Spanish for Spanish-speakers
Chicago Tribune staff reporter
June 5, 2006
Latino students know their native language, but many never learned
basics like
grammar. Schools are offering classes to fill in the gap.
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0606050187jun05,1,3358396.story
By Ana Beatriz Cholo
When Vernon Hills High School freshman Ingrid Marin walked into a
Spanish III
class last fall, her peers were like, "What are you doing here?"

After all, Spanish is her native language, and she speaks flawlessly.
But
Spanish III has not been easy for Marin, and as the end of the school
year
approaches, she has given up on getting an easy A--or even a B or C.

Marin is like many others who grew up speaking another language at home
or in
their native country but never learned the basics of grammar.

As the U.S. Latino population booms, many are forgoing traditional
language
classes and enrolling in classes designed just for them--sometimes
called
"Heritage Spanish" or "Spanish for Native Speakers."

Dozens of high schools in Chicago, Round Lake, Highland Park, Glenview
and
Mundelein have been offering the classes for years, but more city and
suburban
schools are seeing the need to add them to the curriculum.

At the college level, the University of Illinois at Chicago has one of
the
largest and oldest programs in the area, and DePaul University and the
University of Chicago offer classes.

Most students take the classes for a language credit, others because
they want
to improve their Spanish, especially if they choose to enter the
business
world.

The trend gained strength in the southwestern United States in the 1970s
and has
spread across the nation with the Latino population. Still, despite the
increase
in the number of the classes, experts believe there are still not enough
to meet
the need--or even an awareness that they exist. The training necessary
for
teachers is also limited.

Heritage speakers are natural resources because of their language and
cultural
skills, yet they need specialized classes, said Kim Potowski, a
linguistics
professor at UIC.

"They never studied it formally and don't know the labels for things
like
`conjugate this -er verb in the first person singular of the
subjunctive,'" she
said.

"They actually carry out such tasks perfectly well as they speak.
However,
foreign-language classes place a premium on this kind of formal
knowledge of
language terminology, which heritage speakers usually do not have,"
Potowski
said.

Some native speakers, for example, are clueless about accents. They are
unaware
that misplacing them can change the meaning of a word.

Marin, 15, started the year in Spanish I. The teacher saw how easy it
was for
her and sent her to a more advanced class, which proved too hard. The
girl said
her peers have a hard time understanding her dilemma.

"[Other students] say, `You should know this,' [but] just because I am
Hispanic,
that doesn't mean that I know everything," she said.

After all, grammar and writing were not things she learned around the
dinner
table.

Even Marin's father couldn't understand why his daughter was not doing
well in
class, until he tried helping her with homework. A Mexican native who
moved to
the U.S. as a teenager, he had a hard time with some of the verb tenses
not
used in everyday speech.

After watching students like Marin struggle, Vernon Hills High School
language
coordinator Cheryl Steffens is working to bring the specialized classes
to the
school in fall 2007.

Students usually take a written or oral exam that determines which class
will
suit them best. The exam may be their first time writing or reading in
Spanish.

"I feel bad that they have been denied the opportunity during all of
their
schooling years," said Potowski, head of the native Spanish program at
UIC.

When teaching Spanish to native speakers, a one-size-fits-all approach
does not
work, linguists say. One class could have a student who came to the U.S.
as a
teenager, another who was born here and some who grew up hearing their
grandparents speak the language. In addition, the students often hail
from
diverse Latin American countries that share the language but not always
the
same words. This bond sometimes breeds camaraderie and makes it easy for
students to argue jokingly about who speaks "correct" Spanish.

For instance, the word "cake" can be bizcocho in Puerto Rico, pastel in
Mexico,
torta in Spain, ponque in Colombia, cake without pronouncing the "k" in
Cuba
and queque in Bolivia. Round Lake High School teacher Ken Knapp said
working in
such a diverse class is like being in a "one-room schoolhouse."

Unlike mainstream Spanish classes, the goal for teachers is to build on
the
knowledge students already have, not harp on minor errors.

Cesar Jimenez gets upset when his mother corrects him.

The Cicero resident grew up speaking Spanish, but in school and with
friends he
spoke mostly English. Now he's enrolled in a native speakers class at
UIC.

At the dinner table recently, Jimenez, his brother and cousin chatted in
English. His mother, who speaks only Spanish but understands English,
hovered
nearby. They tease her about her mispronunciation of English words, but
Jimenez
gets the brunt of the jokes.

He often makes up words.

On that night he grasped for the Spanish word that means "sticky."

"Pegasoso," he finally said.

Everyone laughed.

No, it's pegajoso.

In class, teachers discover students using "Spanglish."

Instead of correcting them, Potowski encourages the idea of Spanish as a
living
language. Those Spanglish words could be included someday in a Spanish
dictionary, she said. But if someone writes in an academic essay, "La
rufa esta
liqueando" ("the roof is leaking" in informal Spanish), she would
encourage them
to search for more formal alternatives.

Native speakers often are self-conscious about how they sound around
educated
fluent speakers. They do not realize how far ahead they are.

"The first thing they will say is, `I don't know how to speak Spanish,'"
said
Maria Carreira, a native Cuban who teaches at California State
University, Long
Beach.

"They carry all this baggage. But then I will ask them, `Have you
watched a
Spanish soap opera?' They will say, `Oh yeah.' Now, imagine how long it
would
take for an English speaker to get to that level."

For those who grew up in the United States, one's "Latino-ness" is often
tied to
language.

For Daniel de los Reyes of Chicago, Spanish is the language of his
parents, his
people and his culture. But when it comes to the grammar, de los Reyes,
23,
gives up in frustration.

Growing up, his grandmother spoke to him in Spanish, but English was his
dominant language. The worst part is when his cousins in Mexico tease
him and
call him a gringo or an Americano.

"I just want it to come naturally," de los Reyes said while sitting
outside
recently with classmates from a "Spanish for Students of Hispanic
Background"
class at UIC. "I won't even finish a sentence [in Spanish]. I will just
skip
over to English. I am Latino and I should be able to speak Spanish."

He pauses.

"I don't get it."