen with the deportation of over 200 Venezeulans to El Salvador under the rarely-used Aliens Enemies Act of 1798 to justify the deportations of those with criminal records or arrests. Recent reports, however, challenge Trump's claims that the Nicolas Maduro regime controls the Venezuelan gang, Tren de Aragua. It is unclear how many of the gang members have travelled alongside migrant caravans, justifying Trump's use of the 1798 act. In even more recent developments, the Supreme Court did rule that the Trump administration can remove the protected status of the over 300,000 thousand Venezuelans in the US.
According to a 2023 census, a little over 12% of Gainesville residents are foreign-born. The English language classes offered for free by the Latina Women's League are for anyone who wants to learn the language. Lunsford says she's had students who wanted to learn for fun or because they needed to learn to get a job. Dorleys wants to learn so she can find better work and be able to offer her mother better care. So, after the class is dismissed, Dorleys and Jorge make jokes in Spanish and tell each other to practice English before they see each other next.
"That is our hope, to have a home here," she says. Every class is a step toward that dream. Whether it's the knowledge that they can now read a flyer that lists a local event or simply the ability to joke with a friend in English, the students are building more than just language skills– they are building a sense of belonging. For Dorleys, Jorge and the many others who walk through its doors, this classroom remains a symbol of patience, faith and the power of language to connect people across borders and backgrounds.
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