As an educator and a linguist, I’m no stranger to the power of words and the hidden social and political dynamics encoded in language use. In my recent work with both preservice teachers (at the university level) and in-service teachers (working in public schools), I’ve been doing a lot of listening as they talk to me about their experiences with ELLs, and what can be done to grow more effective in their practices.
While the overwhelming majority of teachers have their multilingual students’ best interests at heart, I still notice many instances of deficit discourse—expressions or terms that focus on the resources or skills that ELLs lack, rather than bring, to school. Phrases such as “language barrier” or “achievement gap” imply physical obstacles between students and teachers or students and their peers that exist because of language. Other phrases, such as “limited proficiency,” “no skills,” or “no prior knowledge” allude to the idea that if a student doesn’t have proficiency in English, then he or she doesn’t have proficiency in anything else. Finally, the term “mainstream” can mask the process of assimilation, wherein ELLs are channeled into the dominant culture as soon as possible via public schools at the expense of their own cultural funds of knowledge.
Why does our choice of words matter?
First, labels and policies that orient ELLs as “problems” to be handled or dealt with can promote academic and social segregation among diverse learners (Shapiro, 2014). When ELLs spend most of their time in classes that focus on remediation rather than rich academic content, “linguistic isolation” occurs (Valdés, 2001). Two recent studies—one on elementary students and one on secondary students—found that, in addition to hurting ELLs’ academic progress, the stress caused by discrimination had serious effects on on ELLs’ mental health and personal development.
Second, when teachers talk about students who have “no skills” or “no language” or “no phonemic awareness,” they are presenting a rather absolute situation that seems insurmountable—very few educators are qualified to work with students who come to school with “no language” or “no skills,” and may be reluctant to do so. Luckily, there are even fewer, if any, children, who actually fit that description, but negative teacher discourse can promote the (inaccurate) idea that ELLs come to classrooms bereft of literacy, parent involvement, life skills, or background knowledge.
What can TESOL educators do to reduce deficit discourse?
One step in becoming an advocate for ELLs is to be mindful of the discourse that we use when talking to and about our students. Below is a list of deficit terms that I have heard, followed by a suggested substitute that promotes a more additive, or positive, perspective toward ELLs.
|Instead of this…||Try this…|
|“No language”||“emerging English” or “emerging bilingual”|
|“language barrier”||“language difference”|
|“limited English”||“learning English” or “developing English”|
|“no skills”||“new skills”|
|“achievement gap”||“test score difference”|
|“no phonemic awareness”||“different phonemic awareness”|
|“no prior knowledge”||“funds of knowledge”|
|“low proficiency”||“developing proficiency”|
|“mainstream classroom”||“grade-level classroom” or “content-area classroom”|
TESOL educators are often the greatest advocates for ELLs, and we can promote positive attitudes toward our students with the words that we ourselves use. Just as deficit terms have power, so do positive terms!
Are there other deficit terms that you have heard? Please share your suggestions for positive variations on those in the comments.
Shapiro, S. (2014). Words that you said got bigger: English language learners’ lived experiences of deficit discourse. Research in the Teaching of English, 48(4), 386–406.
Valdés, G. (2001). Learning and not learning English: Latino students in American schools. New York, NY: Teachers College Press.
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