They’ve come from India, Peru, the Philippines, Turkey, South Korea, Guinea, Israel, Romania, China, Japan, and undoubtedly a few others that I can’t remember offhand. They’re musicians, physicians, homemakers, auto workers, graduate students and retirees.

They’re the people I’ve worked with in Washtenaw Literacy’s English as a Second Language drop-in program. Although they’re the ones designated as “learners,” I’ve learned more from them in the last 16 months about the history, culture and geography of their countries than in the rest of my life put together. As I’ve said before, I only hope they’ve benefited as much from our interactions as I have.

I always think about them when I hear or read someone ranting about the terrible toll that immigration is supposedly taking on this country. I understand that my personal experience, which is ultimately the basis of most opinions, is different from that of such folks. I don’t live in Arizona or Texas, and I don’t worry that my taxes are supporting services for non-citizens, or that I’ll lose my job to one of them.

But I do know that if there is one area where proponents of American exceptionalism might have a case, it is that no other country has been as energized, as enriched and as blessed by the legions of humanity that have endured unspeakable hardship to become part of it and share in its promise.

It’s true that far too many of them were ruthlessly exploited, and went to their graves hoping or even believing that their children would be the ones to live the dream that had been denied their parents. It’s true that far too many of them came against their will, like the Africans whose enslavement (in both North and South) propped up the early republic’s economy or the Chinese laborers who built the railroads.

And it’s also true that without their blood, sweat and tears, this country would be an unimaginably different place. As Franklin D. Roosevelt said in a brave speech to the Daughters of the American Revolution, “remember always that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended from immigrants” (or as O. Henry put it, somewhat more acidly and from a different perspective, the “Indian [is] a member of a race to whom we owe nothing except the land on which the United States is situated”).

Without a sense of history’s constant churn and flux, it’s easy to forget that this is an ongoing process. One way in which America is clearly not exceptional is that whoever was already here generally disdained whoever came later. The first wave of anti-immigrant legislation was directed at southern and eastern Europeans, who were regarded as inferior to the northern and western Europeans from whom, oddly enough, the lawmakers and their constituents were descended.

Now it’s the turn of Latinos and Muslims, for the most part. Happily, in my view, they show no more signs of being dissuaded than did their predecessors from other parts of the globe.

I’m not only grateful for what I’ve learned from my learners about their own countries, but also for what I’ve learned about mine. One of my standard conversational ice-breakers is to ask them what they like about this country or, more neutrally, what has surprised them.

Their answers often teach me what not to take for granted. A young woman from Israel was stunned and delighted that merchants would count out her change into her hand after she made a purchase. A doctor from China, fresh from experiencing her first Independence Day parade, couldn’t get over the fact that so many people would voluntarily and safely take to the streets for no other purpose than a good time.

And in the middle of a chat about current events, a Turkish naval officer attending graduate school at the University of Michigan asked if it were actually legal to say that the President of the United States is an idiot.

You bet it is. Welcome to the U. S. of A., my friend. And Happy Fourth of July.