Reflections Learned Through Trauma to Better Support Emergent Learners
By Scot Burkholder
Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, personal empathic connections with our students and their families have been discussed ad nauseum and have rightly taken precedence alongside our mission to transform instruction. But recently I experienced an existential crisis which required me to ask whether we are taking a true inventory on our educational environments and forming meaningful two-way connections with our learners and their families or are we simply assuming that we do this well based on our years of experience? Through this personal narrative, I hope to share my journey of asking this question about connections which will largely be presented free of acronyms, sanitized board approved language, and repetitive consultant based PD. Therefore, this is not meant to be a scholarly, research heavy piece we have all read a hundred times on the importance of building relationships with our ELL students to ensure we reach them that has all the requisite boxes checked with a university citation. No, it is a personal story of how my perspective changed when, even after 20+ years of intervention and instructional experience teaching in and running schools and now coordinating a district program for language learners, I had to reexamine my practice because I was suddenly the one in need of intervention, support, and care from others.
The lessons discussed in this piece have been shared with some educators in my district because our town, Wayne, has experienced a significant increase in emergent learners. Over the past three years, 72 students have been enrolled in our schools (the majority of whom are enrolled in our ESL program) that were born outside of the United States and have been enrolled in a US school for less than 3 years. As a background, our expanding program of approximately 230 English Language Learners boasts an impressive 25 different home languages, making for a wonderfully diverse student population both educationally and culturally. We have 11 exceptional ESL teachers who work wonders everyday on behalf of our students. In addition to daily instruction, we offer after school, summer, other online supplemental instructional and conversational English support sessions for our students, wellness resources for students and families, and opportunities to share information with our parents. Simply put, our educators, like many around the state, have stepped up immeasurably over the past two years despite the multitude of challenges we have faced and have continued to truly make a difference for our students and their families.
So that brings me back to the question I am seeking to explore: what did I learn the past two years that I thought I knew already? This is a recurring question/process, not a destination, so this piece is not meant to be finished or applied as a one size fits all discussion. However, prior to my own traumatic experience which placed me in the emergent learner category, I truly believed I could feel, based on having probably a thousand conversations with English Learners and their families over the years, all of their concerns, hopes, and worries when we had conversations and conferences. I know we served them well and we helped their children make progress, but after what happened in my case, I had to relearn what it feels like to be on the other side of the conference table or classroom during these discussions. My story is not dissimilar to many who have experienced trauma and challenges, but pushed through over the course of the past two years (and for many who experience trauma prior to this current nationwide crisis), though it may be unique in terms of the specifics.
For over 10 years, I have had some variation of hearing loss. This has always made me feel like I had a deeper connection to students and families in need. After all, disability or medical concerns can present and be treated in a similar manner as our English Language support programs depending on the diagnosis and need. That is why it has always been critical to have general education, paraprofessionals, counseling, nursing, CST, ESL/bilingual staff and administrators work together and be involved in supporting students and their families during any evaluative period to ensure all angles are covered. Although we know that language and disability are not one and the same, it is true that for many students and/or referral processes that language development needs and underlying disability can compound one another. Yet there are still some teams asking if it is simply a “one or the other department” or asking “whose student is this” without consulting colleagues or considering in a deeper manner the needs of the student. In a well run school, all of the students are “our children” and embrace the “It takes a village” philosophy. I have always brought this perspective to my work. Since I struggle with hearing others (especially in places with background noise so prevalent in school), it felt easy to understand why some students, including new entrant ELL students, seem lost in class or are perceived to be less academically capable than their peers. They are learning, communicating, and compensating on the fly while instruction is pushing forward. This can also be due to a lack of accommodations or accessibility support. On top of the classroom dynamic, there is also a significant stigma attached to asking for help, admitting you struggle with something, and fear of being shown to not be as advanced as your peers in class (or work). If I felt that in my 40’s with all the advantages and privileges I have in my life, imagine what that fear, loneliness, inferiority, and worry feels like to a new entrant, refugee, or first generation student starting over in our schools. They say you learn best by doing and I can attest to that. Professional development which does not relay the impact the learners feel when discussing achievement gaps or how to present strategies is meaningless.
In the months leading up to the March 2020 rapid closure of schools due to Coronavirus, I was experiencing more profound hearing loss in my right ear. This was my “good ear”, doing most of the heavy lifting, as the left ear was weaker from previously diagnosed Meniere’s disease. I began to worry because my hearing crutch for my work and home hearing was weakening. I wasn’t able to admit it to myself at the time, but I was getting by instead of looking for help. Sound like any students we know? Have we, as educators, asked if there is something else going on before thinking they are not interested or applying themselves? My experiences trying to get help felt like admonishments teachers dole out to underperforming students. An audiologist questioned why I had never properly addressed my hearing in my left ear. My poorly reasoned response was that my right had been fine and life was too busy. Continuing with the familiar refrain of having “no time” to address the hearing on the left side because the right one “worked”. Here I felt the first sign of poor self-reflection in my own practice. Haven’t I asked the same questions of students in need of language support or CST evaluation? Have I judged a family on why they would not accept an ESL program offer despite the fact it would lead to a removal from their current school/neighborhood they worked hard to become a part of, away from the first teachers who welcomed their children fully? But I wondered if that doctor’s approach was to “call me out or call me in” to a solution, one triggers defensiveness and the other signals support. How would this apply to my journal of how to be a better educator?
Then I experienced the “call in” support I needed. The nurse on duty while I was dealing with the shame of not addressing my need based on the audiologist’s comments, changed everything for me. She sat right next to me, looked me in the eye, and placed her hand on my shoulder. She connected with me on my level and showed empathy in a way I could feel, the same way we ask teachers to meet students who are struggling or to comfort upset kindergarteners. She asked me to tell her about my struggles in caring for my family and students, and the difficulty in finding time to address my care. She explained additional testing to make me feel comfortable in addressing a tough challenge proactively and feeling more in control of any decisions that needed to be made. Another lesson which translates to education.
Further testing was done, but coinciding with the Covid-19 shut down, medical facilities were not responding as promptly as in the past. Weeks went by before I received my results. In my family, no news was not good news. Results indicated further diagnosis was required which meant more waiting. A week does not sound like a ton of time when you believe that the news was better than it could have been, but again thinking of educational parallels, we and our students and their families cannot help but bring our prior knowledge into what we encounter. Despite the local doctor believing this was not significant, my prior history was really concerning me. Again, reflecting on my practice, how many times have I had difficulty understanding why the “good news” or program I had presented did not land with a family the way I hoped. Likely because I was not considering the other worries, rational or not, that they brought to the meeting.
That was not the end of my journey and not what compelled me to write this piece. After meeting with a surgeon, it was decided that leaving things alone was not the best course of action. The procedure seemed to be a success, the prognosis was good. However, one night I discovered that my challenge was not over. On the evening of August 11, 2020 I felt a sudden popping. My hearing on the right side was gone. It was terrifying due to the immediacy and the deafening silence that followed. I was still in the prolonged process of getting a hearing aide and now was left with no hearing. I could not hear my kids, I felt completely lost in many social situations and felt I could not co-parent with my wife. I had to take a leave for a few weeks or work online so I could use captions or type to communicate with our staff. It took three weeks, less than a typical evaluation time in an I&RS plan, to get a hearing aid for my left ear, yet it seemed like a lifetime of personal struggle and worrying to me. We need to understand how delays can impact our students’ and their families’ attitudes toward school.
I slowly taught myself how to read lips (which was not made easier by masks by the way), paid close attention to others and non-verbal communication more than I ever had. Eventually, I was able to get a cochlear implant for my right ear. This required me to relearn how to hear sounds and phrases, in a way like learning a new language. This process has restored my life and my NYU audiologist credits being an educator as a huge reason I am achieving my hearing goals. Skills such as anticipatory language, context clues, and other things we use to teach students paid huge dividends when I needed to re-teach myself. Support, education, and encouragement from others led me to the decision; hard work and more support led me to thrive after becoming deaf. In a story full of loss, they allowed me to spike the football once for the road traveled. We need to, as year two of the pandemic drags on, remind ourselves to celebrate the wins.
So to wrap up this personal story, I want to offer a few more lessons I learned from this experience which I now remind myself and ask others to consider which benefit all of our students, but especially English Language Learners, students with socioemotional needs, and those referred for educational support:
1. We talked about the human side of education frequently throughout this pandemic, but do we review our own practice? I can tell you, having experienced feeling completely lost in educational and home settings much like a new entrant with no English experience may feel, that you can absolutely feel the difference between apathy, sympathy, and empathy. One doctor, who was referred to as “one of the best”, turned his back on me while he was talking even though I could not hear, another began talking a mile a minute through a mask because he had not read my chart before meeting me. Both made me feel bad. It was not their intention, but any opportunity to heal or learn from them was damaged. Others in my life occasionally seemed frustrated at repeating themselves and said they’d text me. They did not intentionally mean to cause me distress, but that was the result. The nurse and main neurosurgeon from my story, both always took the time to ask how I was doing, if I could understand them, or if I needed anything before throwing information at me. It made all the difference. Their eyes or hand on my shoulder calmed my nerves and made me feel capable in a way their PHD or charts could never do. So when meeting with students and their families, connect with them, ask them how they are, and invest in what they need, not what you need to tell them first. Allow them to hand off some of their baggage and try to leave yours out of the meeting.
2. Make sure you are asking the right questions. One question I get asked a lot since my experience is, “can you hear me”. It is meant to be a nice question, a way of checking in and I always take it that way. But what they really mean is: can you understand me? A natural ear has a spiral design and hearing hairs or nerves which drown out background noise and amplify more important sounds. Having your “ear” as a microphone on the outside means all the external noise is amplified (wind, noise, music, etc.) and it can drown out voices. The problem is not that I cannot hear, it is that I hear too much. So those who ask if I can understand, if an air purification device or window or other background noise is making it harder to hear, assist me quicker. I also have been much better about asking for myself. However, remember with young learners, the stigma of needing help may outweigh asking to silence extraneous sounds to maximize the hearing environment in the classroom.
3. Do your homework on your students and their families … and be present in every meeting. Anyone I met with who was not aware of my condition always seemed to feel bad at having to look it up during our meetings when it could have been learned by reading the file. Those who looked at their phone or checked something else caused me to wonder if they were focused on helping me or distracted. While we have a million concerns as educators and concerns in our own families, the time we meet with parents or we spend in class is the center of that child or family’s experience and a part of their hope, anxiety, or struggle. If you are a teacher or an administrator serving that student, have you read their educational background, IEP, prior teacher notes, consulted with an ESL teacher or general education teacher about what they are seeing in their classroom? Being present and knowing more about their circumstance shows them we value their trust in us and will help and support them in any way.
4. Ensure our interactions, whether update communications, in person conferences, or our classroom time is respectful and considerate of their needs. This one sounds obvious, especially since we discuss TPR, SIOP, Orton, Wilson and a hundred other strategies to make the curriculum more accessible to all students. But having a full toolbox of strategies is not enough if we do not consider what each student needs individually from that skillset or pedagogy. One example, applicable to emergent learners, is my over reliance on reading two or three stories over and over again to my kids when I could not hear. Did I want to read the emergency rescue vehicles, or that Frozen book which tells the same tired story again and again, of course not. I did so because I could not trust my own reading because I couldn’t hear myself read it for the first time in my life. It was survival. Despite doing thousands of readings alouds in front of class, I struggled in front of toddlers. There are educational parallels. Do our students guess answers or repeat things to ensure they get a tacit approval and then we will move on? Do they select the same book or similar books because they know enough of the book to seem like they get it? Do we know? Does student X like dinosaurs or princesses or is it a BICS vs. CALP situation with a student choosing basic interactions to get by vs. feeling supported to take a chance and learn deeper cognitive skills and develop language?
5. Always involve all staff who will encounter our students in need in discussing their current ability, needs, potential and to gather support ideas. No matter how many highly rated specialists I met, all of my growth could be attributed to my family for supporting me and that first nurse who took the extra time to make the connection that put me on a road to a new life. So frequently in our schools, students gravitate to those they feel care about them regardless of title or assignment. Paraprofessionals, support staff from similar backgrounds, cafeteria staff who see the students in a more informal setting … all can play a critical role in ensuring the students feel comfortable and engaged in our school. How often are the caring folks in these roles asked about the students when we design support plans? How often do we provide them more information about the students backgrounds to help them get to know the kids before their first interaction when the student may need help in a stressful situation?
6. Don’t discredit the things we, as educators, feel in our personal lives. We also are experiencing stress, loss, challenges, and many of the things that our families are dealing with. Apply your support of others to yourself and be open when you need help. Teaching and leading schools can be very lonely and can be very stressful. Looking at our own wellness enables us to help others. In my case, trying to make a difference for our students and staff helps my recovery as it pushes my feeling of improvement, contribution, and ultimately worth and belonging. We also, as humans first and educators second, need to remember perspective matters. I have been asked why I remain so positive even in the face of adversity and low points and my answer is simple, I am able to be with my family and work in the education field which is all I have ever wanted to do for my career. I may not have wanted to lose my natural hearing or struggle to find my “new normal” but it could have been worse. Tough times are a spectrum of possibility. If you are still here, you can make steps everyday to push forward, personally and educationally. I may not be 100% physically, but I think I am a better father and educator through this experience and that matters. It is all about perspective.
7. Finally, all of this is about connecting and normalizing support for students of all abilities including our emerging English Learners and their families. Technology can help, but too often prescribed first. I tried a few voice recognition programs (which can also be used for translation) and the translation was rough. It was not always clear what people were trying to communicate to me. We need to communicate and support our students and their families on a regular basis. Federal law and state code require us to communicate in a parent’s home language. Communication happens with our families everyday, but are we using translation services to respect their home language for all correspondence? A family needs their report card, but they also need to know if there is a field trip or PTO meeting. We should be ensuring that occasionally we ask a family if the translation is accurate so we are not using a translation program to send something that makes no sense to them. Or if they have received anything which was only in English. These types of questions show the empathy that we seek and create the connections we need to have when our students and their families are at the table for tough educational discussions. We don’t need to be perfect, but making an attempt to communicate, emphasize and connect in their language shows we care. We can always continue to do better if we have an open dialogue.
The Author – Scot Burkholder currently serves as an Assistant Director for the Student Support Services Department in Wayne, NJ who coordinates all Federal, State, and Special Programs including the English as a Second Language program, federal grant administration, and serves as the districts Anti-Bullying Coordinator. Mr. Burkholder is in his 22nd year in education, having served as a teacher, vice principal, and principal in Plainfield and Wayne prior to his current role as a central officer administrator.