Invisible

Reading "The Inner World of the Immigrant Child" was heartbreaking. Hearing stories of children rendered effectively invisible by their language barriers gave me a new appreciation for those in the school system who work both to cherish the languages and cultures from which these children emerge and also help them gain linguistic and social currency through English language acquisition. The article sparked an old question in me as well: how effective are we as educators at reading what is happening behind the calm face of a child?

I have heard it said over and over again: "children are so resilient." And that's true. Children are able to adapt much more readily than adults in many instances. But sometimes this seems to be a throwaway phrase, a justification for hardship we place upon children, a release from the hard work of understanding and assisting a child. I think about this when reading some of the voices of English-learning children. It would be easy to assume from their silence that they are processing, progressing, "making it" -- but I wonder what outlets, if any, we can provide for them to voice some of their anxiety, loneliness, confusion. How as a teacher do you provide a forum like that in your classroom?

The question goes beyond ELLs, of course. When I stand in a classroom, it is not hard to see many of these same emotions bubbling right under the surface of children who speak English, yet still lack the language necessary to share those emotions with others. Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson brush on this (specifically regarding boys) in their book Raising Cain. As writing teachers, we talk a lot about voice, and I wonder how to help students -- through writing or other forms of literacy -- put a voice to emotions that are almost by definition voiceless.