June is supposed to be a celebration.
The school year is over.
The final bells ring.
Classrooms are packed up.
Photos are taken.
Kids walk out with report cards and popsicles.
But for many immigrant parents, June feels less like a celebration—and more like quiet survival.
We made it… but barely.
Behind every child who crossed that finish line this month is a parent who wrestled with fear, language barriers, unfamiliar systems, and the weight of not knowing what’s "normal" in this country.
You see the smiles in the hallway.
The teachers high-fiving students.
The parents chatting outside the school.
But you don’t always see the immigrant parent in the background—smiling nervously, unsure whether they belong in the celebration.
You don’t see the parent who:
- Sat through every parent-teacher conference not fully understanding but refusing to give up.
- Skipped work to attend a school event, even if they felt out of place.
- Felt shame when their child struggled with reading or math, wondering if it's their fault for not knowing how to help.
- Translated school emails late at night, hoping they didn’t miss anything important.
- Whispered “I’m sorry” when they couldn’t afford the field trip, the school picture, the yearbook.
This is the silent struggle of June.
It’s not just the end of the school year. It is the culmination of a year of pushing through systems that weren’t built for you. It’s watching your child adapt faster than you. It’s holding pride in one hand and self-doubt in the other.
And still—you showed up.
You cheered them on.
You kept asking questions.
You dried tears, packed lunches, braided hair, and figured it out—day after day.
Teachers, we see you too.
We know that some of you made extra calls, translated instructions, stayed after school to meet with parents who were too anxious to speak during pickup. Some of you became bridges between two worlds—and that made all the difference.
If you are reading this as a parent who felt unseen this year, hear this:
You were never invisible.
Your struggle mattered.
Your effort counted.
And your child knows you tried.
June doesn’t always look like a party.
Sometimes it looks like survival.
But survival is still success.
So, take a breath.
Exhale the weight of the year.
You made it.
Even if it was just barely—you made it.
And that is worth honoring.
