Dual Immersion In Elementary Schools

The sun shone brightly, taking some of the sting from the chilly February morning as I made my way toward the main entrance of Foothill Elementary School in Brigham City, Utah. Erected in 1988, the building was typical of most Utah elementary schools built at that time. The single story brick edifice consisted of three wings or hallways of classrooms radiating out from a central space that served as the gym/cafeteria/stage. The flag was snapping smartly in the breeze as I passed the flagpole and entered the building.

Walking through the foyer toward the office, I was struck by the smell of the building and how it has remained largely unchanged through both space and time. All elementary schools seem to be permeated by the same complex aroma, a combination of scents ranging from the crisp, woody smell of pencil shavings, the sharp smell of paste, and the harsh smell of the industrial grade disinfectant used by the custodians. Continuing toward the office so that I could sign in as a visitor, the familiar elementary school sounds reached me from the classrooms along the hallways. I could hear the teachers with their well-practiced tones reciting the day’s lessons. There was a muffled, static-filled announcement over the intercom. I could hear the familiar humming from the cooling system in the drinking fountains and another humming from the fluorescent lights overhead. I heard the ragged, grating sound of pencils being sharpened. Above all these noises was the sound of children’s voices. I could hear the voices singing songs and repeating the recitations of their teachers. There were musical peals of laughter. Sometimes the voices got loud and out of control until the stronger voice of the teacher could be heard restoring order. Approaching the office, I also noted many familiar elementary school sights. There were student art projects hanging on the walls outside the classrooms. The hallways were lined with scores of pegs where students could hang their coats and backpacks during class. Beneath some of the coats, students had left pairs of boots. Looking up and down the hallways at all of the undersized coats and boots, it seemed as if there was an elf and hobbit convention meeting here.

As I approached the office, the student art gave way to postings of a more official nature. A large sign listed the names of all the teachers at Foothill Elementary School along with the grade level they taught, the room number of their classroom, and a photograph of the teacher. Among these was the picture of Miss Zong, the teacher of the second grade dual immersion Chinese class I was there to observe. Several posters encouraged students to drink milk, take a stand against bullying, prevent forest fires, read books, DARE to be drug free, and have Foothill Falcon pride. A lunch schedule proclaimed that the day’s entrée choices were chicken and rice bowls or corn dogs.

The school’s office was familiar as well. Behind the front desk sat a frazzled secretary trying to juggle three different phone conversations all while filing paperwork, entering data into the computer, and consoling a student who was apparently the victim of an over-aggressive dodge baller. He was sitting, holding an ice pack to his face and milking the sympathy for all it was worth. Behind the secretary’s desk, next to a door labeled “Principal” sat the alleged over-aggressive dodge baller who glanced sullenly around the room. I found the sign-in sheet and logged my name along with the date and time. The secretary directed me toward Miss Zong’s second grade classroom.

Miss Zong, or Miss Sabrina to her students, teaches Chinese to the second grade as part of the dual immersion education program at Foothill Elementary School. The program is in its third year at the school so along with Miss Sabrina, there are also Chinese teachers for first grade and third grade. After all of the familiar sights and sounds of the rest of the school, the Chinese classroom was almost shocking in its foreignness. Outside the classroom, the student art had none of the typical President’s Day themes. There were instead Chinese lanterns, representations of horses and goats and Chinese characters that I could not read. I entered the classroom and Miss Zong, who was addressing her students pointed to a chair set out for me at the back of the room. I sat and listened a moment to her speaking in Chinese to her students before I began to look around the room. As part of the dual immersion education program at the school, English is not allowed in the Chinese classroom. This includes not just spoken English, but written English as well. All around the room everything is written in Chinese and everything has a label to help students remember the Chinese words for common objects like desks, tables, books, lights, doors, and windows. The only exception to this rule are commercial labels on items like crayons and hand sanitizer. On the walls of the classroom were maps of China and posters featuring various Chinese landmarks. A Chinese flag hung next to the American Flag and Chinese lanterns dangled from the ceiling. The classroom featured large whiteboards on one wall and on another chalkboards served as a reminder of older days. Amazingly the chalkboards, on which good penmanship always seemed impossible, were crammed with beautifully precise Chinese characters. The desks in the classroom were arranged in a popular small group layout. In the center of the room was an open area and Miss Zong called the students to leave their desks and sit in this open area facing the whiteboards.

Using a ceiling-mounted projector, she displayed images accompanied by Chinese words that the students recited. As the instruction continued, I became a bit frustrated and anxious because I could not understand the words being spoken by Miss Zong or her students. Along with the standard direct address and lots of repetition by the students, Miss Zong incorporated different types of instruction to keep the students focused and interested. Some recitations required the students to stand up and perform accompanying actions. There were videos and songs that the students enjoyed. One portion of the instruction involved a role-playing activity centered around common phrases used during telephone conversations. A one point during my observations I realized that while I could not understand any of the words that were being spoken by Miss Zong or her students, there were aspects of the classroom and the relationship between teacher and student that transcended the language barrier and allowed me to understand what was happening if not what was being said.

The most common aspect of the teacher-student relationship that I saw translated into Chinese was the “overeager student” syndrome. Whenever Miss Zong would ask a question to which more than half of her students knew the answer, they would all shout out the answer at once wanting to be the first to be heard. Some students even jumped to their feet in an attempt to speed their answers to Miss Zong’s ears. With practiced patience, Miss Zong would quiet the students and remind them that they needed to raise their hands and wait to be called upon.

Another recurring scenario that played itself out several times that afternoon was the “objection, your honor! Leading the witness!” syndrome. At certain points in the lesson, Miss Zong would ask a question and none of the students would know the answer. After several seconds of awkward silence, Miss Zong would ask a series of simpler questions to which the students knew the answers, leading them back to the original question by which time they knew the answer. This “ah-ha” moment was followed by a rush of excited Chinese from the students.

In every classroom, no matter the language spoken there are certain types of students that are always present. Every classroom has to have its “teacher’s pets”. These students are always on the edges of their seats in rapt attention to the teacher. They seem to know the answers to all of the teacher’s questions and have an overpowering need for the teacher to hear those answers from them and them only. At the other end of the spectrum, there always seem to be a few “distracted students”. These students are easily spotted by the position of their desks, always at the periphery of the classroom. This strategic positioning helps reduce distractions not only for those individuals but for the rest of the students in the classroom as well. And finally, what classroom be it Chinese or English would be complete without a few “class clowns”? These students seem to be happiest when they are making their fellow classmates laugh. While they are usually just as bright as the “teacher’s pets”, they crave the attention of their peers more than that of the teacher.

When my observation time ended and I left Miss Zong’s Chinese classroom I hadn’t learned a single word of Chinese. While this frustrated me at first, I realized that all students are essentially the same no matter the language they happen to be speaking. I found that if I was observant there were things to be seen that transcended the language barrier. These were the important things, the true things. These things spoke of what it meant to be a student, a teacher. They spoke of the process of learning something new and using that knowledge to grow. That knowledge was worth all the language training I could have received.