After 30 years as a New Yorker, Felix Grimaldo decided it was finally time to become an American.

Grimaldo, 66, sure seemed like one. He paid his taxes on income from a range of jobs that included cooking for Wall Street workers, staffing a Hilton hotel and igniting Malibu 151 as a bartender of exotic Polynesian drinks. His English was good. His baseball vocabulary was better.

As the years rolled on, through love, marriage and fatherhood, the native Peruvian kept putting off citizenship.

But in 2003, he took the plunge. Grimaldo joined dozens of other immigrants attending citizenship classes at Fordham Bedford Children’s Services (FBCS). Somewhere between jobs, he memorized which states were the Union’s 47th and 50th (New Mexico and Hawaii). He got the presidential cabinet down pat. He was coached on what to wear and how to act.

“I was worried because it’s very important,” said Grimaldo, who lives on Bainbridge Avenue. “But I wasn’t nervous because I had studied so much.”

Last week, Grimaldo joined dozens of other local residents in a room strewn with red, white and blue balloons and flag-print tablecloths. It was hokey, and rightly so. For these new citizens, their American pride — and citizenship status — is finally recognized.

“I am very proud,” said Grimaldo, during FBCS’s first annual citizenship ceremony at Concourse House. “I so wanted to be an American.”

As the immigration debate rages in Washington, FBCS has quietly helped area residents integrate into American society through weekly citizenship classes. The program, a joint effort with Our Lady of Refuge Church, began in 1996 as a response to the growing number of residents applying to become citizens.

Many of them weren’t prepared. “We had a lot of people going to take the test, but they were failing,” said John Garcia, FBCS’s executive director.

Most permanent U.S. residents can apply for citizenship, but it requires time, money and patience. Applicants must first fill out paperwork and come up with the $400 fee. After a few months, they are fingerprinted. Following another wait, there is the dreaded interview and exam. They are given their results that day.

Frankie Resto, FBCS’s citizenship instructor for the past five years, covers everything from the Constitution to fingernail hygiene in his classes. Most students also take ESL, as the interview is in English. “There are so many things involved,” said Resto, who advises his students to avoid jeans and be forthcoming, but not overly eager.

The interview is very personal. Questions cover political affiliations (communists are frowned upon), and sexual history (Ever been a prostitute? How about a polygamist?).

“They put them on the hot seat, so we try to take their nervousness away,” Resto said.

FBCS’s approach has yielded success. Resto says all but two of his 72 students have become citizens, including those who could barely speak English when they began. He takes tremendous pride in each one. “I have them call me immediately after they find out,” said Resto, who was near tears during the ceremony.

Last week’s 22 honorees were a mix of young mothers and laborers, and older gentlemen with groomed hair and tight suit coats. Many forfeited precious work hours to receive a commemorative plaque and a slice of sheet cake that congratulated “the new American citizens,” in Spanish. They came from countries all over the Caribbean and the Americas. Many shared similar reasons for becoming citizens.

“You can vote,” said William Sanchez, 38, a Valentine Avenue resident. “You have a right to decide. We want to do our part.”

Grimaldo also can’t wait to pull the electoral lever. “I know some people just want to bring their family, but I want to vote,” he said.

Sanchez’ sister, Altagracia Contreras, sought benefits for her daughters. Through a public scholarship, Contreras’ 14-year-old can now attend the prestigious Riverdale Country School.

Immigration legislation is being bitterly debated these days. But Garcia stressed that these new citizens are following in the America tradition. “[Many] of our founding fathers were [not] from this country,” said Garcia, who is Dominican. “We’re adding to this country, not taking from it.”

They may now be full-fledged Americans, but los nuevos ciudadanos (new citizens) aren’t relinquishing their roots. Amid the patriotic party decorations, the buffet featured arroz con pollo and the stereo served up hot salsa songs.

Grimaldo has had a foot in several cultures in the 30 years since he first landed at JFK Airport. His Peruvian black clams are sensational, but so are his Mai Tais. He still visits Lima, and is accompanied by his Puerto Rican wife.

His can-do attitude, however, is all-American. “I came here to work hard. I took two jobs,” he said. “You sacrifice, and you make something good of yourself.”