Category Archives: Uncategorized

Bilingual Instructional Strategies

Bilingual Instructional Strategies

There is some ground-breaking work to be done in the field of bilingual education. This work involves the development of instructional strategies that has the heritage language learner in mind. The following are a few terms (used by various researchers) who are starting to do work in naming and developing those strategies:

Cross-language Transfer

Translanguaging Pedagogy

Border-Crossing Pedagogy

Instructional Applied Linguistics

Hybrid Literacies

Multilingual Pedagogy

Multilitericies

Critical Additive/Bicultural Pedagogy

Flexible Bilingualism

Multilingual Pedagogic & Curriculum Research

Unfortunately, unless researchers from competing fields come together to develop these strategies we will continue to keep language minorities marginalized. In other words, the field of Second Language Acquisition, Bilingual Education, and (Socio)linguistics need to merge and get passed their paradigmatic tensions so that we can begin to create a pedagogy that benefits various models of bilingual education (e.g., dual language, transitional, ESL) where many of heritage language learners are placed to either learn another language or develop their native one.

Poetic nuances in our bilingual life…

Poetic nuances in our bilingual life…

its a smile
a caress
its the fluttering lashes on your smooth skin
its the the tone in your voice
its the way you dance
a smile, a kiss
its what we do everyday
play with arena
point to aviones
try out new words
its the look in your eyes
the tiza
the paint
el papel
all the new discoveries
that remind me
of the things I miss
because the details get smaller
as time passes
besos
mi’ja

 

A glimpse into my academic life…..

A glimpse into my academic life…..

This semester I am learning about language policy and discourse analysis. I am utterly reading pages and pages of material that are of utmost interest to me. I feel as if I have found my niche…or as I explained recently to a friend how my desire to become an anthropologist when I was a child is finally coming true. I am not becoming an anthropologist, but I am using research methods grounded in anthropology to study/research the way people use language. So below I offer a glimpse of how my thinking about language is evolving as I read pages and pages of salivating information about discourse analysis and language policy. Enjoy!

When speaking, researching, studying language-in-use it is impossible to leave out the political, economic, and social factors that influence language because language is a social construct. Yes, from a Chomskyan point of view all languages are inherently equal when it comes to structure and how they are acquired, BUT what is different is how the perception of each language is constructed as a result of political, economical, even religious factors SO how do we study or speak about language-in-use without considering our subjective views as they are influenced by our social, economical, and political ties. Is it in how we frame our research question and/or in how we analyze the data?

A window to my past…

A window to my past…

A few weekends ago my abuelita was in town. I hadn’t seen her in a long while because I have been overwhelmed with my studies and, quite frankly, it’s difficult to travel with my one year old daughter.

We spent the day together. We spent the day cooking, talking, and enjoying each others company…..well, actually, me regañó to the max degree! She scolded me, she nagged me about how undomesticated I am and how little I value the extended family I have in my life, and then she broke out into tears….se le salieron las lagrimas ;(

She reminded me that she grew up with no one. Literally. She was an orphan in Jalisco, Mexico about 60+ years ago. Her older sister went to look for her when she old enough and they lived together for many years. My abuelita reminded me that she had to teach herself everything she knows about life, which included what I lacked, cooking skills to start.

As I was washing dishes she reminded me that, though, I am too busy pursuing a doctoral degree, and she only reached a second grade education, that she is much more educated.

Let me pause…..

I know it seems that I am portraying my abuelita in a negative light, but what I am actually trying to show is a window to my past. Our day together was pleasant. The stories she shared with me and the thoughts about how I am living my life came out of concern and are rooted in the pain she has felt in hers. She was trying to pass down some consejos to me and that is something I can appreciate. The whole day I felt like she was trying to share as much as possible with me about what life has taught her, while at the same time, I know that part of her rambling is due to old age, but still. The woman had something to say.

This post is a perfect example as to why I want my bebita to learn Spanish. Many times when I try to share something, the words that most poignantly describe the thought, story, or sentiment of what I am trying to say are in Spanish.

That particular afternoon, with my Abuelita Cata, could not have been lived had I not known Spanish.

The Bilingual Connection in Texas(Tejas)

The Bilingual Connection in Texas(Tejas)

The other day I was speaking in Spanish, like I always do with my daughter, and in English, like I always do with my sister. Somewhere between talking to my sister about her studying for the GRE while at the same time chasing my baby girl around the room, I ended up blurting out to my sister, “Toma your pencil.” After I had grabbed it from my 17 month old as she attempted to put it in her mouth, which is nothing out of the ordinary. This is how she explores her world. Apparently, this is how my bilingual world connects, sometimes. They meet in the middle of a sentence. It should really be no surprise that so many people in Texas code-switch, blend Spanish and English, sometimes making a new word using the 2 languages.

This is the bilingual connection. This is Texas!

25 Years without my Father….

25 Years without my Father….

This coming year, 2012, marks the 25th year of my fathers passing. Interestingly, it is also the year I turn 36, the same age he was when he died.

I want to write a post that can highlight the difference his passing has made in my life. I was only 11 years old when he left. For many years I would view his passing as the time away he had spent from me, my two sisters and my mom. For the longest time I would count how many objects, whether they were tangible things or the people in our life, that were also around when he was alive. And although the things, and unfortunately, the people dwindled in numbers as the years past, his absence was never forgotten.

They say the way someone dies is a crucial factor in understanding the way people mourn a loss. They also say that the hardest losses to endure are those of first and foremost a child, then a parent, and lastly a spouse. Well, in my fathers case and because he was so young, we, as a family mourned heavily as he was a young father, son, and husband.

As the years pass, I think I will always feel like a part of me aches and like a part of me will always feel like I am missing something…someone. The times in my life that have been the hardest living without my father for so long have always been pivotal moments in my life, like: graduating from high school and college, getting married, and most recently having a baby.

During these past 25 years, he has missed a lot, a lot I think he would be proud of, but the truth is…he has still spent a lot of time away from us. About once a year I dream that he and I are sitting in front of each other. I am trying to catch him up on every little detail about my life and my sisters lives, and although it is nice to think that through dreams those who have passed away may be the way they communicate with those of us who are still living, the time we lost can be hard to compromise….

As I write and reread this post I realize that there is probably not enough space to describe how his absence has left a huge impression in my life, so I’ll stop here.

Identities aren’t static.

Identities aren’t static.

My mother is Mexican.
Her mother is Mexican.
Her father was Mexican.
My father was Mexican.
His father was Mexican.
His mother is Mexican.
My bisabuelos on both sides were Mexican.
Their parents were, as far as I know, Mexican.
Mexico is a five hour drive from where I live.
I grew up eating Mexican food.
I grew up hearing and speaking Mexican Spanish.
And even though it all happened on the other side of the border….I still very much identify with being Mexican no matter how you may choose to categorize me!
I am Mexican.
I am American.
I am Chicana.
I am Latina.
Sometimes I am Hispanic.
I am also pocha.
I am mexicana and proud.
These are some of the ways I self-identify.
Identities aren’t static.
They ebb and flow depending on where I stand and to whom I am speaking with.
So please, don’t give me a box to check. It’s not that simple.

Who makes it to the rooftop? A perspective of how social class and race play pivotal roles in shared experiences.

Who makes it to the rooftop? A perspective of how social class and race play pivotal roles in shared experiences.

As I was sipping my delicious peach cream martini from the rooftop of a prominent bar in Manhattan I glanced around and noticed that most people, lucky enough to enjoy this experience, were, or appeared to be, white. It’s truly a small percentage considering the hundreds of people that walk the streets of New York City, not to mention the amount of diversity amongst pedestrians!

There are obvious factors to take into account, such as the possibility that the faces making an appearance on the rooftop are mostly those of tourists, although I think I can still pose the same question.

This thought exactly is one of the reasons why I am pursuing a Ph.D in bilingual education. Analyzing how certain individuals make it, to say a rooftop to enjoy a view and cocktail, seems to have always permeated my mind to the point of frustration, making me wish I could see beyond the “benefits” of race and social class. In other words, sometimes I wish I knew less, questioned and analyzed less. Frankly put, sometimes I wish I could change the way I interpret life…sometimes ignorance is bliss.

It Takes a Whole Pueblo to Nurse a Baby!

It Takes a Whole Pueblo to Nurse a Baby!

Below is a link to my most recent posting with Mother’s Utopia! Saray, an Ecuadorian native, started the website and blog in order to support mother’s who wish to nurse their bebit@s.

What I love about her and the work she does, which includes providing doula services, is that she is also a voice for Latino community!

I hope that you take the time to explore her website and that you enjoy my personal account about nursing my baby girl. Just click on the link below:

It Takes a Whole Pueblo to Nurse a Baby!