As Congress weighs a Senate measure to make English the national or common language of the United States, many of the immigrants the legislation would affect say they wouldn't have it any other way.

"The need to learn English" is what Colombian immigrants Claudia Lopez and Christian Echeverry say drives them to attend night classes twice a week at Prince of Peace Lutheran Church, near Azalea Park. They do so even though they have to bring their two daughters because they can't afford baby-sitting.

They know that speaking English can open doors. And despite concerns from immigrant advocates who see the language measures as divisive, some newcomers, such as Lopez and Echeverry, echo advocates of the proposed legislation who say the U.S. is within its rights to decide what language to call its own.

It's one reason English classes are in high demand in Orlando, where the immigrant population has surged as more Mexicans, Colombians, Venezuelans and Dominicans discover Central Florida's strong job market.

Whenever free courses are offered, community groups say, waiting lists quickly soar from dozens to hundreds.

"One sees more opportunities with English," Lopez, 33, said in Spanish. "You can connect to other people and get better jobs. I personally think that Americans become exasperated when we don't understand what they say. I get frustrated, too."

The immigration-reform bill passed Thursday by the Senate included a provision declaring English the official national language, sending immigrants such as Lopez the message that they should learn English if they want to live in this country.

In Senate votes on May 18, an amendment made English "the national language." Another called it "the common and unifying language" of the United States. Both proposals stated that government should not be expected to provide services in any other language, unless specified by law, as in bilingual ballots and bilingual education.

But the language measures, some critics say, do not address a real problem.

"The vote was a waste of time. English is the de facto language of government and business in this country," said Kenya Dworkin y Mendez, a Hispanic-studies professor at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh. "The officialization of the language is simply a rhetorical exercise. . . . Hispanic immigrants are learning and becoming English monolinguals faster than previous generations of immigrants."

Numbers show that Hispanics -- now the majority of the U.S. immigrant population -- are not only learning English, but also are losing their language in the process.

A 2002 national survey by the Pew Hispanic Center and the Kaiser Family Foundation found that 60 percent of all Hispanics either are bilingual or speak mostly English. Moreover, 59 percent of first-generation immigrants eventually become bilingual or even prefer English. By the second generation of U.S.-born Hispanics, only 3 percent prefer Spanish.

"It's happening with all immigrants," said Eduardo Blanchet, director of Berlitz Language Center in south Orlando. "Nowadays, the U.S. government is desperate to find people who speak Arab, Farsi or Chinese, and the same government knows that the pressure on immigrants to assimilate has led many to forget their languages."

The interest in English learning is evident to language schools such as Blanchet's as well as to the groups and churches trying to fulfill the need.

The Orlando advocacy group Latino Leadership, for instance, already has a waiting list of about 200 people for a summer class that will only accommodate about 90 students. The GROWS Literacy Council in Apopka often sends overflow students to the nearby St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church to keep its class sizes at about 30 students.

The Asociacion Borinquena de Florida Central, a Puerto Rican social cub that recently started classes, says it already needs more money to satisfy demand in east Orange County. Prince of Peace Lutheran in east Orlando hopes to obtain a grant to build a low-cost English school, with meals and child-care services included.

"We have had a phenomenal response," said the Rev. Adolfo Borges, the church's pastor. "We put up the sign announcing the classes, and a week later we have to take it down."

Even the Orange County Library System, which acquired software for self-taught English lessons at its Southeast branch, said it has to limit user time on its computers to fit in the immigrants who show up some afternoons.

Latifa Masey, a Moroccan who speaks French, was there honing her pronunciation skills Thursday. She says she knows that English will be key for her to get the job she wants as a pharmacy technician.

"They should do that," Masey, 45, said of the push to make English official. "You are in another country, and you have to learn the language. . . . If everybody speaks his language, it's not America."

At the church's school, teacher Laura Alves, 33, says her students are so interested in learning that they don't want breaks during the two-hour class. "They are definitely not here for socialization," Alves said.

In her class, Lopez and Echeverry, both 33, took turns keeping their daughters amused as they learned how to greet others politely. Alves read to them from an Elmo children's book that their 5-year-old daughter, Marina, already could understand.

Lopez was a nurse in Colombia; Echeverry was an accountant. In Orlando, she cleans houses, and he works as a carpenter. They can't help their daughter with homework.

Even their 2-year-old, Juliana, is learning words in English that they don't know -- quickly leaving them behind, on the other side of the language divide.

Victor Manuel Ramos can be reached at vramos@orlandosentinel.com or 407-420-6186.
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