Challenges of Supporting Multilingual Students and Families
According to the Department of Health and Human Services Bureau of Refugee Services, in 2023, Iowa welcomed 1,515 refugees from around the world. The most populated refugee group hailed from the Democratic Republic of Congo, with 857 refugees, followed by Syria 154, Burma 107, and Afghanistan 60.
As an elementary teacher of multilingual students, I have made many adjustments to my teaching to support refugee students during my career. In the past few years, I have received an increasing number of students who speak Swahili. Many of them have family roots in the Democratic Republic of Congo and have lived most of their lives in refugee camps in Tanzania.
With very few interpreters who speak Swahili and other low-incident languages to support hundreds of families, it can be a challenge to help families with education, community resources, and an endless stream of information sent out by schools. Every day, these families must adapt to differences in food, weather, health care, and modes of transportation.
This was my first week back with students. It was a tiring but rewarding week. I was reminded of a surprising occurrence that happened in the past.
It was one of the first days of school, and I was in my classroom when I got a phone call from the main office. I was told there was a little boy in the office who seemed too young for kindergarten and couldn’t tell anyone his name. He got on the bus at an apartment complex and rode to school with some older students. We didn’t know which language he spoke, but I thought maybe it was Swahili. I used Google Translate to ask him his name. Our school didn’t have any students on our roster with that name, so someone in the office looked up first names in the district similar to what he told us, trying to find a match. We found a four-year-old enrolled in preschool in the system who lived in the same apartment complex as the other students. Instead of bringing him to preschool, we knew we needed to take him home and explain to the family he had gotten on the wrong bus and went to the wrong school.
I was asked to accompany a colleague and the young boy to the apartments a few miles away. We borrowed a staff member’s car equipped with a car seat. I can’t imagine what this little boy was thinking: being put in a car by two strange women and then being driven away from the school.
So many questions ran through my head, was this the first time he had been away from his family or people he knew? How was he so brave? He seemed so trusting; no crying at all.
When we pulled up the apartment complex, we found the building listed on the address. We got out and walked up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway. We knocked on a door, but there was no answer. We saw a neighbor come out of her apartment, and we asked her if she had seen the little boy before. She said no. After knocking several times, I told the boy, “No one is home; what should we do?” I put up both hands to motion, “I don’t know” to him. He pointed down the stairs. My colleague and I took a chance and followed this tiny boy down the stairs and out of the building. He pointed to another nearby apartment building. We walked across the grass and up a hill. He led us into the building, and we traipsed up three long flights of stairs. He took us to a door at the end of the unairconditioned hallway and opened it.
Suddenly, six people were standing before us: an older man and woman, two curious teenage boys, and two wide-eyed toddlers in diapers. One of the adults immediately began talking to the little boy, and he walked into the apartment. “I guess we have the right apartment,” I thought.
Right away, I took out my phone to use Google Translate to ask some questions in Swahili. I asked them if this was the boy we thought he was. I explained to them that he was only four years old and could not attend kindergarten this year, but he was registered for preschool at another building. I explained that he could not get on the bus with the older students and needed to ride a different bus to preschool. They seemed to understand what Google Translate was telling them.
I noticed the two teen boys seemed to want to tell me something. They spoke in Swahili, but I heard them say the names of the nearby middle and high schools. I asked how old they were. They showed me using their hands; one was fourteen, and the other was thirteen. I caught on to their way of counting on their hands. A closed fist facing downward (parallel to the ground) meant “five.” Two of them together meant “ten.” One showed me “ten” and then four fingers. I asked for their names and had them repeat them several times to try and listen carefully to each sound so I could translate them into letters inside my head. As I stood in the hallway, sweat pouring down my face from the heat and lack of air, I talked with them and gathered they were supposed to be in school but didn’t know where to get on the bus or when. I told them via Google Translate I would have someone call them about school and a bus. One of the adults wrote down a phone number on a piece of paper. The older boys were thankful for our help. We said goodbye to the little boy and the others and left.
When I returned to school, I began looking up names and addresses on the computer system. I searched the names of students’ siblings to find first names that matched what the older boys had told me. After seeing similar names, I emailed some middle and high school teachers, letting them know about the boys and asking for their support in getting these students to their schools.
The little boy was so excited about school and riding the bus with the big kids that he got on the same bus the very next day. At least this time, we knew where to bring him home.
That story brought tears to my eyes. Those brave, trusting children, and their trusting parents. Thank you for all the help you give them.
Man, I thought it was a challenge teaching ESL Spanish-language students. Fine article detailing these issues.