Category: English

Immigrants Speaking English? Again?

Chuka Umunna’s assertion that migrants need to learn English to avoid living parallel lives is most disconcerting. I heard this assertion over two years ago from less savoury quarters and was moved to comment on it at length. I won’t repeat what I said, as tempting as it is, you can read that for yourselves. When Sajid Javid proffered a similar point in 2014, I was embarrassed to see a man from an ethnic minority background with his feet firmly under the desk waving a stop sign to immigrants following in the same path as Javid’s family. It is not the first time I had heard a person of colour saying that new immigrants to the nation must meet a standard that they themselves had not been set, and it won’t be the last time either.

What irks me this time is that it is Labour minister making the assertion and it irks me on several levels. Let me explain. I am painfully aware, as a Labour voter, of the pressure the party is under to be something new, to reincarnate under a messianic leader and to be a credible opposition to a government that has had very little contest in the time it has taken to sort out who’s in charge at Labour HQ. But is this where the Labour Party is going? Did someone send a memo that said Nigel Farage is doing okay with voters in the north and I think we should put out statements that sort of sound like him?

One of the problems with Chuka Umunna’s declaration is that he is a bit late to the party. The Casey Review was commissioned over a year ago by the Prime Minister and Home Secretary, with a remit to investigate integration and opportunity in isolated and deprived communities. The review was released in December 2016. In its 199 pages, it outlined the reasons why learning English if you are new to the country is a good idea. It outlined clearly and with a sense of compassion that life is much harder for immigrants that do not speak English. No one can argue with that.

Take this and the fact that government policy on requirements for immigrants to speak English to be able to gain citizenship or leave to remain seems to be fairly clear – and I am left wondering: why bring this up now, Mr Umunna? Visit www.gov.uk and check the pages on immigration. It’s there. There’s a 15-page list of where you can take the tests to prove your English proficiency before or after you arrive.

So who is Chuka Umunna talking about? What kind of migrant? Refugees? The government have declared they are exempt from the requirement. Transient economic migrants? How do you enforce compulsory classes on a transient population? Established communities living parallel lives, then. I would argue that it would be even harder – and more expensive – to enforce language classes on high-ethnic minority concentration areas such as Bradford. Not because I think people would be unwilling. Immigrants do want to be able to communicate. But there isn’t a solution to that until somebody coughs up the money it would take to cover it. And who is going to explain that to austerity Britain, already chomping at the bit, that tax payers’ money is being spent on funding for immigrant language classes? I would volunteer, but I’m too busy trying to work out how to provide a quality education to students while the Conservative government merrily chips away at the finances.

Crucially, how do you make it happen when two years ago funding for ESOL delivery was slashed – in fact, when funding for ESOL has halved since 2009? I doff my hat to Sajid Javid for finding £20 million for ESOL for Muslim women, who are less likely to learn to speak English than other newcomers. But it doesn’t fix the gaping hole in ESOL funding. It’s still staring at us, while we stare at already marginalised communities and demand that they learn to speak properly.

That’s why Chuka Umunna’s lack of clarity makes me uneasy. That and the fervent desire to hear a leader say something refreshing and new about the society in which we all live and work. Focusing on immigrants speaking English, without a clear funding plan and without having considered the current government’s stance on this, seems a little pointless. Dear Labour Party: give me more than rehashed UKIP fodder, with a side of Conservative Javid.

Originally published as ‘It Costs Money to Teach Immigrants English, Mr Umunna’ on Huffington Post UK

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10 Ways You Know You’re an English Teacher

A bit of froth for the holidays.  I found myself having the same thoughts I have every Easter break and realised that being an English teacher is part of my DNA now.  It doesn’t matter what position you take in a school, your inner-English teacher never goes away.

  1. It’s the Easter holiday and you are thinking about controlled assessment whilst consuming the last of your Waitrose Easter egg haul.  There are still children who were absent, or who missed an hour or two.  You need to catch them when you get back.  Maybe you can find a way to ring home in the holidays to remind them they need their texts.  Maybe you could go to their house to pin them down and make sure they don’t escape.
  2. You’re panicking because time is going too quickly.  You’ve counted how many weeks, no – days – are left before the first exam. And plotted out what you are going to teach lesson by lesson until study leave. Why is study leave even allowed? Why is the iGCSE so early again?  How many more Speaking and Listening exams do you have to record?
  3. You’ve mastered the art of teaching poetry at super speed.  One poem a lesson? Check.  Two poems if they’re both short? Check.
  4. You are not free on a Saturday morning between now and the end of June.  This is just how it is, right?  Other subjects have this too?  Lie ins?  Who needs lie ins?
  5. You harbour huge resentment against Maths – the subject and the department.  You all face the same pressure in theory.  School is measured by Maths and English – making or breaking a school’s reputation.  But – you secretly feel a superiority that you’re not ashamed of – English has to deliver not one, but two GCSEs in the same space of time as Maths.  Pah. You do it every year.
  6. You pride yourself on not having taught the same curriculum consecutively since 2004.  You don’t understand what Science and Maths are complaining about.  Science has stayed Science.  Maths has stayed Maths.  English, however, is the nation’s political football.  And we know how to handle this.  What are we teaching next term to Year 9 anyway?
  7. You quote Of Mice and Men incessantly.  Eating baked beans. I like mine with ketchup.  Reassuring your partner.  You got me and I got you that gives a hoot in hell about us.  Asking a sheepish question. George…?
  8. You wonder whether there’s any need for a new, Summer term notebook.  You’ve seen a lovely one and you’re coveting much.
  9. You own seventeen copies of An Inspector Calls/Animal Farm/Of Mice and Men/Lord of the Flies and Macbeth.  They are all on your shelf at home and yet you can never find a copy when you need one.  You do have all the copies of every poetry anthology ever published and you’re holding in to them just in case Gillian Clark and Ted Hughes ever come back onto the curriculum.
  10. You know you’re about to embark on the worst part of the year but you’ve realised that it’s like being in labour.  Every year this bit is bloody painful, but when Year 11, 12 and 13 go, you experience a state of bliss that makes you forget.  Then you do it again and it’s bloody painful again.

In all of this, we continue reading, teaching, learning and being the best pedants we can be.  Because we secretly love it.  Even this bit before exams.  Honestly.

The Last Battle: What do we do on the morning of an exam?

So tomorrow sees the first iGCSE exam. It’s an early one as far as exams go and marks the kick off for exam season 2015.

Take a moment to say good morning and good luck to your English team tomorrow first thing. If they have students sitting the exam, chances are they have spent months preparing them and so much rests on this moment, for them and for the school.

How do schools prepare for the PM exam? I have Year 11 students off timetable periods 1-4 tomorrow and I know there is nothing new to be said. Some argue there is no point, that now it is up to them. I disagree. Having the students all in one room, looking at past papers and working together on questions triggers memories of the classroom, allows talk to be centred on the process of the exam and prevents silent panickers from squirrelling themselves away to catastrophise.

We have allocated staff to particular ‘groups’ of students: the weaker inferrers, the wafflers, the miss-the-pointers. It isn’t an intervention, it is a setting of direction and a direct addressing of mistakes common to those individuals. It is a round table working party on questions they find difficult.

I have measured out this exam in analogies – ones I have mentioned before in my blogging – particularly in language analysis questions. We are looking for ‘ticking time bombs’ in the text – words and phrases that contribute to meaning. The analogy comes from film making. An image of a ticking time bomb is juxtaposed with an image of the whole building. Why? The ticking time bomb is needed to inform us about that building. It is in danger. Specific words and phrases are used to inform us about a whole text. They are the markers of meaning.

Tomorrow, I will be going back over the concept of sponge vs stone. ‘Stone’ words are words and phases that you cannot squeeze meaning out of. ‘Sponge’ is what you are looking for. Full of meaning that can be wrung out.

The point of sitting with my students tomorrow is to assure them that what we have taught is good and real. Give them breakfast, provide water. To create a sense of collective responsibility. This is what good schools do.

I am looking for the wobblers, I am looking for the over-confident. Having them there together means we can catch the shaky. But most of all I am going to be able to look them in the eye and tell them they have done well to get this far, but now is the time.

Good luck to English teams for tomorrow!

Immigrants Do Want to Learn English: Where Is The Funding?

When Sajid Javid, the first Asian Secretary of State, talks about assimilation and immigrants learning to speak English, I do not naturally object to anything he is saying.  His assertion that respecting a British way of life means “things like trying to learn English” seems sound, if a bit vague.  My family, for the large part, did just that and expected their children to do the same.  Conceptually, it’s a great idea.

My parents, East African Asian and first generation immigrants, spoke English pretty well as they came from former British colonies.  My grandparents, older, more set in their ways, found it more challenging.  Assimilation was an idea, a process that I absorbed without really thinking about what it meant politically. I grew up in a predominantly Asian community, choosing  to speak English all the time, refusing to go to Gujerati school because my uncle was the teacher and I was too embarrassed to attend, having my friends call me a ‘coconut’ (brown on the outside and white on the inside) – these were all part of my every day experience.  I became an English teacher.  About as assimilated as you can be, I suppose.

I wonder though, and I may be wearing something of a cynical hat, how much of Sajid Javid’s statements are really about the value of language learning to families who arrive on our shores.  In a political climate in which UKIP’s Nigel Farage openly scaremongers about Romanian families coming to live next door and possibly stealing from you, you can almost imagine the conversation at Tory headquarters.  How does a mainstream political party join in the populist rhetoric on immigration and yet not be seen as a group of fascists or loons?  I know, let’s send an Asian man to say it and then it won’t be seen as such a bad thing, because if the Asians are saying it, it’s okay right?  Right?  Dave, are you still listening?

So forgive me if I’m not seeing this for what it is – apparently an attempt by the Conservative Party to protect Britishness.  It reads a little bit like pre-election UKIP neutralisation, a little bit like ‘easy for me, therefore easy for you’ lazy politicking and also a little bit like internalised oppression.

I teach English to London’s melting pot.  I know the value of learning to speak the language of the country you are in.  Not because speaking a different language is somehow an insult to the country you have chosen to live in, but because it is useful to be able to communicate with education and medical professionals, especially if you have children.

Recently, I set up English classes for parents of a particular ethnic group at my school as I identified that many parents from this group, and in particular, mothers were finding it difficult to communicate with teachers.  Parents’ evenings were hard work and came with much embarrassment for all involved, children included.  I found a member of support staff who was TEFL trained and finally found some money for her to teach English, after school was finished for the day, to a group of parents.  The take up was fantastic and parents were enormously grateful for the opportunity.   It proved to me what I already knew, that immigrant families are keen for the opportunity to learn and will take it when offered.  My school made a small step in encouraging participation in society by doing something practical, by providing a solution.  You see, Mr Javid, as someone who also believes that speaking English is important in England, I put my money where my mouth is.

What occurs to me is that in all the rhetoric, Sajid Javid has forgotten something very simple.  Where is the government funding and access for keen families and individuals to learn English if they should wish it?  While the will may be there from immigrant families, the financial ability to attend classes may not be.  Schools could be, like mine, a hub for community learning, but there are staffing and funding implications for this.  As a qualified English teacher, who knows how important it is to the parents of my students to speak English, I do not have the funding or the power to offer them a way to communicate.  None of this has been addressed in Sajid Javid’s’s speech.  What is worse is that his speech somewhat relies on the fact that people may not remember the Conservative government cut funding to ESOL classes in 2011, meaning fewer immigrants could access these classes for free.   There will be people who ask why newcomers should have access to English classes for free.  Well, people, you can’t have it both ways.  I imagine, when it comes down to a choice between using limited family income on food, clothing and essentials, or English classes so no one around you feels uncomfortable when you speak your own language instead, it doesn’t take a genius to work out which route newcomers take.

There is a real opportunity here to do something extremely positive for new communities in the UK.  I guess this is not just a Conservative issue; I am yet to hear any politician, mainstream or otherwise, provide a real solution to this age-old problem.  Instead of just telling us from what seems like a fairly privileged position what you think about speaking English in England, you could use your influence to provide funding, possibly to schools that already have the premises and in many cases, the staff, for ESOL classes for the immigrant parents of the children.  You could support the work of schools who already provide language classes for parents and the local community. If you are going to send an Asian man to deliver this message, you could have him explain how his family did it – and what resources they used to access the English language.

It would certainly take the fear and scaremongering out of the politics and serve to identify the political wheat from the chaff – parties that want to affect real change, not just pontificate on it.