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Abstract
Past research suggests that community after-school programs (ASPs) are crucial sites for culturally relevant programming for minority and immigrant youth; yet, we know little about how ASPs address language in their programming. Using an ethnographic fieldwork approach, we examine the goals and practices of ASP workers serving immigrant youth with diverse ethnic and language backgrounds in San Francisco, California. We find that, despite the best intentions regarding culturally relevant programming, ASP workers faced funding mandates, capacity issues, and increasingly diverse youth populations, and they adopted English-only policies or simply placed little priority on native-language usage. Ultimately, we observed competing processes related to English dominance: a lack of support for English language learners (ELLs) and bilingual youth, and the use of English as a bridge language across racial and ethnic lines. While staff sought to support and empower immigrant youth, ELL youth were often left on the sidelines and had limited opportunities to develop social capital in ASPs. Without reworking funding and institutional systems for language programming, English dominance may continue as a normalized method of practice in city youth programs.
Introduction
Community after-school programs (ASPs) are crucial sites for minority and immigrant youth1 to develop social identities and supportive relationships (Baldridge, Lamont Hill, & Davis, 2011; Wong, 2010; Woodland, 2008). Often formed and run by local community members, community ASPs operate outside of public school restrictions and have greater leeway to cater their missions and practices to empower and assist marginalized groups. In urban centers, community ASPs work to strengthen the unique identities and talents of low-income minorities, possibly facilitating a greater sense of belonging among vulnerable youth populations (Fashola, 2003; Wong, 2010).
Prior work identifies “culturally relevant pedagogy”—a model that helps students affirm their cultural identities and challenge institutional inequalities—as a critical aspect of community ASPs (see Ladson-Billings, 1995; Wong, 2010). Although this type of pedagogy can be found in both in- and out-of-school settings, ASP staff have greater time and motivation to reinforce home cultures and encourage youth to take pride in their cultural identities. These staff can serve as mentors, helping underserved youth navigate the dual worlds of home and school (Lee & Hawkins, 2008; Woodland, 2008). In addition, the organizational missions and goals of community ASPs commonly acknowledge the social status and attributes of local families and work to support and bolster, rather than dismiss, such attributes.
While past research has argued that community ASPs are well positioned to offer “culturally relevant” programming, we do not know how ASPs develop such programming when serving youth from different cultural backgrounds. Most of the research on community ASPs focuses on the experiences of one immigrant or minority group or on programs where staff and youth share the same ethnic, racial, or language backgrounds (Wong, 2010; Zhou & Kim, 2006). With more than 150 distinct languages represented among immigrant youth in the United States today, ethnic and language diversity are important aspects of modern ASPs (Batalova & McHugh, 2010; London, Gurantz, & Norman, 2011). Scant research examines language in the after-school sector, despite the fact that immigrant youth face barriers to appropriate language services in schools and need language support as they transition to American society (Suárez-Orozco, Suárez-Orozco, & Todorova, 2008).
Building upon past research on community programs, we explore ASP practices and programming for immigrant youth from diverse ethnic and language backgrounds. How do workers in immigrant-serving ASPs acknowledge and address language issues in the face of diversity? How do practices align (or not) with the culturally relevant missions and goals of community ASPs? We focus on the negotiated circumstances and dilemmas faced by community workers and the potential consequences for the empowerment of immigrant and language-minority youth.
We use data from semi-structured, in-depth interviews with ASP staff and participant observations of four youth programs in San Francisco, California—a long-standing immigrant gateway where over 60% of youth ages 17 and younger are 1st- or 2nd-generation immigrants and nearly 30% in public schools are English language learners (ELLs; Pastor, Ortiz, Carter, Scoggins, & Perez, 2012). These programs primarily served pre-adolescent and adolescent youth aged 7 to 15 and, as we later detail, were located in low-income, diversifying urban neighborhoods with under-resourced, low-performing schools.
We found that ASP workers highlighted the benefits of bilingualism and sought to engage in culturally relevant practices; however, the multiple challenges associated with serving diverse youth populations, coupled with funding constraints and uneven or unclear ideas about how to address language issues, helped to produce English-dominant programming and practices. Some ASPs even adopted formal English-only policies to deal with diversity and funding pressures. Such practices limited possibilities for social connections, empowerment, and belonging among ELLs in ASPs. At the same time, these practices served to promote interethnic dialogue and communication with respect to culture and identity among bilingual and English-fluent youth and staff. We discuss how diverse ASPs can adequately develop language programming in the face of compounding constraints and dilemmas and the context of an English-dominant and “colorblind” society.
Social Capital Theory, Empowerment, and Cultural Programming
While adolescence can be a difficult period of transition for all youth, immigrant youth face additional challenges related to acculturation. They not only navigate home and school environments that are often incongruous, but they also face social, economic, and linguistic barriers to successful integration in mainstream American schools (Suárez-Orozco et al., 2008). During adolescence, healthy and supportive relationships with peers and adults can facilitate the acquisition of social capital—the often invisible advantages and opportunities embedded within social relations and structures that are useful for navigating institutions (Stanton-Salazar, 2011). Compared with their White middle-class peers, low-income immigrants and minorities have limited access to institutional support systems through family ties; therefore, social relationships in youth spaces can be particularly valuable (Louie, 2012; Roffman, Suárez-Orozco, & Rhodes, 2003).
We draw from a social capital framework that asserts that trust, shared norms, and belonging, or the affective qualities of social bonding, are key for the development of productive social connections in social settings (Coleman, 1988; Stanton-Salazar, 2011). Relational or dyadic ties are not inherent within individuals; rather, they are produced in social systems that condition trust dynamics and social interactions. In particular, teachers and other youth workers—adults with authority in schools and ASPs—can facilitate the development of trust and belonging in youth spaces. By opening up lines of communication and reaching out to individual youth, ASP staff can develop trust and alleviate social divides (Jones & Deutsch, 2011; Stanton-Salazar, 2011). Other research suggests that immigrant and minority youth feel more empowered and experience higher levels of self-efficacy when ASP workers bridge the unequal “worlds” of home and school, and draw upon the personal experiences and identities of youth (Baldridge et al., 2011; Wong, 2010). Trust in youth programs can facilitate greater confidence and a sense of belonging that youth can apply to other settings (Griffith & Larson, 2016).
Immigrant Youth and Language Programming in Schools
Prior work observes an association between native-language usage and developmental outcomes, such as higher self-esteem and a positive ethnic identity, among immigrant adolescents who are developing an understanding of themselves and their relationships with others (Suárez-Orozco et al., 2008). Language, as a discursive form of culture, is an important vehicle for communicating cultural symbols, meanings, and ethnic identity. While language is an understudied topic in ASP settings, educational scholars posit that when immigrant culture and language are treated as assets rather than deficits, this can be important for the socio-emotional development of immigrant youth (Castro, Páez, Dickinson, & Frede, 2011; Goldenberg, 2013). Research has documented that dual-language and bilingual programs typically incorporate native-language use as well as cultural heritage, which promotes stronger identities for ELLs (see García, 2009). Such programs also bring together majority- and minority-language speakers in a productive setting and can improve cross-cultural and integrative language attitudes (Genesee & Gándara, 1999; Lindholm-Leary, 2005).
Yet schools vary a great deal with regard to language programming (Christian, Howard, & Loeb, 2000; Morales & Aldana, 2010). Researchers have noted that only about 11% of ELL students in the United States receive instruction from a bilingual teacher (Gándara & Hopkins, 2010). Bilingual teachers tend to be fluent in one or two non-English languages, such as Spanish or French, while many ELL students are native speakers in other languages (Gándara & Rumberger, 2009). Public schools also face growing accountability pressures and restrictive policies with regard to immigrants, which can limit the implementation of language programming (Gándara & Hopkins, 2010). Although bilingual and dual-language programs have become more prominent in public schools, English-immersion programming, especially for adolescent and older youth, is still common (Christian et al., 2000). In light of these issues, we must consider the role of ASPs in addressing language and bilingualism for immigrant youth.
Challenges and Considerations in Programs Serving Immigrant Youth
With social justice goals in mind, community ASPs have programmatic flexibility to cater to specific racial/ethnic groups (Baldridge et al., 2011). For instance, in a study of a Chinese youth program, Wong (2010) observed that low-income Chinese youth interacted with adult Chinese community members and constantly heard, saw, and spoke Cantonese while also discussing topics related to racial/ethnic identity—all part of what Wong identified as “culturally relevant pedagogy.” Such programming helped immigrant youth develop critical views of inequality and take pride in their racial, ethnic, and cultural identities. Consistent with other studies, this research suggests that when staff and youth share similar language and cultural backgrounds, this can facilitate a sense of trust and empowerment among youth (Lee & Hawkins, 2008; Zhou & Kim, 2006).
While community ASPs have the potential to be important sites for “culturally relevant” programming, it is difficult to know if and how such programming can apply to diverse spaces where staff and youth do not necessarily share the same racial/ethnic backgrounds. We lack further understanding of how ASPs develop trust and empowerment among diverse immigrant youth and how language practices and programming facilitate or constrain these processes. We also know little about how ASP practices can enhance or alleviate social divisions among different immigrant and minority groups (see, however, Watkins, Larson, & Sullivan, 2007).
Due to programmatic flexibility, ASPs may offer additional time for ELL and immigrant youth to express themselves in their native languages and learn English, opportunities that are often missing in public schools (Maxwell-Jolly, 2011). Diversi and Mecham (2005) found that discussions about biculturalism and ethnic identities in a youth program helped to facilitate trust across Latina/o ELL youth paired with predominantly White college mentors. These discussions occurred in both Spanish and English as part of a well-articulated mission to create “an empowering relationship” with Latina/o youth and to focus on the positive aspects of their racial/ethnic identities. This research demonstrates how culturally relevant programming requires thoughtful, well-aligned strategies, adequate resources, and staff training. However, other research shows that ASPs often lack adequate language and cultural components, which can restrict the potential of ASPs to adequately serve immigrant youth (Bhattacharya & Quiroga, 2011; London et al., 2011).
As “one-stop-centers,” urban community ASPs must manage multiple goals and responsibilities while serving youth with diverse situations, needs, and backgrounds. Community ASPs act as spaces for art, play, health, civic engagement, and neighborhood safety; they also provide mentoring, case management, substance abuse support, employment opportunities, and academic tutoring. In a high-stakes accountability and competitive funding environment, academic programming is often prioritized by funders, which can place pressures on ASP workers to de-emphasize the cultural aspects of youth development and instead focus on tutoring and test-preparation (Baldridge, 2014). Furthermore, in the current colorblind" era, where schools minimize the structured nature of racial and ethnic inequalities, youth workers often lack support for programming that highlights the unique identities and needs of immigrants and minorities (Ochoa, 2013). “Colorblind” practices can reinforce the cultural values, desires, and position of the dominant group, despite the best intentions of educators to serve minority youth (Lewis & Diamond, 2015).
Larson and Walker (2010) also demonstrated how the confluence of organizational constraints and the varied needs among diverse youth populations come together as everyday “dilemmas of practice” in youth programs. ASP workers confront competing goals and multiple challenges that require balancing different possible responses and actions. Larson and Walker suggest that ASP workers regularly discuss these dilemmas, rather than dismissing or overlooking them. Our study analyzes the different ways in which ASPs create practices and programming to manage language diversity while working toward competing goals, which include empowering and serving the unique identities and attributes of immigrant youth while achieving measurable academic outcomes across all youth, regardless of race/ethnicity, language, or other social statuses.
Four Immigrant-Serving Programs
As part of a larger project, we chose to study four ASPs from our own database of youth programs serving immigrant youth in San Francisco. We interviewed program directors across the city and selected two programs with ethnic-specific names and two without ethnic-specific names in ethnically diverse neighborhoods near the financial center. We later found that all four programs served youth from different ethnic backgrounds (see Table 1). Youth participants often came from nearby or adjacent low-income apartment complexes. The programs shared similar missions to empower and support the unique social and cultural identities of low-income urban youth, ranging in age from 6 to 18. These programs also worked to facilitate healthy youth development, strong social relationships, access to safety and health support, and academic success by providing a range of programming, including homework tutoring, art workshops, health programs, cultural events, case management, and vocational programs. On average, roughly six staff members served 25 to 60 first- and second-generation immigrant youth who came from different racial/ethnic backgrounds, including African American, Brazilian, Cambodian, Chinese, Filipino, Laotian, Mexican, Thai, and Vietnamese, in a given day (see Table 1).2
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Table 1. Characteristics of the Four After-School Programs.
A majority of youth at the four ASPs were 1.5-generation (those who migrated to the United States as young children) or 2nd-generation immigrants (those born in the United States with at least one immigrant parent). Across the four programs, 10% to 25% of youth participants were not proficient in English; remaining youth were bilingual while a small percentage was English monolingual (based on staff estimates)—these youth represented at least four different languages. While the programs all served diverse populations because of funding mandates, one racial group dominated each program. Latina/os represented 75% of all youth at Youth After-School Program (YAP),3 and Asians represented 60% or more at Filipino Center (FC), Southeast Asian Center (SAC), and Neighborhood Youth Center (NYC; see Table 1). There were few to no Black or White youth in these programs, with the exception of SAC and YAP, where there were about 10% of Black youth participants, respectively.
Most workers were 1.5 or 2nd-generation immigrants and Asian American. They reflected the racial/ethnic majority of youth participants except at YAP where Latina/os represented a new, growing population. While few to none of the volunteers were bilingual, each organization had at least one (sometimes only one or two) staff who spoke a non-English language and could provide language translation, which we discuss in more detail in the following sections (see Table 1).
Interviews and Fieldwork With ASP Workers
We engaged in ethnographic fieldwork to broadly understand how ASPs dealt with diversity and used triangulated data: program materials, in-depth interviews with staff and directors, and participant observations of ASPs while volunteering. The interviews provided us with insights about how staff and directors understood the funding environment, increasing diversity among youth participants, and their roles and missions in serving diverse youth, while the observations allowed us to examine ASP practices and programming.
Specifically, we conducted semi-structured, in-depth interviews with staff (9) and program directors (5) across the four programs, often interviewing each more than once, which allowed us to ask additional questions as themes emerged. We also interviewed an additional 26 program directors at other organizations, some of whom worked at local funding agencies for youth programs, and we use those interviews as supplementary data. From the four programs, those interviewed identified as Asian American (specifically, Filipino, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Laotian), White, or Latino/Hispanic. They were diverse in terms of experience and age; many were in their early to mid-20s. While some of the staff members were new to their organization, all of the interviewed directors had worked at their programs for more than 5 years and had deep knowledge of the communities and program histories.
During interviews, we asked about missions and goals, programming involving language and cultural components, youth demographics and non-English language capacities, how staff dealt with growing diversity among youth participants and addressed language issues in general, the role of co-ethnic staff, and how their programs compared with other local ASPs. All interviews lasted from 1 to 2 hours and were audio-recorded and later transcribed.
To further understand how the ASPs worked in practice, we conducted observations at each program site. All of the authors gained access to ASPs by volunteering in at least one of the four ASPs over a period of 3 to 4 months. We spent time working with youth during academic and homework time, which allowed us to interact with youth and observe peer-to-peer and youth-staff interactions. We also attended meetings, workshops, events, and other programming to understand how different ASPs addressed the diversity needs of youth in different formats, and how culture and language were integrated throughout programs. Each of us took copious fieldnotes, documenting youth and staff ethnic backgrounds; language use and communication; types of programming; incorporation of issues related to race, ethnicity, and national origin; and topics of conversations.
All three authors identify as Asian American and have limited non-English language capacity.4 The first author engaged in participant observation at SAC and is a mixed racial/ethnic Filipina and Japanese American. The second author, who engaged in participant observation at YAP, is of Japanese descent. Finally, the third author, who engaged in participant observation at FC and NYC, is mixed-race White and Chinese. We note that our Asian American backgrounds and English language capacities mirrored most of the staff and volunteers (see Table 1).
Data Analysis
The goal of the data analysis was to understand how ASP leaders and staff approached and understood diversity in their programs, and what these practices looked like on the ground. Although the larger project had a broader focus on ethnic and cultural programming, language emerged as a salient theme during our initial stages of data collection and analysis. As a discursive aspect of culture, we took note of the use of non-English languages by staff and youth in both oral and written forms (i.e., homework, program materials, posters, and artifacts). We had program materials translated by research assistants when needed, including online materials such as non-English social media postings. Overall, our data represent how workers discussed the importance of ethnic language and culture, and enacted practices to address those issues.
Inductive reflections and analysis began in the field and continued outside of our fieldwork. We engaged in initial open coding of interview transcripts and fieldnotes using Dedoose, an online mixed-method data analysis program. While each author read through all transcripts and fieldnotes, we divided initial coding into thirds (i.e., each author open-coded one third of the fieldnotes and transcripts). Initial codes were broad categories for any instances when representations of race/ethnicity, non-English languages (verbal and written), or immigrant culture (practices, symbols, and references pertaining to any country of origin outside the United States) were present. For example, we coded fieldnotes and interviews for youth-youth and youth-staff interactions in English and non-English languages, which provided a basis for comparing interactions depending on the language policy of the ASP (English only or no formal policy), actors involved, and languages involved. Although codes were applied equally to interview transcripts and fieldnotes, it is worth noting that our fieldnotes yielded more thematic data about ASP practices, while interviews yielded more thematic data about the values and meanings behind ASP practices.
Initial open coding allowed us to find broad patterns in our data, but our primary analytic strategy involved writing and refining memos during and after coding as data were sorted based on emerging themes and patterns (Charmaz, 2006). We reviewed each other’s coding and memos and noted any discrepancies in interpretation to further refine emergent themes and patterns. We met continually to discuss differences and similarities in our interpretations through four stages of analysis: open coding and initial memo writing, revisiting data to refine coding focus, refining analytic memos, and finalizing memos to be incorporated into this article. Notes were logged throughout these discussions so that the authors could maintain clear communication about past, present, and future directions for writing and analysis.
Findings
Drawing upon interview and observational data in community-based ASPs serving diverse immigrants, we found that ASP workers recognized the value of culturally relevant programming related to language, but had uneven responses and practices when confronted with funding mandates and limited resources; ultimately, ASP workers encouraged English-dominant programming. Some ASP workers adopted English-only policies while others primarily used English in programming. At the same time, we found that the ASPs similarly incorporated discussions of culture, ethnicity, race, and other forms of identity using English as a lingua franca, or a bridge language for diverse staff and youth, to engage in conversations about immigrant identities and experiences. We expand on these findings in the following sections.
“They Need to Hold on to Their Roots”: Valuing Immigrant Languages and Bilingualism
Across the four programs, workers frequently referenced “culturally sensitive” or “culturally competent” programming, which involved curriculum, discussions, and services to empower and support underserved immigrant youth; to help youth strengthen their talents, skills, and relationships; and to address the lack of targeted programming for these populations in public schools. When describing their programs, workers were quick to highlight language translation services or discussions about identity and culture, which were understood to be distinctive features of their programs. In some form or other, directors and staff also mentioned how their missions and goals catered to the unique needs and identities of local immigrant youth. Lastly, workers often brought up the issue of language without any prompts, and mentioned the importance of bilingualism as both a practice and a symbol of the immigrant experience.
Sharon, the director of SAC, emphasized the provision of “culturally competent and relevant services” for immigrant youth when discussing the program’s mission. We asked her to elaborate on what that meant in practice, and she immediately talked about language:
When a client walks through a program, [we ask] are there people that, one, can maybe speak the language of that client, [and] two, if they don’t speak their language, can they still be able to provide services to them in a way that is sensitive to where they are coming from?
She went on, “There is no [other] organization that will have somebody who speaks Lao, who speaks Cambodian, who speaks Vietnamese” and that can act as a “bridge [to] the community needs.”
As another example, Nikolai, a staff member at YAP, described the program by focusing on its language and cultural diversity:
You learn a lot here and . . . working with so many kids from different cultures . . . It’s really amazing what’s possible. Many of our youth are learning different languages and they’re actually able to practice them.
While Nikolai mentioned that there is “always the language barrier” when working with diverse youth, he focused on how YAP offered a welcoming space for “all kinds of ethnicities” and how YAP staff had immigrant backgrounds themselves or were from the community.
Likewise, John, a 2nd-generation Filipino staff at the FC, noted that the FC was a unique space where staff encouraged the expression of immigrant language and culture, as well as multicultural values among youth participants. He explained,
One of the things we like to tell our students, is that, even if they are in America, they need to hold on to their roots . . . [It’s also] about having conversations with other kids about where they’re from, about their culture . . . if they need an interpreter, that’s one way to address that.
Similarly, Suong, a 2nd-generation Vietnamese staff member at SAC, said she continually told youth to maintain their native language and culture: “You stick with your Vietnamese, don’t be ashamed of it . . . Whatever you have at home, whatever you are learning, don’t abandon that.”
During interviews, ASP workers emphasized how their programs offered inclusive and culturally relevant services and acknowledged the importance of bilingualism and discussions to strengthen the unique identities and backgrounds of immigrants. Yet, as we detail next, there were also prevailing tensions, and even outright contradictions, between these abstract, inclusive beliefs about immigrant languages and diversity and the established, on-the-ground practices related to non-English languages. In the next few sections, we look closely at the challenges that immigrant-serving ASPs faced and examine the ways that ASPs adopted language programming in the face of such challenges.
Multiple Challenges and On-the-Ground Dilemmas
While bilingualism and diversity were valued at the abstract level, ASP workers were less clear about how to address language issues in practice, especially considering the diverse youth populations. When asked how they addressed language issues, workers brought up the realities of limited staff capacity, diverse populations, and the current funding environment, all of which acted as multiple concerns. However, workers did not further demonstrate strategies to deal with such issues. In doing so, workers appreciated bilingualism and inclusiveness while simultaneously (and often unconsciously) de-emphasizing their role in supporting bilingualism and bilingual spaces.
When we asked about language programming, workers uniformly mentioned the intention to hire bilingual volunteers and staff, yet this practice was not always realistic; workers stated that there were few to no bilingual volunteers and staff from which to choose. As noted above, each program had at least three different non-English languages represented among youth participants (see Table 1), while the majority of staff and volunteers were English monolingual or had limited proficiency in another language. Nikolai from YAP explained, “The challenge, where we have such a diverse membership from all kinds of ethnicities, [is] together you see there are different upbringings . . . The language issue is always present.” With few Spanish-speaking staff and only one that was semi-fluent in Cambodian, Nikolai said that staff had to rely on “kids [to] help us out” and to simply hope “it works out.” Similar to other workers, Nikolai seemed to be at a loss when considering language issues and staff capacity.
ASP workers also said that the lack of staff capacity meant that they could not always match the language and ethnic backgrounds of youth and staff. The following quote by Araceli, a FC staff member, exemplifies this point:
Our main issue is that . . . we are culturally just a Filipino center. [But,] we’re open to anybody coming. We have, I think we have five Vietnamese youth that come in, . . . right now we [also] have two Mexican American youth. We just try to stay open and make sure they have a safe and comfortable place to transition to.
Araceli did not further discuss accommodations or programming for Vietnamese and Mexican youth, and instead emphasized the original “cultural” focus on Filipino youth, which suggested that FC could not do more to address language and ethnic diversity. With limited staff capacity and resources, Araceli said that FC could only offer a place of refuge in the neighborhood for Vietnamese and Mexican populations. Indeed, while two staff were fluent in Tagalog, the rest of FC’s staff were English monolingual Filipino Americans and few volunteers spoke a non-English language.
Sharon at SAC also qualified her discussion about SAC’s culturally competent services by noting how their youth faced a number of other issues, including living in poor, over-crowded, and high-crime neighborhoods and dealing with violence, drugs, and trauma. SAC played many roles—providing a “safe place,” “a bridge” to schools, tutoring, and case management services, among other things—while confronting extreme cuts to programs and services. Sharon went on to say that bilingual or ELL programming was a future goal, but that the program currently lacked the capacity and resources. She was in the midst of focusing on high-school graduation and postsecondary programs, which had become a priority for funding reasons. Jasmine, another staff member at SAC, also acknowledged funding limitations, remarking that they were aware of the growing number of ELLs, but that “find[ing] someone to translate and find[ing] a way to fund the translation has been a huge challenge.”
Furthermore, both funders and program directors mentioned that “culturally specific” programming was no longer recognized as vital within the after-school sector. In previous years, funders had supported programming with group-specific components related to language and culture. Now, the improvement of academic achievement and other measurable outcomes related to graduation and college enrollment were main goals of funders. These shifting funding priorities and program goals, as well as increased competition in the field of public funding, added further constraints when considering language and other types of cultural programming. To these workers, funding pressures and program constraints made it difficult to concentrate on language programming. Some ASP workers focused almost exclusively on improving English literacy, grammar, and comprehension, as well as homework completion and college preparation. We discuss this in more detail next.
“While You’re Here, You Speak in English”: Formal English-Only Policies
As noted, leaders and staff at the four ASPs valued bilingualism but could not separate their discussions about language from the realities of new funding priorities, limited staff capacity and resources, and increasing language diversity. In response to these challenges, two programs—FC and NYC—implemented formal “English-only” policies that required youth to speak English during formal programming. Despite having missions and goals related to the empowerment and inclusion of immigrants, staff at FC and NYC reasoned that “English only,” or a monolingual English environment, helped them to better serve the academic and developmental needs of youth.
Jim, a director at NYC, explained that the board had recently decided to align with funders’ goals, which prioritized general academic and developmental outcomes, rather than language and culture. NYC had offered a multi-ethnic literature program and Chinese language classes in prior years with the help of community members, but with new funding mandates, these programs were eliminated. Jim explained, “I don’t think we would have gotten future city funding because, you know, you have to offer [language programming] to the wider community.” NYC did not have the resources to implement language programming for diverse youth populations, and academic programming became a higher priority. Jim went on,
We don’t have to be the “cultural hot spot” for everybody . . . I’m pretty firm about it, that we only speak English here. And the reason is because when they go home, they’re like bam! They’re in total Vietnamese, or total Spanish. Our job here is to act like a bridge from the school and to help them [with academics].
Staff at both FC and NYC mentioned how their respective programs were necessary for immigrant youth to receive one-on-one support with English writing, grammar, and vocabulary skills through English immersion—support that youth typically would not receive in crowded, urban public schools. FC staff similarly reasoned that immigrant youth primarily spoke non-English languages at home and were not directed to learn English. Arnold, the FC director and a Filipino immigrant, explained, “We don’t have them speak Filipino here . . . Of course, they are bilingual, but I tell them ‘While you’re here, you speak in English.’” Arnold made the assumption that all youth at FC were “bilingual,” or conversationally fluent in English, and he went on to say that, as youth participants had a difficult time with English writing and grammar, English immersion was the best strategy to facilitate academic success.
At both FC and NYC, non-English languages were only allowed during the homework hour, when youth could ask a bilingual staff member or volunteer for help. At all other times—when youth were working individually on homework, playing during open play, participating in a lesson, or engaging in other structured activities—youth were required to speak English with other youth and staff. In fact, we regularly observed staff steering youth toward English-language use in both programs, exemplified through the following fieldnote:
While I’m helping the youth at my table, I overhear two girls behind me speaking to each other in Vietnamese. Andre [English monolingual staff member] hears them as well, and I hear Andre correct them—he simply reminds them that they should be speaking English only, so that everyone else can understand them as well. (NYC Fieldnote, November 15, 2011)
While we found that there was some slippage in terms of the English-only policy, we noticed that adults rarely used non-English languages and that English dominated interactions with youth. “English only” was a formal policy and a routine, normalized practice in everyday programming. We can see this practice in a fieldnote from NYC:
About 15 youth are in the room: about two thirds are Asian and one third Latino . . . Jim asks [Raul and Jose] to be quiet because he remembers “having some trouble from that corner” before . . . As Jim asks the youth to be quiet, Raul [a bilingual Latino boy], perched on the back of the couch, turns to Jose, who is seated on the couch. Raul tells Jose something in Spanish that gets Jose to quiet down. Jim continues in English. (NYC Fieldnote, January 24, 2012)
Here, Jose, a Latino ELL, was talking loudly at the beginning of a group discussion and another Latino boy, Raul, intervened and directed Jose in Spanish. Jim, the NYC director, kept moving the discussion along without recognizing that some youth needed help understanding directives, let alone the content of the daily lesson. While Jim allowed the peer translation and did not admonish the use of Spanish, he did not acknowledge youth language needs and continued his discussion in English. This example demonstrates that while the English-only policy was not always enforced, ASP workers normalized “English only” in the presence of ELL youth.
In the two programs with English-only policies, staff expressed that English immersion was the best practice to support diverse immigrant youth. We rarely heard non-English languages other than when ELL youth needed direct translation during homework time. English dominated all types of programming, even though staff told us they valued bilingualism for immigrant youth. Although we did not interview youth on this issue, we observed that “English only” as both a formal policy and a routine practice could have negative consequences for the empowerment and inclusion of ELL youth. “English only” can serve as a symbol for English dominance and the higher status of English over other languages, even if not intended by the policy.
As an example, at NYC, the third author observed Daniela, an elementary-aged, ELL Latina girl, accidentally hit Raul, an older, bilingual Latino boy. Raul then used Daniela’s language status to insult her: “You don’t even know how to speak English!” While we rarely observed such direct stigmatization of ELLs, it is important to note that this only occurred at NYC, which had an English-only policy. In broader society, English proficiency is often equated with academic “success” and a higher status (Gándara & Hopkins, 2010). Despite the intention to help bilingual and ELL youth in their academics, “English only” may help to reinforce preexisting negative ideas about non-English languages and low-English proficiency.
Ad Hoc Language Services and ELLs
SAC and YAP did not have formal language policies and allowed the use of non-English languages; yet English dominated interactions during formal programming when adults led workshops, presentations, or discussions. Workers in these two programs did not directly or intentionally adhere to English-immersion practices, but they did little to integrate or address non-English languages outside of homework or case management services, which represented a portion of overall programming. We did hear youth use non-English languages during homework hours, tutoring, and side conversations, much more so than at FC and NYC; however, few adults spoke non-English languages. Moreover, each program offered limited language translation services even during homework time. While facing constrained resources and staff capacities, these two programs unintentionally preserved English as a primary or dominant language, even while expressing missions and goals to empower and support the identities of immigrants.
There were no bilingual programs or training initiatives for staff or volunteers at SAC and YAP. Without structured language programming, workers addressed non-English languages in an ad hoc manner using few available resources. Non-bilingual volunteers and workers had to refer ELL youth to a bilingual staff or simply use other means to converse with and assist ELL youth. Other times, when bilingual staff were not available, ELL youth were left to wait, figure things out on their own, or rely on other youth. This type of “ad hoc” or unstructured language translation became a habitual practice, helping to normalize English dominance.
When the first author volunteered at the SAC for homework tutoring, she frequently worked with Anh, a middle-school–aged ELL youth who recently migrated from Vietnam and came daily to obtain help with English homework. As the first author did not speak Vietnamese and was the only adult available to work with Anh, the first author used a hodgepodge of online dictionaries, drawings, and nonverbal expressions to assist Anh. The first author frequently sought help from bilingual staff to translate, but most of the time she waited with Anh for assistance. Over time, the first author could do nothing else but attempt to provide limited translation. The first author raised the issue with a bilingual staff member who could only assist for a small portion of the homework time. Eventually, the first author had to help other youth and leave Anh alone.
At both SAC and YAP, we observed that bilingual staff were often torn between multiple program duties, leaving ELL youth to wait for assistance or to work with other adults using English as a default language. As the majority of staff and volunteers spoke English, they encouraged youth to speak English, even if “English only” was not a formal policy. Moreover, without bilingual capacities, workers could not always intervene and monitor the needs of youth and, therefore, had to leave youth to themselves. In one example, noted below, the second author could not understand the entirety of the Spanish-speaking youth’s conversation, and no bilingual staff or volunteers were present that day:
When I was helping the first [Latina] girl . . . her friends kept coming over and speaking to her in Spanish . . . At one point, the girls were talking to each other in Spanish, and I kept asking them [in English] what was going on, what was being said. Sofia [Latina girl] told me [in English] that Emilia [Latina girl] was upset with Maria [Latina girl]. They continued to speak in Spanish with one another, and I continued to ask what they were saying. (YAP Fieldnote, January 30, 2012)
For the most part, ELL youth sat through lessons and workshops without translation help or were left to themselves. ELL youth who asked for translation had to wait to work with an available bilingual staff member. Alternatively, ELL youth looked to bilingual peers for translation, which meant that the majority of non-English interactions occurred between youth rather than between adults and youth. While bilingual or ELL youth often used native languages to converse with each other, as exemplified through the above YAP fieldnote, the ad hoc nature of language services and programming meant that ELL youth not only had to wait or help each other, but they also had less time and opportunities to interact with adults using native languages, possibly limiting the development of trust and comfort with adult workers.
We observed ad hoc language programming at all four ASPs, including the two programs with English-only policies. For example, in the following fieldnote at FC, Anthony, an ELL and Spanish-speaking youth, wanted to work with the third author because she had been helping his peers with homework at his assigned table:
Anthony [Latino, ELL boy] pokes me in my side again to see if I will help him with his next set of homework, which is Spanish grammar and reading. I tell him, “I’m sorry, you’d probably be able to teach me more than I could teach in that regard!” I ask him if Laila [a bilingual staff] could help him, she speaks Spanish doesn’t she? He shakes his head in earnest, but I know that I have seen Laila helping with Spanish before. (FC Fieldnote, November 10, 2010)
In this typical situation, Anthony, an ELL youth, was left to wait for Laila, a busy Spanish-speaking staff member. Because youth were expected to complete their homework during specified times, Anthony did not want to wait. As he waited, the English-speaking youth at the table finished their homework and then asked the third author to play outside—all while joking and interacting with the third author in English. Anthony lacked these same opportunities to routinely converse and establish connections with ASP workers.
In all four programs, ELL youth were not physically separated from English-speaking youth and staff; yet, the lack of language services and programming meant that ELL youth were often socially isolated from adults, especially considering that, across all four programs, English-speaking adults and youth regularly interacted with each other. While consistent exposure to English could facilitate language learning for ELLs, immigrant youth in these ASPs had little opportunities to use native languages with adults, and ELL youth were often on their own waiting to obtain support. While ASP workers acknowledged that they wanted to provide language services, there were few bilingual staff to address language issues and to closely interact with ELL youth. At times, this lack of language programming also meant that bilingual and ELL youth confided in each other and interacted without staff interventions or monitoring. Although staff had the intention of providing “culturally competent services,” English dominated programming and, for the most part, youth were left to manage language issues themselves.
English as a Lingua Franca: Interethnic Communication and Dialogue
With diverse youth and a lack of bilingual staff, all four ASPs struggled to integrate immigrant languages and serve the immediate translation needs of ELL youth. Although not always intentional, the ASPs supported English-dominant programming, which limited interactions between adults and ELL youth. At the same time, English served as a lingua franca, or a bridge language, that brought together diverse youth and staff in conversation about the urban immigrant experience and issues related to race/ethnicity, culture, and even language. ASP workers drew upon the experiences that youth and staff shared as neighborhood residents, immigrants, and/or racial minorities and worked to enhance awareness of identities and social locations represented in the local environment.
Virtually, all ASP leaders and staff had histories of living in urban, low-income neighborhoods or were racial/ethnic minorities, and some had grown up participating in the community ASPs in which they now worked. During interviews, workers frequently acknowledged the multiple hardships faced by local immigrant families such as poverty, exposure to violence, linguistic and cultural isolation, and limited access to mainstream institutions. ASP workers sought to validate and make sense of these challenges, and they drew upon their own personal experiences when doing so. Lyselle at SAC, for instance, had entered the United States from a war-torn Southeast Asian country with a family of refugees. Her experiences growing up with immigrant monolingual parents provided her with “an understanding of where the people [at SAC] come from.” While Lyselle acknowledged that SAC staff could not speak the languages of all youth participants, she said that SAC staff understood the circumstances of Southeast Asians and other immigrants. Meanwhile, teachers often lacked this understanding:
[They don’t] understand where I am coming from, you know? . . . That I live in a studio with five other people . . . If my parents had mental health issues because of the Khmer Rouge, the killing fields. You gotta know those things. You don’t have to be of that person’s ethnic group but you have to understand where they’re coming from . . . I think that’s what SAC is unique in understanding.
Lyselle distinguished SAC from public schools that did not address the experiences of urban Southeast Asian youth. SAC’s mission and goals involved empowering underserved urban youth and addressing their multiple social locations, and SAC integrated these goals in their programming through community leadership projects, group discussions, and video/art projects, where youth recognized the diverse experiences of immigrants and refugees. To Lyselle, language was just one of many issues that SAC addressed.
With a focus on empowering the identities of immigrant youth participants, English dominance helped staff to tackle difficult topics related to race, culture, immigrant status, and other types of difference. This was particularly the case for bilingual and English-speaking youth who could converse and understand English well. For instance, during a group discussion led by staff at NYC, youth participants discussed the movie West Side Story and the topics of gang violence, race, and immigration. Jim, the NYC director, connected the discussion to a previous workshop on American identity and asked, “Who is a real American?” One youth answered, “It means you only speak English.” Jim quickly explained that it is not the ability to speak English but rather the act of learning to speak English that makes one an American, and more importantly, that many Americans speak languages other than English. In this instance, Jim affirmed bilingualism and provided an opportunity to reflect on the shared challenges and experiences of diverse immigrants.
We also observed that ASPs routinely incorporated and recognized ethnic and cultural traditions in their programs, where youth were encouraged to learn about diverse traditions, explore their own identities, and appreciate those of others. For example, at the end of a SAC summer program, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Cambodian youth presented hand-made collages with images of their identified culture, including drawings and photos of ethnic food, dress, non-U.S. landscapes and flags, the U.S. flag, and other American icons. After the youth shared their cultural traditions, Asian, Latino, White, and Black youth and their parents participated in a cultural festival, which included food from diverse ethnic cultures.
In addition to addressing components of ethnic identity, ASPs also provided opportunities for interethnic communication, as staff incorporated projects and conversations that emphasized commonalities and shared experiences for youth. In all four programs, staff grouped diverse youth in smaller groups to work collectively on health presentations, art, or culture projects. With the help of staff, youth regularly engaged in cooperative activities and discussions about neighborhood topics like access to healthy foods and nutrition or substance abuse and safety—common issues that low-income, urban youth face. Especially in the programs without English-only policies, youth intermixed non-English words to describe various ethnic foods, eating habits, or drinks, using English as a bridge language to discuss these aspects of culture.
We also observed youth from different ethnic backgrounds engage in informal discussions with adults and peers related to shared experiences or different types of social locations, including immigrant status. In the following conversation observed at NYC, Vietnamese and Latina girls discussed hairstyles (in English) and then moved to the topic of immigration:
Carla [Latina girl] tells us she’s also had very short hair “when I crossed over.” I thought I misheard her, so I asked her, “Like, when you came here [to the U.S.]?” She nods and explains, “My hair was cut so short that I looked like a boy.” . . . She tells me that they cut it short so that it was harder to see while “crossing over”—long hair is easier to see. (NYC Fieldnotes, January 24, 2012)
The Vietnamese and Latina girls each shared stories and listened to each other about their previous hairstyles and family customs—all using the shared English language. The prevalence of discussions about identity in formal programming perhaps helped immigrant youth to feel comfortable talking about immigration and their unique experiences.
Regular discussions, workshops, and presentations about aspects of immigrant, racial/ethnic, and even language identities have the potential to facilitate trust and empowerment as English-fluent and bilingual youth were encouraged to interact and share their experiences and perspectives. Namely, discussions about topics related to neighborhood issues and identity across race, ethnicity, and other social boundaries allowed diverse youth and workers to interact and bond, which would have been difficult if youth were separated based on ethnicity or language capacities. Bilingual and English-speaking youth and staff were able to engage with difficult topics across racial, ethnic, and linguistic lines using English as a bridge across the diversity.
Discussion and Conclusion
Past work argues that community ASPs are important spaces to empower immigrant and racial/ethnic minority youth, yet we know little about how such programming is implemented in the face of increasing diversity. We find that in four diverse, immigrant-serving ASPs in San Francisco, ASP workers recognized the values of bilingualism and ethnic diversity, yet workers were faced with multiple challenges and constraints, making it difficult to implement structured language programming. One major dilemma involved the conflicting nature of funding pressures, which required ASPs to serve all youth and produce measurable academic outcomes—a difficult endeavor given that ASP missions and goals focused on empowering the unique racial/ethnic and cultural identities of youth.
In response to increasing diversity and funding pressures, two ASPs explicitly used English-only policies and English-immersion practices even while recognizing the importance of bilingualism for immigrant youth. In these ASPs, workers reasoned that “English only” would improve academic achievement across diverse youth. The other two ASPs allowed non-English languages, but there were few bilingual staff, and English dominated all aspects of programming. ELL youth could converse with peers in native languages, but ELL youth were often shuffled around, indirectly pushed to use English, or left on the sidelines by adults. ASP workers did little to integrate non-English languages, possibly hindering opportunities for ELL youth to build trust and rapport with adults—crucial for the development of social capital in educational settings. English dominance in ASPs potentially excluded ELL youth from mentoring opportunities and diminished the empowering ability of ASP workers. Given that adolescence is a critical period for social and cultural identity development (Steinberg & Morris, 2001; Suárez-Orozco et al., 2008), the symbolic dominance of English in ASPs may affect how ELL and bilingual youth learn to devalue native languages and negatively view these aspects of their identity.
To some extent, all four ASPs incorporated discussions of ethnicity, race, and other forms of identity using English as a lingua franca, or a bridge language for diverse staff and youth to engage in conversations about immigrant identities and experiences. Thus, English-dominant programming revealed competing processes of inclusion and exclusion for youth participants: The use of English allowed ASPs to foster communication and recognition with respect to immigrant experiences, yet it also affirmed the hegemonic nature of English found in schools and other mainstream U.S. institutions. Through discussions about racial/ethnic and immigrant identities, youth may learn to appreciate the experiences of others and develop bicultural awareness; however, this comes with the cost of reinforcing English-dominant practices and perhaps minimizes the potential of community ASPs to foster critical awareness and deep understandings of the language hierarchy in the United States. While we saw instances of “culturally relevant pedagogy” during discussions about race, ethnicity, and immigration, language remained a key issue, especially considering the growing presence of ELL youth in the local setting.
Our study is not without limitations. For instance, our focus on interview and observational data of ASP workers allowed us to gain insights into how staff understood language issues and addressed issues in practice, but we could only speculate as to how these practices affected youth participants. While we interviewed ASP workers about general programming, we mainly observed homework time as volunteer tutors, and we could have missed aspects of other programming. However, a key strength is our methodological approach—taking extensive fieldnotes in four different youth programs over time allowed us to move beyond what leaders and staff stated about “culturally competent” ideals to see how ASP contexts were characterized by English dominance rather than by bilingual programming and practices. While all three authors lacked bilingual fluency, our fieldnotes of nonverbal cues and instances of English versus non-English language usage were useful in analyzing the exclusion of ELL youth.
The dynamics that we detailed could vary in other geographic areas and political contexts. But because San Francisco offers a more inclusive policy environment than many other cities (de Graauw, 2014; Gast & Okamoto, 2016), we suspect that ASPs serving immigrant youth in other contexts will operate in similar ways, where English dominance is used as a practical solution to deal with diverse populations and funding pressures. In a “colorblind” and English-dominant society, it may be easy to encourage English rather than prioritize the language needs of ELL youth. Interestingly, although San Francisco offers a number of bilingual programs in the public school system, the ASPs in our study received little guidance for addressing language in programming and practice, and none of the ASPs employed enough bilingual staff to cater to all of their youth’s language backgrounds.
We urge funders and ASPs to seriously consider how programming and practices incorporate and represent immigrant languages and to provide spaces for native-language usage while also allowing for communication across different ethnic and language backgrounds. ASPs can offer targeted training and workshops to help staff and volunteers gain a better understanding of the complex ways that language plays out in their programs and to creatively incorporate native languages. Importantly, ASPs can draw upon youth knowledge and language proficiencies in developing peer-to-peer and group mentoring (see, for example, Deutsch, Reitz-Krueger, Henneberger, Futch Ehrlich, & Lawrence, 2016). Bilingual youth can also serve as key assets in ASPs, as they could direct discussions and projects, and engage peers. Clearly, additional resources to hire consistent bilingual (and even multilingual) staff are needed as well. Yet, simply hiring bilingual staff and recruiting bilingual volunteers and community members may not be enough to construct an adequate infrastructure to support bilingualism and biculturalism. To effectively leverage resources, school-ASP collaborations could be useful if both entities have shared goals, strategies, and practices to support the language and cultural needs of immigrant youth. Without reworking funding and institutional systems for language and cultural programming in city youth organizations, English dominance may continue as a normalized method of practice despite the culturally relevant goals of community ASPs.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was funded by the William T. Grant Foundation.
Notes
1.
Although the term immigrant youth can refer to children or adolescents, in this article, we focus on adolescent youth. This group encompasses those born in the United States and those born in another country with one or more foreign-born parents.
2.
We collected demographic information on youth participants and staff members from informal field or formal interviews with organizational leaders and staff.
3.
We use pseudonyms for all names of programs and individuals.
4.
One potential limitation of our study is that none of the authors were fully bilingual, and therefore were not privy to all of the non-English language conversations. The second and third authors could speak and understand limited Spanish and Cantonese, respectively. That said, we noted nonverbal cues and interventions by youth and staff, which allowed us to further understand how bilingual youth often acted as translators; how English language learner (ELL) youth often had to wait to work with a staff member who was bilingual; and how, for the most part, adults did little to direct non-English–language usage.
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Author Biographies
Melanie Jones Gast is an assistant professor in the Department of Sociology, University of Louisville, KY. Her overall research examines how schools and community programs structure support opportunities for racial/ethnic minority youth and families. Her other projects focus on information and resource gaps during the transition to college, disparities in college counseling, and the inclusion of immigrant youth and parents in urban community programs.
Dina G. Okamoto is professor of sociology and director of the Center for Research on Race and Ethnicity in Society (CRRES) at Indiana University. She is author of Redefining Race: Asian American Panethnicity and Shifting Ethnic Boundaries (Russell Sage Foundation, 2014). Her main interest lies in understanding immigrant incorporation and the ways in which racial boundaries change (or remain durable) in the 21st century. Her most recent project examines how diversity and demographic change shape intergroup relations in Atlanta and Philadelphia.
Valerie Feldman is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Sociology at University of California, Davis. She studies organizations, sexualities, culture, and politics.