They walked into my classroom giggling and jesting with one another in Spanish. When they saw me, they immediately became somber and sat down, watching every move I made. I looked into a sea of apprehensive, questioning faces.
This was my first day at an inner-city middle school adjacent to the Mexican border. I had taught school in a private setting for seven years, and I was ready for something new. I wanted to expand my experience base to the public schools, particularly schools where the students were different from those with whom I had worked previously. Now I had my chance!
The boys and girls who walked into my room that day reflected the changing demographics in the United States, where the Hispanic population is growing at a rate five times faster than that of the general population. Many of my students were first-generation Americans and were just learning to speak English. Others, although born in the United States, spoke Spanish at home. They had to, as more than 90 percent of their parents did not speak English. Almost all of the youngsters were from low-income households. These students came from a culture that was very different from mine.
Learning from One Another
During my teacher certification process, I took a class in multicultural education. I learned about different ethnic groups and how our varied perspectives on life cause us to view our worlds in very different ways. I learned much more in my classroom.
I knew that, because I was working with students who spoke English as a second language, I needed to speak slowly and clearly, and to use simple vocabulary. I thought I was doing just that until a student asked me to repeat the instructions I had just given. I repeated the instructions, but asked the student to listen more closely that time. The look on his face immediately told me that I had made a mistake.
Later, as we spoke privately, he blurted out, "Miss, you talk too fast! I just don't understand you!"
I was dismayed. I really believed I had slowed my speech sufficiently. I knew I was making a conscious effort to use vocabulary my students understood, and to define the words they needed to learn. The problem was that I hadn't carried my adaptations far enough. I apologized to the student and worked harder to speak more slowly and clearly. A year later, a colleague in a graduate class commented on the clarity of my speech. I remarked that I had my students to thank for that.
My students and I corrected each other and learned from each other daily. My red hair and blue eyes were fascinating to these children. "Miss, do you paint your hair?" was a question I was asked every year. I appreciated the fact that they felt comfortable enough with me to ask such a personal question.
"No, this is natural, but the word you want to use is dye your hair. In English we use paint for painting signs, buildings, and artwork." They would giggle and correct their terminology.
It was my time to learn when I mispronounced the last name Guereca. One of my students taught me how to say it correctly. "Don't say the g like the word go. Say it like this." She demonstrated it again, several times. To me, the g sounded like an English w and the r resembled a very soft d. I now pronounced the name something like "wedeca" but hardly enunciated the d. Suddenly I was improving, and my students grinned. "Miss, that's better!"
The three years I spent at this school were filled with both joy and sadness. The joy came as we made progress and learned about one another. I also experienced overwhelming sadness at times, particularly when I realized there were some children I simply could not help. I remember one boy, a 14-year-old gang member, who told me life didn't matter to him because he knew he'd be dead before he was 21.
A Difficult Challenge
One of the most difficult challenges I faced was convincing my students to become more assertive when they felt they were mistreated or misunderstood by other teachers. Hispanic parents often teach their youngsters that the teacher is always right. I encouraged my students to speak up for themselves, but to do so in a gracious way.
Assertion is different from disrespect, I would tell them:There are right ways and wrong ways to handle these situations. Yes, you must respect your teachers, but it is not disrespectful to talk to them privately and confide that a particular statement made you uncomfortable or hurt you. Very few teachers intentionally say things to hurt their students. They just don't realize how their words are affecting you. You might want to share this with them.
While some of my students began to act on this instruction, others just listened. I still believe the ones who only listened were tucking the information away for a later time when they felt a little more confident.
Shared Frustrations
- "We want to be treated with respect." Unfortunately, some teachers believe that inner-city students do not merit the same amount of time and attention they would give to more affluent students. It is impossible to hide such an attitude. The students know when teachers think less of them, and they retaliate by misbehaving and being disrespectful in the classroom. It's important to remember that all of us respond better when treated with dignity and respect.
- "Don't prejudge us. Not all of us are bad, use drugs, or belong to gangs." Inner-city students grapple with problems far beyond those faced by the average middle-class student. Many of my students were struggling to stay away from drugs and avoid violence. It's as though they were hanging on by threads. They needed support and encouragement, not disapproval.
- "Don't laugh at our English. When teachers laugh, it makes us not want to try anymore." The more our students speak English, the more successful they will be in the classroom. We must do everything possible to make the learning environment comfortable and safe for students.
- "We know you hear bad things about the barrio on TV. It's not really like that. There are just some people who do those things." Unfortunately, some teachers internalize those attitudes and treat the students accordingly. Other teachers who would thrive in the inner-city classroom never consider applying because they hear only the negative news.The rewards of teaching these children are immense. They appreciate teachers who care for them, and they verbalize it frequently. They are very grateful for teachers who hold high expectations and show them how to achieve their goals. The parents, too, are appreciative of teachers who work to make a difference in their children's lives.
- "Don't judge us by the way we dress." That's one complaint I heard often. This particularly bothered my students when they participated in University Interscholastic League competitions with students from more affluent schools. They knew they didn't dress like those kids. In defense, they would say things like, "The kids at that school are all snobs!"
Here was another opportunity to discuss stereotypes and how they hurt everyone. I pointed out that, in calling the other students snobs, they also were perpetuating a stereotype. My students grudgingly acknowledged the truth of that statement.
Easing the Transitions
Too few teachers are willing to work in inner-city schools, helping the students who face so many difficult challenges. And too few of those who do have had enough preparation. Although preservice university classes are helpful, such classes are not sufficient to adequately prepare the teacher who has never worked with inner-city youngsters. We must do more.
The Rural Special Education Project on the Navajo reservation provides teacher interns with firsthand experience before they take teaching positions on the reservation. Data collected from participants in that project strongly suggest that such programs can dramatically increase the rate of job satisfaction and classroom success for teachers who will work with youngsters from cultures that are different from their own.
The barrio was a different culture and a new experience for me. I would like to have spent some time in the neighborhood before my first day of school. An inservice program before the school year started, designed to address my students' special needs, also would have helped immensely.
But despite the difficulties, I would not trade the three years I spent in that classroom. The youngsters I taught were among the most appreciative students I have ever had the pleasure to work with. Together, we learned to recognize and value the differences we saw in one another. And, we built a wonderful relationship that was grounded in trust and caring.
