What's the Problem?

For Arts of Communication class, Kennedy School of Government.  Assignment: Deliver a speech stating a problem and proposing solutions.  NB: Constrained by a four-minute max, there's a lot I couldn't get to.  And the story's true--but the name Maria Gomez isn't.

A year and a half ago, Maria Gomez, a woman in her mid-thirties who had immigrated from Peru about a year before, stepped to the microphone in the event room in a small human-services agency in Roxbury.  She stood upright, her black hair pulled back over a pressed white blouse.  She was one of a group of adults graduating from a 5-month, twelve hour a week, English as a Second Language class.  She looked out at the crowd, and said, “When I went to the doctor’s for an appointment with my children, before, I had problems.  Now when I go to the doctor’s, I say, I don’t need a translator.”  In a place more accustomed to the artful speeches of Nanci Pelosi or David Brooks, it might seem curious to highlight the testimonial of a low-income immigrant parent.  Around here, it’s easy to overlook the adults in our community who lack basic skills.  Rather than overlook these folks, though, let’s give them a closer look.  The Roxbury program Maria graduated from was one I started and ran for two years; my adult education experience has taken me into consulting and teacher-training.  So today, I’d like to describe the problem of immigrant literacy—and recommend some solutions.

Maria is not alone.  2 million immigrants enter the US annually; half of them either have low literacy or don’t speak English.  There are many consequences: let me focus on two: our economy—and our next generation.  First, all the research shows, if we’re going to maintain America’s global competitiveness, our workers must get better skills.  To this, some would say, why focus on helping immigrants make a big leap in their skills?  Why not focus on workers who already speak English and have some skills, helping them make the small steps to move up in the economy?  The answer brings me to our second consequence: the next generation.  More and more, our K-12 students are the children of immigrants.  And a parent with low literacy is less likely to pay attention to their kids’ homework or pick up the phone and call their teacher.  The struggle for adult literacy is a struggle for the economy and for our children.  And Maria is a great example of what’s possible: after my class, she kept studying English, got her citizenship, and started a Home Health Aide training program. 

Maria's an example of someone with low skills who found a solution.  The bigger problem is, we’re not serving enough people like Maria, and we’re not serving them well enough.  That’s a two-fold problem: capacity and quality.  First, capacity: Right here in Cambridge, go down Mass Ave about a mile to the Community Learning Center.  Their waitlist is 434 people long.  Statewide, a study in the 90s verified there were 15,000 people on waitlists for ESL.  That means months or years waiting for a seat.  Second, quality.  According to a national evaluation, a third of all adult ESL students leave class within the first two months.  Why does somebody drop out?  He doesn’t feel like he’s making much progress.  Or programs hold classes during the day—and that’s when his job is.

Let me move to solutions.  The adult literacy field needs something like what the Celtics have needed for two years: to get bigger, and get better.  First, the bigger part.  Proposing more funding for anything is a tough sell these days.  But an investment in education is a down payment for our economy and our kids.  That argument may not carry the day everywhere, but it sure does in some places.  Indeed, right here, in his recent State of the Commonwealth speech, Governor Patrick proposed building workers’ skills, in part through increased funding for community colleges—which happen to be a key bridge to higher skills for many immigrants.  That wisdom for investing in the future should be extended to adult ESL.  But an alternative to government support are public-private partnerships.  In Chinatown, the Asian American Civic Association goes into Tufts Medical Center, and offers three levels of ESL for hospital employees.  It’s good for everyone, and Tufts picks up the tab. 

           

           Some will ask: why make a system bigger when it hasn’t proven its effectiveness at current scale?  To address that serious concern brings me to my second solution: Should adult-education get bigger, it must get much, much better.  That third of students who drop out?  We need to get them to where Maria got.  The best solutions will probably come from the dedicated teachers who understand how to work with adults.  But here are a few of my ideas: locate ESL programs in K-12 schools, and provide daycare.  Increase professional development for teachers to provide an engaging curriculum that students like and learn from.  And make sure students are in the right classroom in the first place.  Increase assessment when students start class—what does Maria already know?  What does she struggle with?—and get students in a class with others at similar levels, so they aren’t lost, or bored.  Those are a few ideas: there are many more. 

           As future policymakers, I ask you: when the conversation turns to education, please think of it beyond just K-12.  Think of adults, too.  As citizens, I ask you: when we talk about immigration, let’s move beyond culture or who doesn’t belong.  Let’s move the conversation to the skills everyone needs.  Let’s move the conversation to how to help more people get those skills, and help themselves, their children, and our entire economy.  Thank you.