Bilingual Ed is More Hetero than Bi: Bilingualism & Me Part 3

A friend of mine from high school commented on the previous installment of ' Bilingualism & Me' by lamenting: Countries all over the world teach their children a second language. In this country we do our best to take it away from kids whose native language is not English and then push it in high school to those kids who don't know a second language.....does it make any sense? This here post is my attempt to respond, because it does indeed make little sense. In brief, the sad fact is that our schools' and society's view on bilingualism has more to do with politics and prejudice than education or human rights.

Language, like the color of one's skin, is how we most easily identify and distinguish ourselves from 'the Other.' Three recent news items suggest language continues to hold symbolic importance for perceptions of national and cultural unity (I'm referring to the Taos hotelier, the cops in Dallas, and some [more] depressing facts about Latino kids in U.S. public schools). It's important to keep in mind that whenever we talk about meeting the social and/or educational needs of folks who speak a language other than English, we're also talking about immigration and immigrant rights. That said, a focus on bilingual education's history provides a good sense of the politically rocky landscape. In the context of public education, bilingual education has been a lightning rod issue from the very beginning.

Despite the passage of laws between 1954 and 1968 establishing the educational and cultural rights of minority groups in America, a big question remains unanswered all these years later: Is it possible to achieve the ideal of the Unum when significant parts of the Pluribus have the right to maintain their linguistic and cultural heritage? Any attempt to respond must be tempered by the consideration that the basis upon which the "melting pot" rests was set a long time ago. For so-called linguistic minorities in this and the previous century, replacing one's first language in the learning of English has seemed not only necessary, but an ideal worth pursuing if one is/was to share in what remains of the "American Dream." In the last forty years, this ideal has remained the de facto norm for English Language Learners in our nation's schools.

Sacrificing your first language skills may or may not necessarily be a bad thing, as many minority groups are strong advocates for their kids' learning English. Their children's academic achievement and access to mainstream classes is truly a worthy goal. Unfortunately, the goal often comes at a steep price: the loss of a linguistic resource that puts our citizenry at a distinct disadvantage compared to people in Europe, China, and a host of other countries with a bi- and/or trilingual population.

The problem begins with the general practice of bilingual education favoring one language over another. It's rooted in an ambiguous, and, at times, contradictory mix of Civil Rights era legislation, federal and state court decisions, and attendant policies. Here in California, for instance, voters approved Proposition 227 several years ago, which was supposed to ban bilingual education. The law (for CA governs by proposition) was pushed through by conservatives focused on mitigating immigrant's impact on public resources (See: current health care debates). Yet the fact that just over 26% of CA school kids are English Language Learners (ELL) meant that all sorts of loopholes cropped up to deal with the reality that serious attention and money must be paid to educate these students. So it's no surprise that much of the literature on bilingual education policy and programming notes that the field's subtractive framework is enabled by vaguely worded laws.

Broadly defined, subtractive bilingualism occurs whenever one language is lost as another is acquired. Additive bilingualism, on the other hand, occurs when two languages are equally valued while being learned simultaneously, thus improving the odds of dual maintenance. Unfortunately, additive bilingual school environments in the United States are as rare as they are difficult to maintain. Since our current economy ain't exactly the best one within which to implement or sustain such efforts, it falls on parents and the home environment to do what some say schools have no business doing. Same ol' same ol? No sé.

The key consequence of bilingual ed's subtractive environment is one that I personally experienced: the documented fact that linguistic minority kids come to view second language learning as an 'either/or' proposition, English or the home language, as the two cannot seemingly coexist or enrich each other. By extension those kids learn to perceive their first language and culture as mutually exclusive from American English and culture, and therefore, inferior. The 'upshot' is below-grade level performance, exceedingly high drop out rates, social, cultural, and familial alienation, and incomplete mastery of English and home language skills.

Proponents and opponents of bilingual education -- groups that include teachers, researchers, and parents -- generally agree on one point: Bilingual ed. as commonly practiced is largely ineffectual and is rarely a truly bilingual endeavor. Neither side is satisfied with the current status of so-called bilingual ed, as the most common programs perennially yield the lowest academic achievement rates. The current trend is to get kids into all-English classrooms as quickly as possible. My own mother agrees with the 'sink or swim' maxim, as do lots of folks from her generation.

In today's environment, where testing and accountability are king, more kids are sinking than swimming. Beyond the questions of fairness and civil rights, who bears the cost of the loss of all that human and cultural capital? Guess.

Jesus Vs. 'Hey Zeus': Bilingualism & Me, Part II

Back in 2002, I was part of an educational theater company running an Annenberg grant at a Bronx, NY high school. There was a kid in one of my classes whose first name was Jesus. I italicize in order to indicate Spanish pronunciation. As I wrote in my last post, my generation's naming convention typically leaned toward the anglicized (e.g., Alejandro to Alex, Guillermo to Willie, Jorge to George, etc.). So I used to get a big kick out of watching this kid insist that his teachers call him "Jesus." It was funny hearing teachers and police resource officers asking the Son of God to pull up his pants, quiet down, or sit up straight, etc. Of all the Spanish names, native English speakers in this country are loathe to anglicize Jesus. Such a discrepancy and its implications is what I'd like to address with this here posting.

Questions of identity and the role of language therein are muy importante to this Cuban Cowboy. The current public health care debate alone provides ample evidence that a question like "Who is a 'real' American?" matters as much today as it did a century ago. While we at least know a cowboy can be Cuban (heh heh), issues such as immigration and bilingual education remain as contentious as ever. Hell, even the way one pronounces a name can be a bellhop's nightmare -- carrying all sorts of baggage.

Growing up, "Español en la casa, inglés por la calle" (Spanish at home, English on the street [i.e., everywhere else]) was the rule at my house. My mom encouraged my sister and I to learn how to use English effectively. We were translators for our grandparents, and possessed mucho cultural capital around our Spanish-speaking household. When I learned the word "fuck" from a neighbor boy, I shouted it as often as possible for weeks, until my mother finally asked a co-worker what it meant. Even as I got slapped after saying it at dinner for the last time, my six year old mind recognized that knowing English was, if not magical, certainly advantageous.

When my teachers and neighborhood friends anglicized my name to 'George,' it made it easier for me to feel American --- something that my Cuban-exile parents wanted me to be proud of, what most of my classmates felt by birthright and never thought to think about or question. As I grew older, I spoke better English than I did Spanish. La calle, so to speak, had won out, coming into our casa in the Four Trojan Horses of the Linguistic Apocalypse: Gilligan's Island, A Family Affair, Scoobie Doo, and The Flintstones. Upon hearing my marginal Spanish, my grandfather would comment "Vas a perder tu idioma" ("You're going to lose your language."). He said these words with a mix of dismay and regret in his tone. Although I understood Spanish, my command of that language was never such that I could adequately defend myself from his prediction. Indeed, I didn't even want to. My English language dominance seemed to me a natural response to my environment. I was unaware that losing my Spanish and downplaying my Cuban cultural skills were hurting me in any way. Sadly, this lack of awareness is the norm for most so-called 'linguistic minority' children gong to school in America.

Thankfully, through music, I was able to regain my Spanish and then some. As a former classroom teacher and current consultant to 80 school districts (gotta have a day yob, yo), however, I only wish schools had given me the opportunity that music has.

Yo Quiero Taco Bell: Bilignualism & Me (Part 1)

Almost a decade ago, that little Taco Bell dog did more for foreign language education than hoards of schools were able to do for the hundred years prior. Suddenly, everyone was able to spout a structurally correct, declarative sentence in Spanish. Amazing. Leave it to pop culture, the power of catch phrases and a chihuahua to do for us what educators and, in many cases, even our parents can not: get us comfortable with a language other than English. This here is the first installation in the telling of my bilingual experience --- which also happens to be the Cuban Cowboy's origins.

I spoke only Spanish until I was five years old. Then I went to school. By the third grade, I spoke less and less Spanish. From what I could see, most of my Cuban-American companions underwent a similar experience. By 1976, we Cuban-Americans were rapidly growing in number throughout the Dade County, Florida school system. At school Guillermo became "Billy, " Alejandro became "Alex," and I became "George." In the middle of my third grade year, my mom moved the family to a new section of Hialeah. We were then the only Cubans on the block.

While the American boys in my neighborhood took a liking to my sister, I was not so well received. I heard the work "Spic" for the first time. My mother used to tell me: "Tell them you're as American as they are, that you were born in Florida which makes you a Florida cracker." Although I hadn't a clue as to what, exactly, a "Cracker" was (beyond the Saltine), I did as I was told and got my ass beat. Often.

I used to be able to walk home from school, but only did so after sundown. I would stop at the public library between Immaculate Conception School and my house (JFK on 49th Street, by Milander Park for any Hialeah homies reading this). I would stay there, reading like a fiend until I knew the Americanitos would be inside eating dinner (usually around 6 pm/sundown). Only then would I run home. I transferred to a new school a year later because my mom grew worried about me. My mom and grandmothers didn't like me coming home so late. Also, they felt I needed to be more exposed to Cuban culture, given the 'gringo' neighborhood we'd moved to.

The new school was formerly a highly regarded Catholic institution in Cuba. The school was transplanted to Miami, where its exiled administrators 're-opened' it. My mom felt I would benefit from being around more Cuban kids and teachers. The experience proved to be critical in my life. At the new school, classmates called me Gringo for being too Americanizado. I quickly learned that, in my appearance and use of English, I was "not Cuban enough." Meanwhile, in my neighborhood, I was called Spic for being "more Cuban" than American.

Similar to what my Cuban-exile parents' generation continued to face, the central issues in my life at that time dealt with divisions and distinctions. What was a "real" American? Was I American? Was I Cuban? Why did it feel like I could not be both? While I don't think I ever explicitly asked those questions, I know that I lived them. The Cuban Cowboy exists because I continue living them today.

Stopping the U.S -- Cuba Two-Step

Last week, the U.S. mission (i.e., embassy) in Havana turned off the "news" billboard it had running along the side of its building since 2000. The ticker-billboard would alternately run news of the world alongside anti-Castro/anti-communist party commentary (e.g., 'Why do party members drive around the island in fancy cars while everybody else can barely get fed?"). The decision to turn the billboard off has been generally seen as another proactive move by the Obama administration, in its attempts to bring about change in U.S.-Cuba relations.

The billboard was one of many moronic, largely symbolic gestures brought to us by George Bush. Perhaps Cheney and Rumsfeld just wanted to take more eyes off of what was (and is) going on in Guantanamo. I, for one, might have supported the billboard had our state department employed popular comics to write the postings. Although I'm not sure how well Chris Rock (or Dave Chappelle or Jon Stewart, et. al) would have translated, there is certainly enough irony and idiocy on both sides to make for good comedy.


As for the overall effect or impact of the billboard going dim: who knows? While I consider it a good move, there are lots of reasons to see Obama's nascent Cuba 'restart' (as in 'starting over'...similar to his recent overtures to Russia [Biden's recent gaffe excepted]) as just one step forward in his diplomatic two-step. It's the 'two-step' part that's most frustrating; particularly since expectations run high after a first step (the one-step) is taken.


This year's big One Step: Obama announces eased travel restrictions (for those with family in Cuba) along with new parameters for some commercial interests (telecommunications, mostly). Then, the Two-Step: Obama says the Embargo remains and we continue issuing challenges to Cuba's sovereignty by insisting on changes when we can't even take care of matters in our own house, so to speak.

While I am certainly a fan of Obama and appreciate the difficult position he's in, discrepancies between his campaign rhetoric and and in-office actions abound. For every 'Sotomayor nomination,' or 'make nice with Cuba moment,' the Obama administration seemingly has a two-step counter. Some go well beyond Cuba: the maintenance of Bush-implemented immigration policies., his continuation of Bush's policy's on wire tapping, the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" crap, highly biased-selective corporate bailouts (Geithner and Summers' backgrounds alone are quite suggestive), etc., etc. That the two-step's 'extensions' are a source of frustration for many is a fact not lost on Fox News bloviators, which helps no one except, maybe, Lou Dobbs.

All of that said, just as Cuba is afforded special status where immigration is concerned --- a Cuban only has to reach land or cross the Mexican or Canadian border to be well on his/her way toward citizenship...is it the same for a Mexican national crossing in to Calexico? Hell no! (see NYTimes article, above) --- Cuba merits a similar, unique consideration where our foreign policy's concerned; the kind of consideration musicologists and historians afford Cuban music.

Geographically and otherwise, Cuba presents our government with an immediate opportunity to right many wrongs and help at least two struggling economies. Let's momentarily set aside travel restrictions ('cuz, for some reason, our State Department sees no benefit in allowing direct travel to/from Cuba for musicians and U.S. citizens alike), the Gitmo morass, Helms-Burton legislation and the sheer waste of cultural capital. Let's instead consider a politically equitable, and beneficial step, one that both humanitarian, business groups and both of our political parties could support:

Opening trade between Havana and New Orleans.

As Ned Sublette and many others correctly note, allowing trade between New Orleans and Havana would both reaffirm a centuries-old, natural trading partnership, and help revive two areas in dire need of recovery. That baby-step alone would be better than the two-stepping we're currently having to sit through.

Why I Mail Out Free CDs

Why do I send out so much free music? With postage, not to mention production costs (everything from recording to buying blank CD-Rs, envelopes, and labels to the time it takes to write a lil note and autograph each one), "isn't too expensive?" is what I get asked the most. I respond with a "Yes and no." Before I go any further, allow me to say (if you haven't already heard) the music industry ain't what it used to be.

In the August 1st, Op-Ed section of the NYTimes, Charles Blow describes the music industry's deathwatch --- an 'event' whose pace has only accelerated over the last ten years. "The speed at which this industry is coming undone is utterly breathtaking." He goes on to describe a cultural shift where more and more people are streaming their music for free, via the Internet, and downloading single songs far more often than buying physical CDs. In fact, relatively speaking, no one's buying CD's these days...or much of any music for that matter. Why buy when you can stream? Blow calls it a move from "an acquisition model to an access model."

The reasons for plummeting CD sales are myriad. Suffice to say, they're down almost 40% from just two years ago...and dropping. Download revenue hasn't come close to replacing the lost revenue. Indeed, out of 13 million songs available for sale online, all the money came from 52,000 tunes. As Blow points out, "that's less than one percent of the songs." This fact, combined with some other factors (huge overhead, bloated exec. salaries, crappy music/lame acts, etc.), has meant that "major" labels are only major in terms of losses and debt. They're only after quick sales, and can offer nothing to new artists that do not fit the "Brittney" train wreck-ass-cookie cutter' mold.

So where does that leave an indie band like mine? With the task of building an audience, person by person.

My band recently played a music festival in northern California (Worldfest). We were fortunate to have performed for lots of rabid, wonderful music lovers. We played a morning set and another one in the afternoon. We sold out of CDs after the morning set. There were still a dozen folks standing in line, waiting to tell me how much they liked the band. I promised to mail them CDs. During the afternoon set (there were three times as many peeps there to see as there were in the morning), I announced the same thing that I told the people in line: just give me an email or a postal address and I'll send you free music. As of today, I have mailed 375 CDs to the festival goers.

Here's an email from one of them (sender's name omitted), affirming what the NYTimes' Op-Ed piece asserts:

***************************************
Jorge,

I've never met a musician willing to send free music because he sold out at a festival. Many other performers there also sold out much more quickly than they thought. Most of the attendees at the Cal World Fest were middle aged, which means that they probably mostly had money to spend and that they tend to be more interested in actual CDs than downloads, unlike younger people. I put myself in this category. Also, we tend to like to support the musicians. I live in a relatively large urban area (Sacramento), but have to go to places like Grass Valley to experience worthwhile music.

Thank you for your sincerity, honesty, and wonderful music. I hope you will be able to come to World Fest again, or at least come back to this region.
****************************************
I replied to the guy by thanking him and letting him know that I can not afford to lose him as a fan.

These days, a band like The Cuban Cowboys must to everything possible to get its music into as many hands, music devices, and hearts as it can. Sure, mailing free music to hundreds of people can get kinda expensive, but it would be far more costly to just let the music go unheard.

So send me a note with your mailing address, and I'll send you my music. It is, after all, about you, a listener, and your relationship with music and the folks who make it.

Mama Mia

My mother came into town this week. She's in from Whorelando (Orlando), a city where many Cubans move to when they tire of Miami. Happily, I was able to bring her to the post-production studio where the new music is being mixed. She got to meet my producer Greg Landau and his production company partner, John Greenham (John's mixing and mastering the album). My mom was very impressed that John had won two Grammys for his work with Los Tigres del Norte. In regards to meeting Greg, I sensed some trepidation on her part.

I had told her a bit about Greg's background: that his father, Saul Landau was the award-winning documentarian responsible for, among many other films, an infamous (to her & many other Cuban exiles) documentary entitled Fidel! (1969), that Saul and a young Greg had lived in Cuba while the film was being shot, that Greg had gone to school in Havana for two years, and even attended an 'Escuela de Campo,' that Greg and I started working together after bringing me in to write the theme song for his dad's latest film (about the 5 Cuban spies being held by the U.S. & the Cuban-American polemic in general), and that Greg and I shared similar views on Cuban-U.S. relations.

That my mom had known about my views (anti-Embargo, pro-Cuba, etc.) was one thing, but to watch her interact with a man who had actually been in Cuba after the revolution, known Castro personally, and had spent much more time on the island than she during the last 30 years; well, I was primed for some sort of Agosto Boal-esque theatrical moment, where the actor-audience dynamic is turned on its head. Would she go off? What would she say? Would she start in with talk of food rations, Che personally murdering hundreds, Castro's party members' wealth, etc., etc.? The possibilities kinda excited me, as, well, I do love me some drama!

As it happened, she did talk about such things -- except that she directed her comments to some other producer-guy who happened to be in the room, which was kinda weird, but, I suppose, understandable. Like all of us, I guess, she's gotta represent.

What made me most happy about the afternoon --- despite being denied the drama -- was how much she seemed to enjoy the new music. That she actually got to see it being refined, in a room filled with speakers, monitors, compressors, etc., was a bigger treat for me than it seemed to be for her. I am, after all, Cubano in that I will always be a 'mama's boy.' Also, for such a long time, her Cuba was my Cuba. As the years have to me to understand, however, that is no longer the case. While I am unsure just what my Cuba is these days, I am now quite certain that it is not the Cuba she left in 1961.

That I differ so radically from my mother's generation of Cubans in regard to my politics as well as my take on Cuban music seemed, for once, not to matter very much that afternoon in the studio. The music managed to bridge whatever rifts there were/are between us. This is how it should be.

Sylvio Rodriguez Dances a 90-mile Danzon

Earlier this week, a friend of mine who heads a Cuba-U.S. cultural exchange organization forwarded me a letter from one of Cuba's most beloved musicians-activists-poets, Sylvio Rodriguez (below, in blue). The occasion and incident mark but the latest in the U.S.' contradictory swing in its bassackward policy toward Cuba. Despite President Obama's latest overture easing travel restrictions and opening up some commercial-tel-com possibilities, our State Department acted as if nothing had changed. Our major, political parties' pandering to South Florida's Cuban exile community is nothing new. In that sense, bipartisanship has been evident for forty years or so.

I was raised in Hialeah, FL, the original epicenter of Cuban-American efforts to thwart Castro. My father captained a CIA-funded ship during the Bay of Pigs invasion. I grew up surrounded by a polemic that persists to this day (See some recent Raul Castro action in Granma). Like lots of folks here and there, Cuban, Cuban-American, or otherwise, I'm tired of it. Poverty, hunger, and oppression -- political and cultural --- are the only fruits of the U.S. embargo AND portions of Cuba's official response to it. I'm not anti-Castro or anti-U.S. herein. I'm pro-Cuba, pro-people, pro-human rights and all for an end to the embargo along with the polemic in general.

To that and more, Sylvio Rodriguez wrote a letter. To you, I've written a song. It's called "Danzon de Noventa Millas" (The Ninety Mile Danzon). You'll be able to hear it next week. One of its verses goes:

En la Cuba como en la Souwesera, el compromiso de los bailadores

es un espejo de los deseos, pa' los que bailan con lo que era

[In Cuba as in South West Miami, dancers' commitment (to their dance)

Is a mirror of desires for those who dance with what was]

The coro goes:

El mar que nos divide es un danzon de noventa millas

Donde uno nada mucho pa' morir en la orilla

[The sea that divides us is a ninety-mile danzon

Where one swims so much only to die on the shore]

May it soon change.

Here's Sylvio's letter:

05/03/09-Letter from Silvio Rodríguez to Pete Seeger/Carta de Silvio Rodríguez a Pete SeegerOriginal publicada en español en Cubadebate, más abajohttp://www.cubadebate.cu/index.php?tpl=design/opiniones.tpl.html&newsid_obj_id=14956

HavanaMay 3, 2009
Admired and loved maestro Pete Seeger:At this moment dozens of singers are celebrating the tribute concert you richly deserve. I am thinking of some of the occasions on which I had the privilege of enjoying your talent, capable of seducing large numbers of people. I remember you in Havana, singing in solidarity together with the Grupo de Experimentación Sonora; I remember that tour in various Italian cities, dedicated to Víctor Jara; and I relive that frozen February night in 1980 when, responding to your call, we traveled from New York to Poughkeepsie and heard you sing "Snow, Snow", the masterwork of a man who asked questions of a winter landscape.

I tried to return to be with you today, but, as you well know, it was made impossible by those who do not want the United States and Cuba to come together, sing together, talk together, understand each other. The ones who think the world is divided into the powerful and the weak; who only appreciate those who are rich and strong. The ones who will not forgive that although we are small we have decided to live standing tall. Reality cries that these brutes are becoming ever fewer in number, but somehow this minority still rules and commands. Some of them thought it dangerous that we might see each other, and that a simple act of brotherhood might symbolize two neighboring peoples coinciding in songs and affection.But not only I, dear Pete: all my dignified and certainly improvable country respects you and celebrates your nine honorable decades defending social justice, peace, and culture. Here no one sees you as a threat but as an extraordinary friend whom we are prevented from embracing with the freedom that we would desire. Not only I, but all of Cuba, embargoed as we still are by the abusers, loves you, and we are at your side now singing your prophetic We Shall Overcome and our Martí's Guantanamera.

A kiss to Toshi and a strong embrace for you from


Silvio Rodríguez Domínguez