Waking up at seven o’clock in the morning on a Saturday was never an enjoyable experience for me as a kid. The drive from my small suburb of Mount Prospect to Chicago every morning was dreadful, because I knew that I was about to spend three extra hours of my week at school. At 8:30 in the morning, I would enter the doors of the school and sit down alongside my fellow Polish classmates. From preschool through the eleventh grade, I attended St. Constance School of Polish learning on Saturday mornings. My parents came to the U.S. from Poland in the late 1990s, and felt it necessary for my siblings and I to have a profound Polish education. Every week we would spend half of the class learning Polish language, grammar, and literature, while
