In Baghdad, before the 2003 US invasion, Toma drove a taxi around his city. In Manchester, he doesn't know enough English to pass the driver's license test. So he and Zaya walk the children to school, then trudge 20 minutes each way to mandatory English classes at the institute. On a typical day, they go to class, pick up the kids, and maybe stop at a market for supplies.
During a recent English lesson, Zaya and Toma sat together in their class, which consists of three folding tables pushed together and covered with brightly colored workbooks. Refugees from Russia, Burundi, and Vietnam smiled good-naturedly as teacher Ellen Bishop taught them survival English, such as "Can you fix it?" "Thank you," and that "fridge" is short for refrigerator.
Toma peered at a picture of a flooded sink. "It's very water," he said. The teacher smiled and corrected him, "The sink is stopped up."
Still, the young family is hopeful for the opportunities America might bring. Both Zaya and Toma came from large, blue-collar families and had to drop out of school in the ninth grade.
Now, he dreams of owning a <ORG idsrc="NYSE" value="MCD">McDonald's</ORG> franchise, since he worked in a restaurant in Turkey. She would love to study computer science. Their daughter, Linda, who loves playing with Barbie dolls, wants to be a dentist.
Andy, a soccer fan who plays Atari after he finishes his homework, wants to be a fighter pilot, like the ones he saw flying planes over Iraq. His father is gently trying to change his mind