It was the first day of school for my third graders, and they were all coloring. I roamed the room, trying to get a sense of what I was up against. I happened upon Jinhyuk. (Pronounce it Gin-Yuck, as in "What is this, gin? Yuck!") He was coloring everything turquoise. Himself, his family, their house, their trees, the dog, everything. Now, far be it from me to stifle anyone's artistic expression, especially on the first day of third grade, but curiosity ruled the day. "Everything seems to be the same color, Jinhyuk," I observed mildly, "Tell me about that." His neighbor, Cathy, the bossiest kid I've ever worked with, told me about it for him. "It's the only color he's got," she announced, "He only came with one crayon."
That told me something about Jinhyuk. (It told me something about Cathy, too, but that's another story.) It told me he was resourceful; a kid who uses what he's been given to make the best of whatever situation he's in.
This impression was confirmed two months later when he became the center of a minor scandal. One of the fifth grade teachers was holding an "unauthorized" candy sale to raise money for a field trip. Only fifth graders were supposed to know about it. Somehow Jinhyuk, with his limited English skills, caught wind of the sale and managed to sneak across campus during lunch, without a pass, to buy twenty dollars worth of candy from this classroom. Twenty dollars is a lot of cash for a third grader to carry around, but by the time we caught on to him, he had enlarged his fortune to thirty bucks by retailing the candy at a considerable mark-up. People were furious. It was suggested that he donate his earnings to the fifth graders from whom he bought the candy. I argued against it, saying he might not have even known he wasn't supposed to be buying and then selling candy to other kids, and that he'd only been in the country since August. I was told: "That kid knows a lot more than you think he does, Tom."
Which was absolutely correct. In fact, I think most ELL students learn a lot more than most of us think they're learning. Because they're resourceful. They have to be. They're at a new school in a new country, trying to survive.
But the question is, how do we as teachers support them? And this is where I'm on the fence. And it sounds like I'm not the only one, either. The state of Arizona recently implemented a new ELL program (albeit underfunded) that relies mostly on the pull-out approach. Students are taken out of regular classes and given intensive English instruction before going back to the mainstream. On the other hand, the Seattle School District was recently criticized for doing just that. They were advised by an independent consultant to keep their ELL students in the classroom and have the ELL specialists work with them there.
I have seen both models, and I think there's pros and cons either way. Jinhyuk was pulled out for an hour a day by a classic worksheet-slinger. She was a para-educator who meant well, but she simply didn't have the skills and knowledge to work with ELL students. Time spent with her was probably wasted and Jinhyuk would have been better off in my room.
Recently we hired a full-time, certified ELL teacher. She comes to my classroom to pursue her agenda with the six or seven students who qualify for ELL instruction, but she does so in the context of what we're doing. She usually comes in during our literacy time, so she helps these kids with reading and writing while improving their English skills.However, she also targets certain students for intensive, pull-out instruction. One of my second graders last year went to her ELL room every day for half an hour. There were no worksheets, there were no pinatas, but there was a lot of learning.
So what's the best solution?
Sorry, but I think it depends. I think it depends on the school. How big is your ELL population? What are the resources available to you? I think it depends on the students. How much language instruction do they need? What will they be missing if they're pulled out? And of course, it depends on the teacher. (Doesn't it always?) What skills do they bring? Are they able to work in another teacher's classroom? Can they successfully teach language skills in context without knowing exactly what that context will be from day to day? And most importantly, do they know when it's appropriate to pull a kiddo aside for a half-hour a day, knowing they'll be missing something important back in the regular classroom?
Once again, I think that a one-size-fits-all solution doesn't fit all the problems.
But what do you think? I would love to see a rich discussion here about how best to serve our ELL population. Tell us what works, what doesn't work and we'll see if we can't learn something from each other. Because after all, fellow teachers are our best resource, and just like Jinhyuk, we've got to be resourceful if we're going to survive.
Great story, Tom.
Near the end of my teaching career, I was assigned a class called “Homework Hall” where the district stuck all ELL kids. I had 4 girls from Albania who had been in the country for only a few months–their three families had immigrated with almost nothing and were trying to start a restaurant in town. The girls clung to each other and spent lots of time in my class simply trying to get their homework done with lots of pretty direct assistance from me, and discussing clothes, hair, makeup and why they didn’t fit in.
Most of my job centered on trying to advocate for them with their other teachers, some of whom refused to adjust assignments or give the girls a break, grade-wise. A couple of the teachers felt that if they gave the girls Ds or Fs on their progress reports, the school would be forced to hire a true ELL teacher or coach who spoke their language (the Albanian alphabet has 36 characters, BTW). What actually happened is that the girls were punished at home for “bad reports” from school, so starting losing their progress reports on purpose (preferring to be punished at school rather than home…) I ended up disappointed with colleagues who refused to do something they weren’t trained to do–teach kids who didn’t speak English.
In the spring, one of the girls’ fathers slipped in the restaurant and broke his leg. They had no insurance, and didn’t realize that a hospital (well, some hospitals) will treat a serious injury if you can’t pay. They heard (from another Albanian) that there was a hospital in Boston that gave free care, so all three families left their apartments in the middle of the night and drove to Boston. I only know this because one of the girls wrote me a letter from Boston, apologizing because she had several paperback books from my library. I wrote back, saying “keep them, please” but never heard again.
There are deeper layers and questions to your story, Tom–about what we value as a “nation of immigrants.”
That’s an excellent point, and it’s good to hear from a middle school teacher’s perspective. I don’t see the same level of embarrassment in third grade, which I’m sure is developmental. It’s a shame that a program that was so successful is being eliminated due to budget problems!
I teach middle school science, and last year taught 6th-8th ELL science. I was very nervous at first, and had to ask my sister, Kim (yes, this blog’s Kim) for advice. After some encouraging words and the passage of time teaching these kids became a joy, and I felt relevant as a teacher for the first time in a very long while. We shared mutual trust and the kids felt safe enough to read aloud and have discussion.
I learned that these kids were starving for information. By not having to compete with native English speakers, they became more confident and took greater risks in the classroom. I also learned some very interesting things about my kids – customs and habits that were foreign to a regular ol’ teacher. I am at a school where we have 17% ELL, and ELL Social Studies/Language Arts. Because of budgeting problems, the kids will no longer be able to receive ELL science. This breaks my heart, because my students who were confident and eager to share will now be relegated back to their regular role of sitting in silence, praying they don’t get called on because they didn’t understand the question/content, or are embarrassed by their thick accent.
I don’t know how to best serve our ELL population, but I do know that they are very bright and eager to learn, and they have great pride in what they do.