Second/Foreign Language program preservation and advancement: Literatures and lessons for teachers and teacher education

Steven Talmy and Graham Crookes, 2003



Abstract

In an era of decreasing state support for education in general, and S/FL education in particular, S/FL teachers and teacher educators need to be more oriented to language program preservation and advancement. We review the scattered literatures of program advancement, which unfortunately are separated by level of educational institution (higher versus lower), and within which S/FL reports are conspicuous by their absence. We highlight one existing report of S/FL program advancement, and contrast it with one much less successful and perhaps more typical: the efforts of some K-12 ESL educators in Hawai'i, who suddenly found themselves thrust into the position of defending their program from budgetary cuts. We use the experiences of these educators as a point of departure for a discussion of the content of a program preservation and advancement element in S/FL teacher education. In conclusion we identify three main areas that an orientation to this topic could take, namely fund-raising, organizing, and action.

 

Introduction

In the U.S. this is an era of decreasing state support for education in general (Engel, 2000, inter alia). While some specialized aspects of second/foreign language (S/FL) education receives special encouragement from the federal government,[1] regular S/FL programs in elementary and high schools in the U.S. are strongly supported by only a minority of state governments (cf. Rosenbusch, 2002). Programs in bilingual education have been greatly reduced, and funding for ESL programs is scanty (Crawford, 1999; 2002); many S/FL teachers (particularly ESL teachers) work under inadequate conditions (cf. Crookes & Arakaki, 1999). Perhaps relatedly, the sociopolitical dimensions of S/FL instruction are being addressed in the curricula of S/FL teacher education more than ever before. Attention is being directed at the macro-level, for example, in the literatures on language policy and planning (LPP). The micro-political character of our work is being addressed in an increasingly diverse literature, from LPP studies which examine the fundamental interconnectedness between legislative, political, and institutional processes and classroom policy and practice (Huebner & Davis, 1999; Ricento & Hornberger, 1996; Rosenbusch, 2002) to studies revealing power arrangements in classroom participation structures (e.g., Hall, 1998), to the growing literature on critical pedagogy and radical pedagogies in general in S/FL education.[2] While teachers may be acting in accordance with these changed circumstances and orientations, we wonder if S/FL teacher education curricula have really moved as far as they might to stay current with and adequately support such practices. A recent review of the area (Vélez-Rendon, 2002) provides a useful indication of the development that has occurred in this area, and calls for greater emphasis on "contextual factors", including culture and community, in S/FL teacher education. In line with this, we suggest that S/FL teacher education curricula need to provide content and concepts to assist S/FL teachers in preserving their jobs and programs. In this paper we first provide an orientation to a scattered set of literatures which could be drawn upon as resources for this task. We then excerpt some data from an on-going study which illustrates the problems that can arise when S/FL teachers do not have the kind of orientation we would urge, and conclude by summarizing key points deriving both from the literature and from experience, which S/FL teacher education curricula might do well to emphasize.

The literatures of program advancement

A range of literatures exist which S/FL educators could draw upon for reports and advice concerning how to preserve and develop their programs. These literatures are separated both by level of institution discussed (higher education versus lower education) and by the major thrust or conception of the actions or activities involved. Part of this literature (mainly in the domain of higher education) has developed under the term "institutional advancement" (an ERIC thesaurus descriptor). ERIC defines it as "Interpretation and promotion of an institution to its various constituencies—includes fundraising, internal and external communications, government relations, and public relations"[3], and Rowland (1986, p. xiii) defines it as "all activities and programs undertaken by an institution to develop understanding and support from all its constituencies in order to achieve its goals in securing such resources as students, faculty, and dollars." The term 'institutional advancement' could perhaps apply the full range of the literatures we are about to refer to, though since we would like to apply it to foreign and second language departments and/or programs, that is, to components of institutions, we will replace the word "institution" with "program", to give us the term "program advancement". (Another term for this area is "program advocacy" [E. Spinelli, personal communication], though it is not a recognized ERIC descriptor and appears very rarely in the S/FL professional literature.[4])

 

S/FL program advancement in the post-secondary sector

Post-secondary FL education, as a sector, tends to see its program advancement efforts mainly in terms of getting a good share of the funds and resources that a university or college itself raises or is allocated (cf. Jenks, 1997). Its leaders are accustomed to a measure of internal bargaining or politicking, but do not necessarily expect to have to negotiate with or appeal to stakeholders outside their institution. The reports in this literature refer to the gaining of resources within an individual university or college as being fostered by, for example, "visibility" (Roche, 1999), which is enhanced by S/FL programs or departments "assuming a leadership role on campus" (ibid, p. 10) which means, according to Roche, becoming all-round good at the job (see also Jenks, 1997). Reports also refer to engaging in public relations efforts, and creating alliances notably with powerful programs (which in a U.S. university setting are in areas such as business or engineering—Melton, 1994, Rivers, 1994, Voght, 2000). Some recent discussions of the matter within the FL sector reflect the importation of business concepts into the academy (Byrnes, 1997; Lindenberger, 1998; Sullivan, 1998). For example, the "outreach program" of FL programs in Boise State University include a translation and interpreting service, on-site teaching for companies, and consulting (the latter by way of departmental seminars set up to inform local businesses; Loughrin-Sacco, 1996).

A quite separate set of concerns shows up, sketchily, in occasional FL and ESL post-secondary reports, regarding the employment status of teachers within programs. For example, recent discussions in the post-secondary FL area have referred to the movement of  part-timers to full-timers with contracts and union protection (Sullivan, 1998; Warhol, 1997).  The TESOL literature, by contrast, has only older entries in this area ("Better deal for teachers", 1989; DeLuca, 1982; Shulman, 1982). 

In considering the locations that reports on program advancement appear in, it is noteworthy that they do not generally appear in the more prestigious, research-oriented journals of our field. The US post-secondary FL program advancement literature appears mainly in ADFL Bulletin[5] and in Profession (with more fragmentary reports in MLA Newsletter), as opposed to in Modern Language Journal or Foreign Language Annals. The ESL publications are of the order of TESOL Newsletter, TESOL Matters, and the EFL Gazette, rather than TESOL Quarterly.

 

Program advancement in "lower education"

Most of the extensive published literature keyed to the term "institutional advancement" concerns higher education.[6] Perhaps because the separation into autonomous departments or programs is less complete, we hear comparatively little in the literatures of S/FL learning and teaching concerning how FL specialists advance high schools and elementary schools programs.[7] However, the areas which do feature more prominently here are those of ESL and bilingual education. In the U.S., and elsewhere, ESL programs are often marginal, physically and in terms of curriculum and staffing. And is well-known, bilingual programs in the U.S. have a similarly non-mainstream status, having only begun (in the recent past) through legal action, and have recently been largely eliminated, through political action.

A particularly useful and extensive example of this literature is the TESOL report (McGroarty, 1998) Partnerships with Linguistic Minority Communities. In it, McGroarty reviews how to address the language needs of minority communities when teachers, academics, and community members work together; she also considers some of the obstacles which exist to such partnerships. These partnerships, she writes,

range from traditional parent-teacher organizations to multiparty relationships involving teachers, students, classrooms, schools with community organizations, teacher training institutions, universities, and even businesses. These coalitions usually aim to improve the education of the students and family populations served and may also seek to restructure the curriculum and the organizational hierarchy of the school. Such partnerships are essential to the well-being and social and academic progress of all students. They are especially important in light of the myriad problems faced by many school systems, from the alienation experienced by many learnersÉ to the frustration of educators who find that past ways of teaching are insufficient to engage today's students effectively. (p. 2)

 

Though McGroarty's discussion is broad, she and the task force primarily address "lower" education, and of course are clearly referring to communities who are different in culture or class from the mainstream, middle-class educational institutions their younger members attend. The further up the institutional ladder, from elementary to graduate school, the more tenuous are the links to community; or, to put a positive spin on things, the wider is the community served. Therefore, community  links are likely to be more direct at the elementary and secondary level. Public universities are often seen as serving a specific larger area, such as an entire state.

McGroarty's analysis, the accounts she refers to, and the advice she gives, certainly refer to the "promotion of an institution to its various constituencies" (ERIC's definition again), but particularly emphasize the bringing together of those various constituencies. They (and their members) are to be organized, in coalitions and partnerships. Her literature survey also alludes to matters implied Rowlands' earlier definition, "activities É undertakenÉ to secure resources". These activities, or actions, are particularly concerned with the "government relations, and public relations" that ERIC's definition refers to. Clearly, the literature of (educational) program advancement has a distinct conceptual overlap with the literature of community organizing.  This time-honored term refers simply to bringing individuals together in formal or semiformal arrangements that help address problems, though it is true that it is mainly applied to communities which are in need of help, which are, perhaps, marginalized.[8]

Within the community organizing literature, organizing often appears in connection with "action". Organizing occurs to enable decisions to be made (concerning what needs to be done, what the goal is to be, etc.), and it also occurs as a prelude to action that will achieve those goals. For those who do not have easy access to resources or to the levers of power, visible action, such as the physical manifestation of bodies on the streets or in the corridors of power is (if peaceful) a legitimate form of behavior in pluralist democracies, and has certainly resulted in the effective advancement of persuasive arguments when other avenues of communication or means of influence have proved unsuccessful. It hardly needs to be mentioned that there is a long and honorable history of action of this kind in support of education in many countries, including in the U.S.

As we outlined earlier, the S/FL literature is a little short of accounts of program advancement and advocacy. Given the absence of such stories, we now briefly summarize one such, that brought together various aspects of program advancement, notably organizing and action. We then go on to much less of a success story.

A success story

One of the very few published reports of action within this area is that of Ferguson (1998), who provides a vivid and fast-paced account of her efforts at Yakima Community College to rescue an ESL program (serving Mexican immigrants) from elimination. This program was structured consistent with the general mandate of community colleges (to connect to less-priviledged sectors of society), and the author comments, "the community comes to our college". Ferguson had been implementing a critical pedagogy in her class, and at the same time had been involved in the community college's efforts to lobby their legislators. The college was facing general budget cuts. Ferguson writes,

Students were brought into the concerns for program funding. They learned that the problems were not just mine, but theirs as well. Intermediate ESL students learned to write letters to the editor of the newspaper and to the legislature, and to speak on television. An ESL student was chosen by his classmates to accompany me and other faculty and the college president to visit the state legislature and meet with representatives and senators from the college's service district. (p. 9)

Just the same, two weeks before the end of the legislative session, ESL funding was dropped, and attempts were made to hide this fact from Ferguson and her colleagues and students. Ferguson provides a narrative account of the various lobbying efforts she and her students then engaged in, and the happy ending is that the money was returned. A politician is quoted as admitting that in the lobbying effort, "they hammered the heck out of us" (Ferguson, 1998, p. 11).

In an era of declining support, we can expect more of the kinds of situation Ferguson had to contend with. Accordingly we present the following brief account, offered as something of a warning, or counterweight, to Ferguson's report.

 

Not really a success story: "Perhaps this is a lesson for us"

In Hawai'i, the state public schools' English for Second Language Learners (ESLL) program recently faced its own budget crisis. This program serves approximately 15,000 K-12 language minority students from more than 40 different language backgrounds, and does so on a slim budget of $9 million. The following account describes the modest efforts made by  teachers and students at one Hawai'i high school to prevent budget cuts that would have decimated the ESLL program statewide.[9]

In early April 2002, Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders (pseudonyms), two ESLL teachers at Islands High School,[10] found out that in a matter of weeks, the Hawai'i legislature would be considering a $3.6 million cut in funding to the Department of Education's (DOE) ESLL program. This cut was one of many that had been proposed in an effort to contend with a multi-million shortfall in the education budget. This 40% cut to the ESLL budget would translate into the statewide elimination of 10 full-time ESLL positions, the termination of all 287 part-time (non-union) teachers (PTTs),[11] as well as the elimination of the entire budget for teaching supplies and testing materials.

The state ESLL program response was not, however, all that might have been expected in the face of such a drastic budget reduction. Mr. Park, a high school ESLL teacher for over 15 years and an active member of the Hawai'i teachers union, and Mr. Saunders, an untenured teacher, were two important, if reluctant, figures in this response, and they remember it with some frustration. The newspaper article that appeared in the April 4th Honolulu Star-Bulletin (Asato, 2002) was the first that many associated with the ESLL program in Hawai'i had heard of the cuts.  At a mid-April meeting with ESLL district administrators, several teachers expressed disbelief that they had not received official word about the situation earlier. Yet, according to those administrators, the April 4th article was the first that they had heard of the cuts themselves.

The lightly attended mid-April ESLL administrators' meeting was the first organized response to the cuts. A state representative had been invited to address the 35 or so assembled ESLL teachers, PTTs, students (brought by Mr. Park), and administrators about the proposed budget. The representative made clear that ESLL was just one of many other programs that was set to receive dramatically reduced funds. Though he stated that he had warned fellow legislators that Hawai'i would likely "get hit with a class action lawsuit" if the proposed cuts to ESLL were made,[12] he told the teachers that he believed the cuts would be made unless action was taken. He suggested sending letters, emails, and faxes to lawmakers, giving the names of several key politicians teachers should be sure to contact. 

Though the mid-April ESLL administrators' meeting did serve its informational purposes, little else was accomplished. Teachers had lists of lawmakers' email addresses, but no plan for action was discussed. No strategy was plotted, either, and nothing was discussed about disseminating the information to other ESLL teachers and PTTs. Mr. Park, for one, wanted to do more. He urged his colleagues to organize: "We need a leader to coordinate this," he said, later admitting that he had hoped one of the district ESLL administrators would volunteer. No one did. 

Following the meeting, teachers and ESLL administrators did generate an uncoordinated email campaign directed at state legislators. Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders engaged students in a small-scale letter-writing campaign, as well. A rally at the State Capitol was also proposed, which ultimately would become the most carefully planned part of the ESLL response to the proposed cuts (as we discuss below).

Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders looked on the mid-April ESLL administrators' meeting as an opportunity wasted. They expressed a belief that administrators and teachers "should actually [have sat] down and had a strategy, a plan, 'what are we going to do?'"  Either that, or, as Mr. Park suggested, the administrators should have "had a strategy and then [told] us [what it was]."  "That should have happened at that meeting," concluded Mr. Saunders.  "Right there.Ó"

It didn't. The two teachers attributed this to poor direction from the district ESLL administrators. "We need leadership," Mr. Park contended. "Okay?  We do.  We need time to meet and organize and plan and I don't know what District. I don't know what they're waiting for. . . . [They] have got to do something!  They should be writing bilingual letters and sending them out to the parents.  They should decide what they want and get everybody out there [protesting].  You know?  I'm not going to do it!"  He shook his head.  "Nobody wants to come out front. . . no one wants to take the risk."

  These statements highlight one source of much of Mr. Park's and Mr. Saunders' frustration: miscommunication about who should be responsible for coordinating the ESLL response. "I know [the district ESLL administrators] were pointing fingers at me to do something," said Mr. Park. Yet, he went on, "regular classroom teachers expected the district people to do it." He and Mr. Saunders gave a number of reasons for this expectation, including teachers' workloads and schedules. Indeed, and with no small amount of irony, at the time these budget cuts were being considered, the DOE was piloting its new Hawai'i Content and Performance Standards (HCPS) test, which all high school students will soon have to pass to receive a diploma. Thus, in addition to regular duties as a teacher and an advisor for two after-school clubs, Mr. Park was at this time coordinating the "special accommodations" in HCPS testing for dozens of ESLL students, as well as the regular batteries of placement and achievement testing for the remainder of Islands' ESLL program. Mr. Saunders was similarly busy assisting Mr. Park, in addition to his own usual teaching and advisory responsibilities. Neither relished the prospect of developing a plan for action and coordinating it within such a tight time-frame. As Mr. Saunders said,

I would prefer if we didn't have to [coordinate and lead a protest].  I mean, it's sad that it's come to this, that we have to get active and start lobbying for something that's necessary for the kids, that's federally mandated.  And we have to basically go and do these kinds of things in addition to what we're doing?  I don't think that's right.

Compounding concerns about workload, however, were fears about job security and professional reprisal. As an untenured teacher, Mr. Saunders worried about his place in the Hawai'i DOE hierarchy, fearing he might jeopardize his position by coordinating such a campaign.[13] "It's not my place, I don't think, to do that," he said. "I don't think I have the authority or the clout."

The most organized part of the ESLL response to the proposed budget cutbacks was a rally that was held at the state Capitol, timed to roughly coincide with the vote legislators would be making on the budget. Word of the rally was spread through a brief email exchange initiated by a district ESLL administrator with five or six schools. Mr. Park recruited as many students as possible to make signs and come to the rally.

The afternoon of the rally, approximately 75 protesters showed up at the Capitol, including over 50 students from Islands High School. Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders were astonished to see that nearly all of the people at the rally were only from their school. As Mr. Park said later, shaking his head, the district ESLL administrators Òhave to disseminate information to all schools, which they haven't done about these rallies and these meetings. . . .  [They should have sent] out emails to all the ESL teachers, not just a couple, you know what I mean?" That more schools were not contacted meant not only a lower turnout and less school representation, but was a let down for students, too. "The students were kind of disappointed because they expected other schools over there," said Mr. Park. What was worse, only a few district ESLL administrators attended the rally, and they were standing off to the side, away from the crowd. They were, as Mr. Saunders remembered, "holding some signs, hiding, sort of, in the shade. And still, they never really came out to the street!"

An additional problem developed when two of the four local TV stations arrived to cover the rally and reporters went in search of someone to interview. Mr. Saunders shook his head at the memory.

The cameras were desperately looking for people to talk to, and then I was, 'well, I don't know if I'm the right person,' and then I tracked down one of the [district administrators], and he was like, 'no, no, no, no, no' and he started looking for someone else.  And the reporter is like, 'huh?  he doesn't want to talk to me?!'  So finally, I said, 'okay, well, I'll do it' . . . .  It was funny to see that [the administrator] didn't want to have any part of that . . . [he's been] good on camera [in the past].

Mr. Saunders was notably careful in his TV interviews.  As he admitted later, "I was . . . worried about being on TV: [I thought to myself] 'I better  be careful what I say!'"

The rally kicked into gear as students and teachers paraded around the rotunda of the State Capitol chanting and shouting and waving signs. Later, they went up to individual senators' and representatives' offices to meet with legislators and talk with them. Said Mr. Saunders:

 

I thought it was really neat to see in [the students'] eyes the energy and the excitement. I think they really learned a lot. Just by going down there and seeing what a group can do . . . .  They saw that they can make a difference. The fact that they might have been on the news and they got people's attention and that they'd never been to the Capitol before. People were honking. Having 50 kids marching down the street with signs. At first — you could see the progression — at first they didn't want to show their signs, they had them folded over their head to keep off the sun, to hide their faces. And then as we got further down the road and we lined up along the road and then people honked and yelled — they sort of — yeah, that unified them, they were more confident . . . .

 

Yet even the most successful component of the ESLL response to the budget cutbacks was marked by confusion: Mr. Saunders reported that at the end of the rally, a number of people working in the Capitol approached him with questions: they did not know what "ESLL" meant, what the program was for, or the reason for the protest.  Neither the group nor the purpose of the rally had been communicated clearly.

Attendance at the mid-April ESLL administrators' meeting and at the rally, and participation in the email and student letter writing campaigns was comparatively small and certainly not representative of the more than 250 public schools in Hawai'i. Far more schools could have been contacted and involved in the protest. In addition, many more of the 287 PTTs whose jobs were on the line could have been reached regarding news of the budget cut, and the protest against it. Furthermore, there was little apparent involvement of other non-ESLL teachers or school administrators. Mr. Saunders wondered if perhaps they did not understand that cuts to programs such as ESLL would ultimately affect them all. Mr. Park did try to get several other teachers from Islands High School involved, unsuccessfully. Perhaps had there been more time and a plan in place, they might have more readily agreed or been able to participate.

Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders effectively involved their students in the response to the proposed cutbacks, having many take part in the letter-writing campaign, attend the mid-April administrator's meeting, and participate in the rally. Yet neither was particularly successful recruiting students' parents. Though students had been asked to bring family members along to the rally, only a few actually came. Similarly, leaders in the Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino, and other immigrant communities, were also notably absent in the ESLL response. Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders regretted this, aware of the power that parents and community leaders could have lent to their efforts.  They simply hadn't developed their connections to either group. Therefore, identifying and locating willing participants would have been a lengthy process; given the time constraints the teachers were working under, it became unfeasible.  

Despite problems such as the ones we noted above, just a week after the rally, the $3.6 million in ESLL funding that had been in danger of being cut was restored by the legislature. While the Hawai'i ESLL administrators, teachers, and students no doubt played a part in this, it is unclear how much of a part. And though they should be applauded for their commitment and their determination — they helped to defend a program which would have been eviscerated otherwise the overall response to the proposed budget cut can be fairly characterized as haphazard, undersized, and in a number of ways, ineffectual. Next time the budgetary axe threatens, a response like this may not engender such a successful outcome. As one ESLL teacher at the first mid-April ESLL administrators' meeting noted ruefully, "we're not as politically active as we should be; perhaps this is a lesson for us."

 

Implications for S/FL teacher education content

We believe it is important that S/FL professionals are well prepared to deal with the political exigencies that teachers and administrators are more and more likely to encounter in their careers in S/FL teaching. One obvious starting point for this preparation is in teacher education courses, which, as noted earlier, are increasingly engaging the sociopolitical dimensions of S/FL instruction, and which could thus easily incorporate some if not all of the ideas we propose below. 

The area of program advancement can be organized in terms of a number of concepts. (ERIC's definition refers to "fund raising, internal and external communications, government relations, and public relations". Besides terms included within its brief definition it recognizes "lobbying" as a "related term".) Here, we select three terms: fundraising, organizing and action. For those on the margins, lobbying, government relations and public relations are hard to achieve if one has no access to the lobby, to the corridors of government, or a voice in public; but they are all more visibly and immediately achieved through action, or indeed "actions". Thus for the S/FL community, we would roll up ERIC's communicational and relational aspects of program advancement under the broader heading of action. We reserve most of our comments for the topic we discuss first, organizing, since this area is arguably the one which in large part determines a) whether fundraising takes place, and if so, how, and b) what sorts of action can or need to be taken. We note, before embarking on this discussion, that our brief sketch of  some S/FL teachers' experience in Hawai'i should in no way be construed as a kind of censure or finger-pointing. In fact, we believe that the Hawai'i teachers' relative state of (un)preparedness is more the norm than the exception in S/FL circles.

 

Organizing

            A general piece of advice that has been offered repeatedly is to network (cf. Ashworth, 1985), find allies and make partnerships (McGroarty, 1998). This is all the more crucial since the old implied alliance between institutions of public education and the public has been derailed, and language programs of all kinds are among the first to be jettisoned as the ship of public education founders in the waters of reaction. The three most obvious constituencies with whom teachers can network are colleagues, parents, and community leaders. The ESLL teachers in Hawai'i had not substantially cultivated their connections to any of these groups, which, as should be clear from the account above, undermined their attempts at timely, effectual action.   

Develop institutional networks

Perhaps the most immediate connection the teachers at Islands High School could have developed was the one with their own colleagues. As Mr. Saunders noted, cuts to the ESL program would have involved a great many at the high school, with teachers, administrators, and students all affected by more crowded classrooms, the lack of language assistance or tutoring for students who needed it, the absence of bilingual staff who could be in contact with students' families, all of which, among much else, would have increased the likelihood for student failure, sparked rises in student absenteeism and dropping out, and so forth.[14]  Generating such awareness among one's teaching colleagues and school administrators is a relatively simple measure to take, yet one that is likely to be quite effective. This is valid for teachers in university programs as well, who can develop "cooperative linkages" to other university programs and departments and to administrations that have eyes toward maintaining or increasing international student populations (see, e.g., Jenks, 1997). It also applies to stand-alone language programs outside of larger institutions: the more colleagues who can be brought aboard, the more help that will be available when needed. Of course, this does not apply only to times of crisis: help from colleagues can take many forms, be it bodies in the street carrying signs, increased collaboration within the school or classroom, assistance with a particular student or group of students, or, for some colleagues who would otherwise have little contact with this population, a developing sensitivity to the educational circumstances and pedagogical needs of language minorities. Finally, if these liaisons among colleagues are reciprocal, as we believe they need to be, there is potential benefit for everyone involved, especially students. 

Networks with colleagues can be cultivated not just intra-institutionally, but across schools and with professional associations, too (e.g., state or local branches of TESOL; cf. McGroarty, 1998). In complete contrast to the Hawai'i situation sketched above, Castro Feinberg (1999) writes of the political might a united front of educators can wield in the effort to protect language programs (also see Shirley, 1997). In the late 1970s and early 1980s, in the face of ongoing efforts to dismantle bilingual education in Florida, proactive bilingual teachers formed the American Hispanic Educators Association of Dade (AHEAD). In 1982, AHEAD succeeded in forestalling the total elimination of an important bilingual education program in Miami by filling school board meetings with supporters, deluging the board office with letters and phone calls, and gaining the support of the local Spanish language media outlets. AHEAD developed skill in grass-roots organizing, direct action, and

became very effective in supporting those candidates for public office, especially school board candidates, whose views were supportive of the organization's mission . . . . This augmented voice and privileged access did not go unnoticed by system administrators with career ambitions, and helped facilitate discussion about and responsiveness to program needs, and long overdue recognition and promotions for bilingual education personnel (Castro Feinberg, 1999, p. 57). 

 

Develop connections with parents 

Developing reciprocal affiliations with parents and community leaders will perhaps take more time than cultivating connections among colleagues, but the effort can be extremely rewarding.[15] Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders had few connections to parents that they could draw on when needed, so when they attempted to summon parents' support, they had to resort to asking students to relay their request. Yet, Danni Tsai (2002), the Director of Instructional Services at the Cupertino Union School District in California, points out that "parents are natural advocates for their children," who as immigrants contending with a new educational system may simply "not know when and how to get involved."  She maintains that families will "respond earnestly when educators extend genuine opportunities for meaningful involvement and participation in school affairs" (p. 5). She goes on to detail some of the remarkable outcomes resulting from an affiliation with first-generation Asian and Middle Eastern parents in the Cupertino school community. Parents there have joined the local PTA, served on committees, and the like, but they have also served on the school board, developed culturally relevant teaching materials, and established a non-profit organization called the Asian American Parent Association (AAPA). The AAPA promotes cross-cultural awareness, works as a resource for teachers, and offers scholarships to Asian American college students who make a commitment to become teachers. The AAPA has flexed some political muscle as well, encouraging the school district to embark on a multicultural curriculum renewal project.  It also initiated the formation of a "multi-constituent partnership" with the school superintendent, a neighboring school district, a local community college, and the Cupertino City Council; this has led to "diversity training" for superintendents, city council members, school board members, community college administrators, among others, as well as a school-staff training project that aims to inform teachers about culturally relevant instructional methods. The partnership has also, notably, resulted in the creation of a two-way Mandarin-English bilingual program. Tsai notes that the challenges of involving parents can be far outweighed by the many mutual benefits these partnerships can engender, benefits which start with the children and continue into the community (also see McGroarty, 1998; Shirley, 1997). 

Develop networks in the community

Developing connections in the community to business leaders and politicians can have powerful consequences for a language program, as well. Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders both lamented the absence of community leaders in the ESLL response to the proposed budget cuts; Hawai'i has many politicians, academics, professionals, and leading businesspeople with ties to immigrant communities, or who are immigrants themselves, who could have lent political and/or financial clout to their protest. 

Castro Feinberg (1999) describes (with some irony) the turnaround in Florida Ð where bilingual education had been threatened for years Ð once business and political leaders understood what multilingualism might mean for international business in the area. In 1985, recommendations supported by the Southern Governors Association, the Miami-Dade County Schools superintendent, the Florida governor, and leaders in local business and diplomatic communities, led to the creation of an international studies program which included rigorous Spanish, French, and German foreign language curriculums. Throughout the 1990s, as bilingual programs were shuttered around the country due to anti-immigrant rhetoric and attacks on bilingual education, foreign language and bilingual programs have expanded in Miami. This expansion includes a proliferation of international studies programs as well as an increase in two-way bilingual schools, "bilingual expansion programs," and "expanded foreign language programs" within schools. Castro Feinberg (1999) notes that these developments arose due to a confluence of a number of factors, including

the increased Hispanic representation on the [school] board, the influence of prestigious community and chamber organizations, academic support . . .  and the active involvement of politically savvy members of the bilingual education community . . . .   Each of the elements in [this] combination had been present to some extent in times past . . . but not until they were present concurrently was a critical mass of influence created sufficient to generate program enhancements and expansion (p. 60).

 

The successful cultivation of networks with colleagues, parents, and community leaders depends on an early, proactive start on the part of teachers, ideally before some form of response is required (i.e., before panic and desperation set in), so that any difficulties in communication, any turf encroachment, any problems with stepping-on-toes can be worked out in an atmosphere free of the pressure brought on by a crisis. This was a key advantage that Ferguson had: a community partnership partly fostered by a curriculum that implemented work with the relevant community.  Also important is the need for reciprocation. As Castro Feinberg (1999) suggests: "support the issues and causes of other groups, and establish coalitions as needed" (p. 63). Implicit in the notion of a "partnership" is precisely this idea of mutual support.

Leadership

An important lesson for us was drawn from Ferguson (1998), who says of her experience:

The responsibility for political advocacy really comes down to the program level. There is no one at the state or federal levels whose primary responsibility is advocacy for adult ESL programs. Once I realized that fact, I stopped waiting for someone else to come forward to take the leadÉ It would be even better to move beyond reacting to crisis towards leadership for proactive change in support of É programsÉ.

 

Many of the problems encountered in the Hawai'i ESLL response to the proposed budget cuts can be traced to an absence of leadership, which affected organization and communication; no clear lines for either were drawn. Though we understand and in some ways agree with Mr. Park and Mr. Saunders' assessment that administrators rather than teachers ought to take the responsibility for protecting the programs in which they work, the fact remains that all should (cf. Tsai, 2002).  As Ferguson reminds us, it is folly to wait for someone else. 

 

Fundraising

The raising of money for projects of all kinds has developed into a specialized area of expertise—an art, if not a science—in many countries. This literature in turn is useful to us in initiating a rethink of the responsibilities of S/FL teachers. For example, Schneiter & Nelson (1982), writing of fund-raising in general, illustrate the kind of information or guidance we think would be advantageous to have more widely accepted in FL and ESL programs. Their brief introduction to the area lists "the 13 most common fund-raising mistakes", of which #2 is: "thinking that fund raising is for fund raisers only" (Schneiter & Nelson, 1982). This may not mean that everyone in an organization goes out and asks for money, but it does mean (when applied to our area) that everyone in a S/FL educational program is oriented to the need to raise funds. This would imply in particular that all staff involved present and run the program and have an orientation to their role in the program that makes it easier for the program to be funded or obtain funds.

Dropping down one level, towards education (as opposed to general fund-raising), we may note that fundraising in higher education has an extensive literature—Rhodes (1997) is a good recent overview. There is plenty of empirical research as well as advice concerning how communities and educational institutions may relate (e.g. Shirley, 1997; Delgado-Gaitan, 2001; and for fundraising and community organizing in general, see e.g., Mondros & Wilson, 1994). It could be very useful for more of us concerned with S/FL programs to know more about fund-raising. It's hard to raise money without contacts, visibility, and an organization. Direct action may get the goods in a crisis, and garner visibility, but wouldn't it be good to have the support and funds that are needed to prevent things getting to a crisis? Neither our own Hawai'i case, nor Ferguson (1998) allude to the need and use of funds in support of organizing and action. It is, nevertheless, one of the main components of ERIC's definition of institutional advancement.

 

Action

As we noted above, the efforts that go into organizing will largely determine the forms of action that should or can be taken. If a program preservation response has been organized in advance, with appropriate networks cultivated, contacts made with various constituencies, etc., then action that best suits the local circumstances will already have been planned and readied for implementation. If, however, a response has not yet been planned, we offer the following simple suggestions as a guide, drawn from some of the studies we've noted throughout, as well as the Hawai'i case. 

In a crisis situation:

(1)  Organize, no matter how cursorily.  Even in a compressed time frame it is still important to organize a plan that outlines what needs to be done, who can be involved, who should be involved, where to write or call, and so on. While this plan will likely be limited in scope (compared to what could be accomplished if more time were available), it is helpful to outline the forms a response will take, set priorities, clarify where energies need to be expended (and where they should not), determine what resources are available for use (and which are not) and more.

(2) Determine roles.  At the minimum we think this should include some kind of coordinator, who will direct efforts in the event that action becomes necessary, as well as liase with district administration, other schools, and other teachers, as well as a media representative, who will handle information dissemination and serve as a spokesperson.

(3) Involve students.  Too often, we forget that our language programs are our students' as well. Get students involved making signs, writing letters, making up slogans and chants, preparing and distributing informational leaflets. Ask for their input on #1 (organizing) and #2 (roles). The circumstances surrounding the program threat may be reason for much stress, but it is important to remember there is tremendous pedagogical potential here, as the Islands High School ESLL teachers found, and as Ferguson (1998) detailed so compellingly: connecting instruction to the program preservation effort can mean lessons about government, politics, economics, language arts, history, as well as a rousing introduction to the power people can have in the democratic process. Also, not only does involving students put a face on the issue, so to speak — legislators in Hawai'i, for example, wound up meeting and talking with the very students (many of whom will one day be voters) who would be affected by the program — but it can reduce the teachers' stress levels, not to mention their workload. Wherever possible, involve alumni.  Alumni are (often voting) members of the community who can directly speak to the successes of the program.

(4) As much as possible, involve parents and community leaders.  Time constraints may mean that efforts made in connecting to the latter group would be better spent elsewhere, a judgment only those locally involved can make. At the least, however, letters and phone calls to parents informing them of the threat and the need for action — and parental participation — are essential. Get the experts involved here: the students (see #4). If they understand the circumstances of the threat and the importance of involving their parents, they may be far more persuasive than a letter from school. This can lead to the emergence of a parental network which can be later cultivated, as well.

(5) Stay connected.  Keep ears and eyes open to the political scene, so that action can be taken as soon as information that the program may be adversely affected becomes known.

(6) Involve the media.  The media can be a powerful ally in the program preservation process, as Castro Feinberg (1999) has noted.

 

Shifts in perspective needed

If terms such as organizing, fundraising, and action are to be seen as a natural part of the technical language of S/FL programs and even as teacher and student responsibilities, there will have to be some distinct shifts in perspective. This is indicated both by the absence of literature in this area in our field and the actual words of some of the Hawai'i participants (not to mention Ferguson) quoted above. As we have noted, one way to bring such areas and shifts together is in terms of  curriculum, both at the level of the teacher and program, and at the level of teacher education.

At the teacher and program level: Ferguson's program used a critical pedagogy; and this was important for the success of her action.  If FL, ESL, and bilingual education programs don't involve students in the program preservation process, they are denying themselves an extremely powerful (not to mention symbolic) resource. Critical pedagogy implies students acting on the world in an effort to improve it (see, e.g., Crookes & Lehner, 1998; Freire 1970/1993; Giroux, 1997; hooks, 1994; Pennycook, 1990). Other lines in curriculum theory, particularly those associated with service learning and experiential learning would also have these sorts of connections (e.g., Eyring, 1991; Power & Khmelkov, 1999; Zlotkowski, 1998). It is important to note that this is an on-going process, one which not only should or could be integrated into teacher education curricula, but also into class curricula, for example, planning activities in which S/FL students write to legislators and community leaders to establish connections and represent the program that's being funded. In the increasingly-difficult financial and political climate, we cannot afford to be complacent; successfully overcoming one crisis is unlikely to obviate the need for a steady and on-going or processual orientation to program advancement and preservation.

At the teacher education curriculum level: We have already implied that a list of categories that relate to S/FL program advancement could be compiled drawing on both general organizing literature and the handful of S/FL-related accounts, many, though not all of which, are largely "common sense". However, for S/FL teachers and administrators to take action in these areas with the kind of rapidity and effectiveness that Ferguson managed might be difficult, because they are not part of the way we have been trained to act, and not part of our regular job descriptions (this is one more reason for starting the organizing process early!). Ferguson (1998) remarks:

The politics outside our classrooms set to a large extent the structure of our classrooms, who will instruct, how they will instruct, who will be served, how long they will be served, and to what degree. We often assume we are independent  in our classrooms [but we don't] define our classroom worlds.

She continues, and this is a key point:

Few, if any, ESL teachers receive training in how to become politically aware and politically effective. We learn when we have to, usually when facing a crisis, on the job and with hit-and-miss success. However, we can educate ourselves. We can ask that the political realities of adult ESL be addressed at training seminars and conferences we attend. We can give presentations on political advocacy at these conferences. We can insist that this is part of what we need to know to be effective language teachers, and demand that it be part of our formal schooling. (p. 13)

 

She concludes that "the best pedagogy in the world is useless without students and without a classroom" (p. 14). One might extend this to add that the best research in the world is similarly useless under those circumstances, or the equivalent in terms of teacher pay, training, and working conditions.

 

Conclusion

There is a need to extend FL and ESL instructor's skills and sense of their responsibilities so that they can persuade their relevant communities that what the instructional program has is something the community needs (and will support, with votes or money). Alternatively, FL and ESL language instructors need to be ready to respond to community demands and use them to support their program or department (heritage languages being the easy or paradigm example here). The skills  needed to keep programs alive are not complex, but the need as a whole is too important (and too time consuming) to be left to program administrators alone.

In short, there are things that need to go into our teacher education curricula that have immediate preservation value. They aren't there at present — will they be there in the future? And if they're not, will we be here in the future?


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Notes

[1] For example, the National Security Education Program supports FL instruction in the less-commonly taught languages, particularly those of current foreign policy importance, such as Pushtu and Korean.

 

[2] The recent publication of Reagan & Osborn (2002) is an indication of the FL field catching up with the more radicalized (because more oppressed) ESL sector. And in the latter area, the trend now influences senior mainstream figures (e.g., Richards, 2001, p. 215: "A critical pedagogy informs TESOL professional practice").

[3] Originally entered in ERIC Thesaurus 10/27/1982.

[4] Interesting patterns show up when the the electronic Linguistics and Language Behavior Abstracts (LLBA) and Educational Resources Information Clearinghouse (ERIC) databases are searched in this area. LLBA (from 1973), produces zero uses of the term "program advocacy", and 20 cases for the single word "advocacy". However, ERIC (from 1966) produces 17 cases of the term "program advocacy", a handful of which are from the ESL or FL literature (Hammond & Sims, 1980; Met & Rhodes, 1990, and two in bilingual studiesÉ. Fill in.   This includes three instances, in the older TESOL literature, associated with the activist past President of TESOL Mary Ashworth (Ashworth 1991a, b; Murray, 1992); this set of references concern the advocacy conducted by a professional organization on behalf of its members. Applied linguists also use the term"advocacy" to refer to activist research (e.g., Cameron. et al., 1997), but this is not necessarily related to the promotion and development of S/FL programs. (Finally, we note that the descriptor "development", as in "school development", is occasionally a keyword applied to program advancement studies.)

[5] For most recent examples, see Spencer (2002), Wolf (2003).

[6] A recent search (10/23/03) of the full online ERIC database produced 1055 hits on "institutional advancement", most of which concerned higher education. Only 146 of the references involved the keyword "schools". Within this subdomain, private schools (alternative: Greenberg &  Sadofsky, 1998; Catholic: e.g., Haney & O'Keefe, 1999) were prominent.

[7] For a handful of extremely brief reports, again appearing in a marginal publication, see Gramer, 1999; Hewitt, 1996, 1997; and Hodges & Redmond, 2000.

[8] When Harvard engages in these practices, it is "institutional advancement"; when Podunk Immigrant Center does, it is "organizing", and when Earth First! does it, it is "action".

[9] The data reported here are drawn from participant observation, fieldnotes, interviews, and relevant documents of a larger, 2.5 year-long critical ethnographic study conducted by one of the authors. The facts of the budget cut can be confirmed through media reports and Hawai'i Department of Education documents that are readily available. The interview transcripts and the conclusions drawn from the participant observation and fieldnotes data have been "member-checked" (Lincoln & Guba, 1985) by the research participants. However, since the present paper is not primarily a report of that study, but rather a proposal concerning one component of S/FL teacher education (and also with space limitations in mind), we do not here present more methodological detail concerning the collection and analysis of data or the derivation of findings from them, nor present literature concerning the research tradition of critical ethnography. Indeed, we have sought a simple narrative, or possibly "journalistic" voice, in relating the Hawai'i material, which is intended to support and exemplify the problems we allude to in forming our suggestions about some possible content of S/FL teacher education.

[10] The school and all ESLL personnel in this section are referred to by pseudonyms. 

[11] PTTs are usually bilingual or multilingual aides who assist full-time teachers in the classroom, often by providing small group instruction in both L2 English and classroom 'content.' They also serve as links between the school and students' parents and communities. They are widely considered as crucial to the success of the ESLL program in Hawai'i. They are also not part of the teachers' union, and therefore could be easily, indeed completely eliminated.

[12] Plausible, as in the early 1990s, a class action lawsuit was brought against Hawai'i concerning compliance with federal laws assuring education and mental health services for special needs children; compliance with special education laws in Hawai'i is now overseen by a federal judge. Hawai'i has similarly had a great deal of difficulty in the past complying with federal laws that pertain to the education of language minority students; indeed, it is only as a result of legal action under Civil Rights legislation that ESL instruction began in the state.

[13] A reasonable fear. Outspoken teachers, even including tenured union organizers in this system, have been subject to administrative harassment, notably forced relocation (Honolulu Advertiser, 1994a, b).

[14] "Scare tactics" such as these may work in a pinch or be needed with the particularly recalcitrant, but it is also vital for us to remind our colleagues of just how fortunate our schools are to have language minority students in our midsts, thus challenging the view of many who may see cultural and linguistic diversity in deficit terms, rather than as the resource that it truly is.

[15] Of course, parents have long been important to bilingual education in contemporary North America, evident in the central roles they have played in promoting bilingual program implementation (e.g., French immersion in Canada, dual language programs in the US, and so on).