Tag: school

Are ICEbreakers appropriate for EML students this year?

The school year has gotten off to a quiet start, against the most horrifying backdrop imaginable for immigrant students in the English Language  Development (ELD) program (formerly called ESOL). Images on the news show ICE agents throwing black and brown men to the ground and leading them away in handcuffs, disappearing them to unknown destinations, where due process is almost nonexistent. Law-abiding residents just going to work. The families and neighbors of my students targeted by armed men in masks.

I teach at one of the largest high schools in the state of Maryland, with a student population that’s 60% Hispanic, and about 25% actively enrolled in our ELD program. After sitting through a week of Pre-Service teacher meetings where not a single mention of immigration was made, I sent an email message to my supervisor pointing out my concerns that students might face unusually high levels of anxiety and fear as they come back to school this year. And maybe we could send an email to the entire staff. And share the robust MCPS web page for Immigrant Supports. 

I even mentioned that the typical classroom ICEbreakers might be triggering for some students.

Instead of support, I got called in to my supervisor’s office and reprimanded for sending out a “political” message using school email. Apparently now it’s “political” to express concern for EML students.

Is it that my supervisors are low-key MAGA enthusiasts? Are they afraid? Do they just not want to be inconvenienced? Why would someone in charge of a program comprising 100% immigrant students not be on the side of our students? Of their teachers and staff? (as an aside, one of my colleagues, whose spouse was born overseas, says he takes his U.S. passport with him to take out the trash so that he won’t be arrested). We are living in an era where our government is turning against us.

I am deeply distressed that school leaders have ignored my concerns and are trying to pretend that everything is normal. Even worse, they told me, “You need to be careful. I don’t want you to get in trouble” WTF?! I was pointing out that we need to be aware of pressures our students were facing outside of school that could affect attendance, participation in school events, grades, and social-emotional well-being. Isn’t that important any more?

If this what the school year will look like for 2025-2026, then I’m not sure how I’ll make it through. I will follow school rules and be compliant at work, but outside of the duty day, I will use my teacher voice to exercise my First Amendment rights while I still have them, to speak out in support of immigrants, the people who actually keep our country running.

Even though the Department of Education has quietly rescinded the federal guidelines for students learning English, I will support my students, whatever their immigration status, for as long as I am able. Which may not be very long, at this rate.

Through a confidential source, I learned that the MCPS International Office usually admits close to 1,000 newcomer students every year. Last year, they admitted 850. This year, only 12.

I hope I’ll make it another year. Or at least until a time when choosing the right ICEbreaker activity is my biggest back-to-school concern.

ELD Teachers: Still the illegitimate step-children of the district

Twenty five years ago I started my MCPS career teaching in a stairwell. As the newbie, I was content to pull kids into a quiet, sunny space, even though I felt a little unwanted, like Harry Potter. The specialized small-group instruction allowed them to feel more comfortable practicing English and taking academic risks than gathered than in a large room with 24 others.

Then the fire marshal came along and shut me down.

Since 2000, I have taught elementary, middle and high school classes – all levels of ESOL (before they were called ELD), Developmental Reading, Basic Reading, READ 180, Academic Acceleration, and SLIFE. I’ve co-taught Physics, Basic Math, and English 6, 9, 10, 11, and 12. I’ve taught alone in my own classroom or in a shared space. I’ve pulled kids out of the classroom and I’ve plugged into the classroom.

As I changed schools, grade levels, and instructional models, one thing has become clear: ELD teachers are expected to teach just about any subject at every grade level, and to remain completely flexible and fluid. Most teachers grumble when they have to learn a new curriculum or when the district launches a new state test. But ESOL teachers have had to endure an onslaught of changes to their profession year after year after year.

The changing acronyms and language around our field may be the best example of dramatic shifts. The field of ESOL became ELD, while the students are EMLs (Emergent Multilingual Learners), and the classes they take are ELP courses. I have no idea what that stands for. Our district office is called DELME. Whatever.

Just to keep us on our toes, the district DELME Office keeps purchasing new curriculum resources, each requiring many hours of extra teacher prep time to use effectively. We’ve gone from an internally-written (and in my opinion, excellent) curriculum guide to boxed sets: Rigor, System 44, READ 180, Study Sync, CKLA and more. Let’s not forget the grossly inappropriate frog reader books purchased for our high school METS/ SLIFE students in 2018 that were mostly warehoused before they even saw a classroom.

Around the county, our ELD book rooms are full of discarded materials that probably cost the district hundreds of thousands of dollars and cost the teachers hundreds of hours of prep time.

Recently, MCPS moved to a co-teaching model of instruction for secondary students (see my September 2024 blog https://wp.me/p6YtYW-BR). It’s also a new instructional model that takes time for teachers to learn. Instead of ELD classes at different proficiency levels focusing on specific language objectives, now all but the newcomers are mainstreamed into math, science, and social studies classes — often with no curriculum to support language learning. This can be good for some students, especially those who are fully literate in their own languages. But students at lower levels of proficiency risk being left behind.

It is the burden of the co-teacher to develop lessons that support these ELD students in addition to negotiating for time and space to deliver those lessons.

I would like to work with our struggling students in small groups, but I have only the noisy hallway for pull-out instruction. I have no classroom, except the space I share with my co-teachers during our 50 minutes together.

During my contractual planning periods, I sit at a shared desk in a cramped office where there’s no place to hang my coat. Staff come and go to use the refrigerator, the microwave, or just to chat. Sometimes I’m happy for the camaraderie, but mostly it’s hard to get any work done. There’s no place to make a personal phone call during the school day or to have a private meeting with a colleague. There’s no quiet space to decompress after a morning dancing diplomatically around another teacher.

My working conditions have come full circle in 25 years.

We’ve just hired three new ELD teachers for next school year, and I’m already anxious about where they’ll sit. Our department is suddenly bigger than the English Department and yet we have half the working space they do.

That stairwell from 25 years ago is looking like a really attractive option.






Getting HS Seniors Across the Finish Line

Since 2009 I’ve been shepherding high school seniors out the front door in time to walk across the stage in a cap and gown at graduation. Sometimes they barely make it. The students who glide through 12th grade aren’t the ones whose stories linger. It’s the ones who barely make it, the immigrants who will make their families proud, who worked hard for a Maryland State Diploma. 

On Monday, Cee sat in my ELD Seminar class, uncharacteristically glum. 

“Miss!” (that’s how they address me) “I don’t think I can pass Modern World History. I don’t think I can graduate this year.” 

“Have you talked to the teacher? What assignments are missing? Who is your teacher? I will email them to find out.”

In a mixed class, where only a handful of seniors sit among sophomores and juniors, the teachers aren’t always aware of the urgency of grading an assignment that can make or break a senior’s chance to walk across the stage with the rest of their class. The teacher got back to me. Cee was passing the class with 64% D — enough to earn credit and be on track to graduate. Now all that remained was Credit Recovery for English 12A and English 12B, an online self-paced class. I emailed the teacher to ask about what he else needed to do. She unlocked the last Edmentum Unit Test so he could work on it during Seminar class. 

Eff skipped Seminar the last week of school. He works full time as a cook in a fancy local restaurant — he showed me pictures of his plating technique. Since he’d already passed every class, he was focused more on accruing extra hours at work to pay rent and utilities — a reality for many older immigrant students. Except he didn’t realize that he still needed 25 more Student Service Learning hours, a Maryland State graduation requirement. Another teacher and I scrambled to work with his counselor and administrator to get him the hours necessary.

Getting seniors across the finish line seems harder this year. Maybe because I’m at a new school with a different demographic than my previous school. It seems hard to believe they didn’t know about SSL hours, or how much work they needed to complete for a class, but when students are the first in their family to graduate from high school, you can’t assume they’re getting any help navigating the school system from Mom or Dad.


Other factors define the hardships faced by the class of 2025 — the English Multilingual Learners in my school, in my district, right now. And some of what I’ve seen is disturbing. 

In August 2024, the district changed how it evaluates international student transcripts. In a move that sounds equitable, but is deeply flawed, they began awarding credits to students from other countries who took English in their home country — without first determining a student’s level of language proficiency. In the past, international students were given a placement test to determine what classes to take. It sometimes meant that older students were put back a grade level so that they could acquire better English. Now those students are placed in mainstream content courses, like Math, Science, and Social Studies, without adequate language support. They struggle to keep up because their academic English skills are still developing.

As a result, this year, for the first time, we have newcomer students graduate with a high school diploma who can not read, write or speak English. And I’m worried that it’s only going to get worse. Dee is such a student. I got to know him second semester, when he’d already stopped coming to class. I called home, talked to his guardian, met to his counselor, emailed his administrator. He was completely discouraged because he could not understand what we were doing in class. So we made him a deal. If he finished the final Common Writing Task, we would give him a passing grade (60%) so he could earn credit and graduate.

English Multilingual Learners (we used to call them ESOL students, but that was deemed “deficit language” so we switched the acronym to EML) need explicit language instruction by a qualified teacher. They also benefit from smaller classes, where the teacher can guide them through an often-incomprehensible landscape of grades, credits, and SSL hours. They also need enough time to learn.

I wish we had more hours of instruction for these students. But for Cee, Eff, and Dee, a Maryland State Diploma is a meaningful achievement. For me, helping seniors cross the stage in their caps and gowns is one of the most rewarding jobs I have ever had.

Losing my rocket boosters

It’s the first week of summer break, and I’m doing what many teachers are doing: making medical appointments, washing clothes, cleaning closets, planting petunias, and catching up on all the ignored chores that I have no time for during the school year.

After six years at Richard Montgomery High School, I’ve packed up my classroom, said good bye to students and colleagues, and posted final grades. I’m transferring to another high school in the fall. A school closer to my home with a bigger population of English Multilingual Learners. A school where, hopefully, I can soar to new heights.

I make this transition with mixed feelings. The experience of working at “a good school” is seared into my memory. In the morning, kids hold the door open for teachers as we enter from the parking lot. When disruptive students push each other in the halls, I yell, “Hey, no violence!” They apologize sheepishly and walk away. Because at RM my tone could be light – students were just exuberant the last weeks of school. 

I will miss the United Nations roster of names in my classes. Students from 39 different language backgrounds. Blonde students from Europe. Black students from West Africa. Afghani students with powerful stories. Regular kids who have a job after school, drive their own car, or play on a state-champion sports team. Students who occasionally question my assertions (they’re paying attention!). Students who say thank you.

I will miss the principal fly-bys, and our micro relationship-building sessions. The conversations with my English Department colleagues as we pass in the hallways or wait for the bathroom. My fellow ELD teachers who helped propel me through the worst school year of my life. The one-to-one chats with teachers from other departments who sought me out as MCEA union rep. The committees I served on. Working with the Career Coach or the senior class sponsor. Attending Prom.

All these memories empower me, but I know it’s time to move on. I appreciate everything that I’ve learned at RMHS and the support that I’ve been given. I’m ready for a new challenge.

Sometimes a Rocket has to lose its boosters before it can reach higher altitudes.