School kids struggle with a foreign tongue

Teaching non-English speakers requires investment in resources, community outreach and smaller classes, which means more teachers.

By SARAH SCHWEITZER

© St. Petersburg Times, published April 30, 2000

TAMPA -- The little boy gripped his throat, as if he could squeeze the word into a mouth unaccustomed to its sputter of consonants.

He had managed the first syllable -- "bub" -- and now the battle for the second was under way in the cheerful Ruskin Elementary School classroom where every bit of matter is plastered with a perfectly printed sign identifying its English name.

Desk. Door. Crayons. Curtain.

They are words foreign to Manuel Ramos, but they will be battles for another day. The challenge of learning English cannot be surmounted before recess. For now, he will purse his lips together and force the strange ending into sound: "ble."

For a growing number of children in Hillsborough public schools, the struggle to leave Spanish behind and adopt a foreign tongue is a familiar one. With more Hispanics flowing into the area, an increasing number of schools are filled with Spanish speakers, unable to learn their ABCs, not to mention the meaning of FCAT, until they learn English.

In 1988, 3,500 children were deemed to have limited proficiency in English. The number jumped to 9,000 in 1993 and 14,500 in 1996. This year, 16,000 students in the school system have little English-language ability.

More than 90 percent of these children are Hispanic.

Many are from Cuba and Puerto Rico, but surges of Colombians and Venezuelans fleeing economic and political unrest now add to the mix. Mexicans arrive daily, many with the aim of working in the fields.

Hispanics are now the majority in 13 Hillsborough schools, and the plurality in another six. Just four years ago, five schools had a majority Hispanic population.

It is a segment expected to continue growing. Between July 1990 and July 1998, the white population in Hillsborough County increased 7 percent, the black population increased 24.2 percent and the Hispanic population increased 49.6 percent. "The Hispanic population has been and is expected to grow at a rate faster than the population as a whole," said Stan Smith, the director of the Bureau of Economic and Business Research at the University of Florida.

For a school district, it is a daunting prospect. Teaching non-English speakers requires investment in resources, including bilingual aides, more community outreach and smaller classes, which means more teachers.

"Many of these children do need a higher level of intensive instruction," said Carmen Sorondo, the supervisor of programs designed to teach English to non-English speaking students.

Although some children can be placed in mainstream classes where a bilingual aide can help fill in gaps with an occasional explanation in Spanish, many must be placed in separate classrooms where English is the official spoken language but Spanish is at times used as a crutch.

In the 1970s, the scenario would have been different. Spanish-speaking students were placed in bilingual classes where both Spanish and English were taught. But bilingual classes went the way of bell-bottoms and lava lamps when the School Board outlawed the bilingual approach in the late 1970s.

Which is not to say Spanish has disappeared from Hillsborough County classrooms.

On the contrary.

In Maria Elena Taylor's kindergarten class at Ruskin Elementary, a hybrid of Spanish and English is needed for her charges -- many of whom travel with the crops.

On a recent day, Ms. Taylor delivered instructions in a rat-a-tat-tat of Spanish, interspersed with a few carefully enunciated English words, making for a kind of Spanglish for kindergarteners.

Ruskin is something of a special case. With its large migrant population, the challenges of teaching English double. Many have parents who are uneducated and can't read or write in Spanish, much less English. Some students have never been to school themselves. And many leave for months at a time to visit relatives in Mexico or work in another state. (The school's mobility rate is 75 percent.)

"These are kids who are straddling two worlds in many cases," Ms. Taylor said.

So last week, there was Heriberto Torres at his desk, weeping.

Why so sad, the teacher asked. Because, he told her, I am frustrated.

Heriberto was back in school for the first day since a monthlong hiatus to visit his ill grandmother in Mexico. He had missed a lot of schoolwork, and now English words are a struggle. As his classmates zipped through words beginning with the letter Q, he didn't know the word for the sound a duck makes: quack.

In recent years, Ruskin's Hispanic population has steadily increased. The Hispanic makeup of the school, just 48 percent in 1995, is now 64 percent.

As a result, subtle but important changes infuse every part of everyday life at Ruskin.

Signs around the school are written in Spanish and English: The office is also labeled oficina; exit signs have the word salida next to them.

Cafeteria food has at times been altered to cater to tastes not accustomed to hot dogs and hamburgers, with tacos and more tomato-based foods introduced when teachers noticed a large amount of food being thrown away.

Christmas celebrations are events to take a swing at a pinata.

Notes to parents are sent home in Spanish and English, along with a telephone number to call for those who can't read. Parent-teacher nights are made possible by a slew of bilingual aides.

For Ms. Taylor, the teacher, the experience of teaching young Spanish speakers hits close to home. She emigrated from Cuba at age 3. In her home, she spoke only Spanish, never English. When she arrived at school, she suffered embarrassment and shame.

"I cried every day," she said.

Her memories are vivid and she keeps them close as she helps her kindergarteners with their language deficit.

"My challenge is to make sure they feel good and enjoy the learning," said Ms. Taylor, who has taught at Ruskin for 25 years.

Particularly the ones struggling. Like Manuel Ramos, whose face she cups in her hands before letting him return to his desk to prepare for playtime.

As he puts away his notebook, he sings a little song to himself. "Nah, nah, mother. Nah, nah mother," he hums happily.

A new word. An English word just learned. Someday a sentence.

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