Sudanese Experience of ESL in Canada: A Multiplicity of Voices

By Deepa Rajkumar
My paper is based on my research among people from Sudan in Calgary, Toronto and Ottawa. In this paper, I focus on their experience of the Canadian English as Second Language (ESL) policy. I argue that ESL requirements for Sudanese children and youth in Canada are policy practices that attempt to produce and reproduce the Sudanese as refugees and the Canadians as citizens; and that the incompleteness of this project is in large parts because of Sudanese knowledges, aspirations and strategies.

This paper is a part of my dissertation in which I seek to counter the dominant refugee discourse, and the dominant refugee identity, through Sudanese stories—of journeys and daily life. The dominant refugee discourse, a discourse of victimhood, denies the agency of refugees. It, as Nevzat Soguk1 elaborates, performatively produces and reproduces the passive refugee as an “object”—in daily life, research and policy. As opposed to the “normal” citizen, the “stateless” refugee is viewed as abnormal, as lacking “political” voice, and as a threat to the state, the nation and the citizen. This legitimizes the disciplining and controlling of refugees. There is, however, no “the refugee.” Refugee events and experiences are contingent, multiple and complex. It is the dominant refugee discourse that privileges the citizen, whose “rooted” identity is produced and reproduced by producing and reproducing, as one of its significant others, the “uprooted, dislocated, displaced, forced out or self-displaced” refugee2.

Within this discourse, the solution to the “abnormal” refugee condition is sought through efforts at re-territorialization, by repatriating or resettling refugees, to make them once again members of a national community in the national space3. These refugee “regimentations” are not neutral, but constitute, and are constituted by, the “ground rules” of theory and practice regarding human displacement—including in the fields of policy, such as national and international security, stability, democracy, human rights, humanitarianism, economic and social welfare etc. These ground rules determine how human displacement figures or does not figure in these areas4.

In this paper I look at one such regimenting policy, the ESL policy in Canada. My claims are informed by Sudanese stories. Following Donna Haraway, these are “claims on people’s lives”—views of bodies that are always “complex, contradictory, structuring and structured” and not “view[s] from above, from nowhere, from simplicity.”5 Sudanese knowledges based on “situations of tensions, resonances, transformations, resistances and complicity” resist the “politics of closure” of the dominant refugee discourse6. Such knowledges “objectify” the world and constitute the Sudanese themselves as agents in their capacity for knowledge production; the world becomes a matter of self-formation for the human knower in the production of knowledge7.

Ajak8, a social worker who came to Canada on a World University Service of Canada (WUSC) scholarship for refugees, has been asking herself why, unlike the Sudanese kids and youth she met elsewhere, especially in Kenya, the ones in Canada always say that after High School they will join a college and not a university, that they will take up a job or that they have dropped out. I gave her my analysis, as developed in this paper after having talked to many Sudanese children and youth—especially in Calgary, and also spoke about how I was unsure if I should be doing this kind of an analysis or just letting the stories speak for themselves in my dissertation. She said that having done my research, maybe I needed to bring all this together analytically. So, in this paper I will undertake an analysis while I hope that in my later writings the Sudanese stories will provide the analysis themselves.

I will now start with some of the stories.

Nyamal, 4, may end up in ESL classes, not this year in Kindergarten but next year, if she doesn’t pass the ESL test that she has to take before she joins Grade 1. Her father, Philip, was encouraged at her school to speak his own language with her at home, and not English—a suggestion that he appreciates.

Kulang, 7, is in Grade 2. Recently a supply teacher who was replacing his regular teacher insisted that he be put in ESL classes. His regular teacher is opposed to this but has been consulting his father, Beny, who says that he will not allow this. Kulang was rather agitated when he came to know that they were considering him for ESL classes. He knows that ESL is only for stupid kids.

Kong, 9, born in Canada, likes school, playing and summer camps. He says ESL classes in Grade 4, that he “joined on his own”, are fun—they go for many field trips, have easier things to do, and do not have boring teachers like in the regular classes. They are taken out of the regular Math class, for ESL classes, and given easier material to study for most subjects. In school he has some “racist” teachers, whom he ignores for most part—they never believe him when other white kids fight him, and once one of them held him so hard that it hurt but there was no one to complain to since nobody would believe him. He says “I think they think that we are stupid”.

Roda, 12, came from Egypt two years back, and has been in schools, for the first time, in Windsor and Calgary. She likes school, which is better than staying at home. She started Grade 4 in Canada. Her English is now so good that last year, in Grade 5, she continued attending ESL classes, not to learn English “but to assist the ESL teacher” and help other kids with sentences, grammar and vocabulary—all during the regular Math class.

Suzy, 14, is a good student. She hated school when she started Grade 5 in Calgary. Kids ignored her for being different, or were nasty to her. In a year, however, she became friends with most in her class. But she says there are still these racist kids, punks, whom she ignores. She was in ESL classes only for a couple of years. There she used to feel comfortable since everyone was like her—nobody made fun of her. But, she says most ESL students didn’t work hard, she did. She finds Sudanese kids to be annoying, they are always fighting and don’t care about school.

Jal, 17, feels too old. He has many things to deal with. He studied in Ethiopia till Grade 6, and in Calgary was put in Grade 9 with his age mates. He is away from them when he has ESL classes. He loves learning, but feels like dropping school which for him will be a real waste of time. In Grade 12, they won’t let him take Math 30, Science 30 and English 30; he is forced to do Math 10, Science 10 and English 10. He will finish High School without graduating. He thinks that people here want to keep him down, not let him do what he wants to and is capable of, make sure that he has no education, and then let him work as labour. In summer he does manual work for 10-12 hours per day. He instead wants to do research in the future but is nagged by the question how. He wants to fight, and isn’t sure how.

Marial, 20, just finished but not graduated High School. He joined Grade 5 in Calgary. He didn’t mind being in ESL classes, or in a grade that was not according to his previous level of education. He likes the fact that his classmates are his age and not elder, unlike the ones in the camp who were always disciplining the younger kids in the class. What worries him now is how to make money for the Adult High School. In Grade 12, he and other ESL students were given carpentry classes to help find a summer job. This is his job for now.

Agar, 20, studied in Nairobi, in English. In Vancouver she joined Grade 10 and ESL classes. Now she finished High School, but has to go to Adult High School to graduate. While in school she worked part-time to pay back her airfare to Canada to her relative with whom she came, even though she didn’t have to. This summer she’s working in a meat factory in Brooks, to make money to pay for her upgrading. She is good at school and is determined to study further to become a nurse; a doctor is what she really wants to be but it’s not what her councilor thinks possible. And then she wants to go to Sudan to help.

Peter, 19, is angry and disappointed. He finished Grade 12 in Kenya at a camp. He joined government funded adult ESL classes in a college in Calgary. He didn’t like it since he would rather study with people his own age. This year, his counselor told him to upgrade, from Grade 9. His question is why. Why should he do what he has already done, and waste two to three years? He says he would rather go back to Kenya than let these people hold him back. He wants to be a doctor—this is what he came to Canada for, but his counselor is encouraging him to be a nurse. She told him that if he does well in school his 2 year funding for upgrading will be extended for a third year, when he could take the required course to get into nursing. For him, it is a matter of money, loans etc.—a question of how to fund his post-secondary studies. He doesn’t sleep, especially the nights when he has met his counselor.

Michael, 21, is doing an Engineering diploma. He finished his High School in Kenya. In Winnipeg he easily passed the English tests, and then had to wait since the counselors didn’t know what to do with him. He moved to Calgary a few months later looking for better educational opportunities, and the same thing happened. Then he decided to go straight to a technical college to find his way around the system that greets refugees when they get to Canada—through counselors who are meant to help, and show them ways to get on with living in Canada.

Ayak, 21, is in University. After finishing Grade 6 in Egypt, she joined Grade 7 in London and had to take ESL classes. A good student, she was soon in regular classes for all subjects except English. She has always been a quite student but says that most ESL students are troubled and create trouble, mainly because teachers treat them as though they are in kindergarten: “Donny! This is not how we do things in Canada.” In Grade 10, in Toronto, when she realized that she wouldn’t be able to join University immediately after finishing High School, because she would have to take extra English courses, she decided to confront her ESL teacher, counselor and school to let her into regular English classes. She argued that she was doing well in all the subjects—all being taught in English—, and in French, and that the way to write good English is to do it and not to be stuck in ESL classes where English was taught without a real life and/or academic context and without an emphasis on writing. The school refused; she said she would drop out; the school called her mother who told them that her daughter knew what she was doing; the school relented; and now she is in University and not college.

In Calgary that has the largest Sudanese population in Canada, Lual, an ESL support worker at the Catholic School Board, was troubled that the Sudanese children were being labeled as problem kids. Most of these children and youth came to Canada thinking they will go to school and enjoy themselves. In Canada when they play with their peers, in a rough manner, the way they knew was friendly in Sudan, and other Sudanese settings, this behaviour is misunderstood. The children also face ridicule—for how they talk, act and dress; for being in ESL classes; and for having simpler lessons in other subjects. And when they act out, the blame is laid on them, their families and/or on their previous experiences of war and displacement. The school generally does not own much responsibility or see how it is a part of the problem, especially through its ESL program. The schools sometimes blame the government for not changing ESL policies and for cutting funds for ESL, after-school and summer programs.

When ESL, mainly Sudanese, Catholic High School students were asked, by Lual and James, to speak, their angry responses ranged from getting rid of ESL altogether, to needing it but not for the rest of their stay in school—that is to make it suited to their needs, and in a way that lets them be at the same level with others and not in a way that hinders their progress. And like Julia says, it is not easy to find solutions. Many need extra training in English and other subjects. But for this should children be put in separate classes or should they be in the same class with others of their age? Should they have extra classes, and then why only in English, what about the other subjects?

So, based on these and other stories, I was telling Ajak about how the schools, especially through their ESL classes, manage to set many immigrant children and youth on paths that lead them to dropping out and/or entering low paying jobs or towards colleges—catering to Canada’s labour needs. Sudanese children, like other refugee children, including those who are born in Canada, those who arrive before the ages of 3 or 4 and start Kindergarten in Canada, those who had been in schools before and continue where they left in Canada, those who have had some schooling earlier but are put in Grades in Canada according to their ages and not levels of education, and those who have had no or minimal education and are put in Grades in Canada according to their ages, are often put in ESL classes in schools, Adult High Schools or colleges. It many a times does not matter if the students had been instructed in English in their previous schools or not; they are given an ESL test, which is not explained to them and for which they are not prepared, and based on the scores they are put in ESL classes. This could mean, depending on the province and/or the school, learning only special English or having ESL for all subjects and for the ESL teachers to be present in the regular classes or in separate rooms where the students would then have to move to—usually during regular classes.

While the ESL classes are meant to help students improve their English, they are based on the assumption that all peoples who come from places where English is not their first language will potentially have problems with the language. And this potential problem with English is assumed to translate into problems in understanding all other subjects, and into a general inability to lead normal lives in Canada i.e. an inability to be Canadian. What follows then, is the emphasis in Canada for all immigrants to first learn English, before anything else can follow. Further, there is also the assumption that however proficient someone is or becomes in English, if it is her or his second language then this person can never really master the language and so in turn can never really be completely normal or Canadian. So, ultimately, it is the word Second in ESL that powerfully and violently lays the boundaries of who belongs and who does not, and how, within the Canadian state. Children (and adults), from homes where a language other than English is the first language, can be, and are, subjected to ESL tests irrespective of whether or not they were born in Canada, irrespective of whether or not they are starting their schooling in Canada at Kindergarten, and irrespective of whether or not they had been previously instructed in English before coming to Canada.

And to be in ESL classes, following such tests, means that students are taught English, and usually other subjects as well, at levels below others in their Grade. Most of these students end up knowing much less than others, with low self-esteem and with a few choices to break out of this rut that they feel they are in. Many drop out, finish school without graduating, find low-paying jobs, find ways to make quick money or end up in colleges. There are, of course, also those who for various reasons manage to get out of ESL classes—by their own hard work and sometime with the help of concerned teachers. And then there are others who have never been subjected to the ESL system either because they passed the test, because they were not given the tests or because the schools they went to did not have ESL programs—usually as a result of cutbacks.

The Sudanese, the schools, the social workers, the employers, the immigration officials, and the government all know that there is something wrong with the schools. But for most parts it is the Sudanese who are complaining, but without being heard or with their voices being deflected into already set out ways of dealing with the issue—that is through proposals for more, and maybe better, ESL classes.

The ESL policy, however, is not an isolated practice, and is, in fact, a part of the dominant discourse that charts out who belongs and who does not, in this case in Canada. The immigrant in general, among others, is included as an exclusion within this larger discourse. Through the dominant refugee discourse, the refugee in particularly is excluded even as efforts at reterritorialization and renationalization as solutions to their displacement are carried out. With the ESL policy, there is an attempt to Canadianize the refugee by making them learn English, but at the same time because they are not Canadian and can never be Canadian, and because Canada is supposedly doing them such a huge favor by resettling them and providing them with better and safer lives, it is alright to teach them just enough English for them to get survival jobs and sustain themselves—the grateful refugee should be happy for the help and to be contributing to Canada through their labour. This is why it is possible for the government, and others, to not act on Sudanese demands and complains, even though the Sudanese have been granted permanent residence and citizenship in Canada. The policy, as a part of the dominant refugee discourse, performatively produces and reproduces the Sudanese, among others, as the non-agential passive refugee, all the while consolidating the white Canadian citizen identity, in this instance of one who is assumed to speak, write and read perfect English. This, in turn, legitimizes the way refugees are treated, and allows for the possibility of their being used as manual labour.

The Sudanese, with their knowledges and actions, however, do not allow this to be a completed project. Recognizing as Wilson says, that “for Sudanese only ESL” and knowing that they came to Canada for their children’s and their own education and future, many in the Sudanese communities are trying to address at the least the direct impact of the ESL policy on children and youth. There are after-school sports program for youth and efforts are on to establish academic after-school programs. In Calgary Dennis has been running weekend classes in Science subjects, Moses has been running weekend programs for children to keep up their self-esteem, and Lual influenced the Catholic School Board to initiate summer English classes for High School students. But still for the Sudanese Ayan’s question remains, “is it worth coming here?” The Sudanese have on their hands, what Awadia calls, “another war”. And maybe a move towards a real alternative—in education.

About the author:*Deepa Rajkumar is a PhD/Doctoral candidate at the department of political science,York University, Toronto, Canada.