a linguistic ethnography of laissez faire translanguaging in two

A LINGUISTIC ETHNOGRAPHY OF LAISSEZ FAIRE TRANSLANGUAGING IN TWO HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH CLASSES

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE GRADUATION DIVISION OF THE UNIVERSITY OF HAWAI‘I AT MĀNOA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE

REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

IN

SECOND LANGUAGE STUDIES

MAY 2020

By

Anna Mendoza

Dissertation Committee:

Christina Higgins – Chairperson Betsy Gilliland

Graham Crookes Sarah Allen

Georganne Nordstrom

ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank Dr. Christina Higgins, Dr. Betsy Gilliland, Dr. Graham Crookes, Dr. Sarah

Allen, and Dr. Georganne Nordstrom for having my back through this whole process and being

so collegial with each other. A dissertation is already an immense challenge; you did not make it

any more difficult. On the contrary, you made the dissertation fun to write and revise (in the

sense that such a process can be) and of high quality.

I would also like to thank the College of Languages, Linguistics and Literature for

funding this research with the 2019 Doctoral Dissertation Research Award. It is not only the

financial award but the knowledge that others find my study important that I find encouraging. I

am grateful for the invitation to present a keynote lecture at the 2019 College of LLL Conference

to share my research with the public.

I am most thankful to the principal, teachers, and students at the school where I did my

study, who for reasons of confidentiality cannot be named here. I am amazed at the teachers’

curricular and extracurricular dedication, the creative and critical projects they shared at

conferences. I also thank my Ilokano translator, Mario Doropan, who made this study possible.

Graduating is bittersweet given the members of the SLS ‘ohana who made it a pleasure to

live here for four years: colleagues from Critical Pedagogy Group, SLSSA, Multi‘olelo, Saturday

Writers’ Group, and fellow graduate student instructors such as the occupants of Moore 586. My

thanks go to my friends Jayson Parba, Jiamin Ruan, Jiaxin Ruan, Huy Phung, Ha Nguyen, Yuhan

Lin, Maiko Ikeda, and from afar, Sumin Fang. Also, I owe much professional growth to the trust

of Kenny Harsch and Priscilla Faucette.

Finally, I would like to thank my family—Gil, Elizabeth, and Miguel Mendoza; Donna,

Dave, and Jana Olsen; Win and Roy McClure; and Kent Olsen—for their steadfast support.

iii

ABSTRACT

This study investigated the multilingual practices in two high school English classrooms that can

be described as “laissez faire translanguaging” since they emerge when teachers permit the use

of languages other than English but do not explicitly teach students to harness these as learning

resources. Under such conditions, it is necessary to investigate how students use languages other

than English, which individuals benefit more from this classroom language policy and why, and

what learning affordances and limitations can be found in the multilingual practices students

perform in the absence of deliberate bi/multilingual pedagogy.

Over a school year (2018-19), I used linguistic ethnography and interactional

sociolinguistic analyses (Copland & Creese, 2015; Rampton, Maybin, & Roberts, 2015) to

investigate the following questions in an English 9 and an ESL 9/10 class, where some recently-

arrived students spoke non-English languages as their first languages and some who had mainly

grown up in the U.S. had varying levels of proficiency in their heritage languages:

1. What kinds of multilingual language use can be heard in high school English classes

where non-English languages are permitted but not part of official pedagogical practices?

2. How do students benefit from or experience challenges under a laissez faire language

policy? For instance:

2a. How does being in the classroom linguistic majority or minority play a role?

2b. How does being a relative newcomer or a resident multilingual impact individual

experiences?

My purpose was to capture how this language policy in English classrooms interacted with

students’ uptake and contextual factors, shaping opportunities to learn.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements…………………………………………………………………………… ii Abstract……………………………………………………………………………………….. iii Table of Contents………………………………………………………………………………iv List of Tables………………………………………………………………………………… vi List of Figures……………………………………………………………………………….. vii List of Excerpts……………………………………………………………………………… viii Transcription Conventions…………………………………………………………………….. x Chapter 1. Why Study (Laissez Faire) Translanguaging?………………………………… 1 1.1 Introduction…………………………………………………………………………. 2 1.2 Why Study the Multilingual Practices of Under-Researched Students?……………. 8 1.3 The Research Context……………………………………………………………… 13 1.4 The Historical Context……………………………………………………………... 16 1.5 The Research Aims………………………………………………………………… 18 1.6 Researcher Positionality…………………………………………………………… 23 1.7 Outline of the Dissertation…………………………………………………………. 31 Chapter 2. Literature Review……………………………………………………………… 33 2.1 Types of Mixed Language Use in Classroom Interaction…………………………. 33 2.2 Translanguaging-to-Learn…………………………………………………………. 35 2.3 Ludic Translanguaging…………………………………………………………….. 40 2.4 Code-Switching to Organize Activity……………………………………………... 44 2.5 Multilingual Talk as Identity Negotiation…………………………………………. 53 2.5.1 Self- and Other-Stylization…………………………………………………53 2.5.2 Language Crossing………………………………………………………… 57 Chapter 3. Methodology……………………………………………………………………. 64 3.1 What is Linguistic Ethnography?…………………………………………………...64 3.2 Why use LE to Research Bi/Multilingual Classroom Talk?.……………………….68 3.3 Methods of Data Collection………………………………………………………... 74 3.4 Methods of Data Analysis…………………………………………………………..78 3.5 The English 9 Class………………………………………………………………... 82 3.5.1 The English 9 Curriculum…………………………………………………. 82 3.5.2 Juan’s Educational and Professional Background………………………… 84 3.5.3 English 9 Class Dynamics…………………………………….…………… 86 3.5.4 English 9 Focal Students…………………………………….…………….. 90 3.6 The ESL 9/10 Class………………………………………………………………... 93 3.6.1 The ESL 9/10 Curriculum…………………………………………………. 93 3.6.2 Kaori’s Educational and Professional Background………….…………….. 94 3.6.3 ESL 9/10 Class Dynamics………………………………….……………… 96 3.6.4 ESL 9/10 Focal Students………………………………….……………….. 98 3.7 Positionality in the Research Environment………………………………………..102 Chapter 4. Types of Mixed Language Use Observed in the Two Classes……………… 107 4.1 Translanguaging-to-Learn………………………………………………………... 107 4.2 Code-Switching in Classroom Learning Activities………………………………. 113 4.3 Ludic Translanguaging (Polylanguaging)………………………………………... 120 4.4 Self- and Other-Stylization……………………………………………………….. 126

v

4.5 Language Crossing……………………………………………………………….. 131 4.6 Limits of Spontaneous Multilingual Practices (Laissez Faire Translanguaging)… 135 Chapter 5. Majority, Minority, Singletons: The Challenges of Ethnocentrism……….. 141 5.1 Ethnocentrism in Activities Reflecting the Cultural Mainstream…………………142 5.2 Ethnocentrism in Activities Inviting Students to Talk About Their Cultures……. 152 5.3 Ethnocentrism in Activities Intended to Foster New Cultural Awareness……….. 158 5.4 The Translanguaging of Classroom Minorities and Singletons…………………...164 5.5 Code-Switching, Code Choices, and Inclusion/Exclusion………………………...169 Chapter 6. Individual Students within Translanguaging Networks…………………….181 6.1 English 9 Students’ Individual Responses to the Language Questionnaire……….182 6.2 Literary Analysis: Translanguaging Kix, Reluctant Jhon…………………………185 6.3 Dramatic Performance: Translanguaging Jhon, Reluctant Kix…………………... 190 6.4 Translanguaging (Dis)(En)Abled by Available Models and Discourses………….194 6.5 ESL 9/10 Students’ Individual Responses to the Language Questionnaire……….198 6.6 Flow-G and the Loud Filipino Boys……………………………………………… 201 6.7 Juliana and the Girls Subtly Challenge the Class Hegemony……………………. 210 6.8 More Research on Translanguaging at the Individual Level?……………………. 215 Chapter 7. Conclusion…………………………………………………………………….. 220 7.1 The Research Gap This Study Has Addressed…………………………………… 220 7.2 Summary of Findings……………………………………………………………...224 7.3 Pedagogical Implications…………………………………………………………. 228 7.4 Study Limitations and Future Research Directions………………………………. 236 Appendix A: Language Background Questionnaire………………………………………... 241 Appendix B: Semi-Structured Student Interview Questions………………………………...242 Appendix C: Semi-Structured Teacher Interview Questions……………………………….. 243 Appendix D: Sample Data Handout…………………………………………………….244-245 References. ………………………………………………………………………………….. 246

vi

LIST OF TABLES

Table 1 Thematic Analysis of Classroom Data…………………………………………... 78-79 Table 2 Sampling of Lessons in English 9………………………………………………...83-84 Table 3 Students in English 9…………………………………………………………….. 88-89 Table 4 Sampling of Lessons in ESL 9/10………………………………………………...93-94 Table 5 Students in ESL 9/10…………………………………………………………….. 97-98 Table 6 English 9 Students’ Responses to Language Questionnaire…………………... 182-183 Table 7 ESL 9/10 Students’ Responses to Language Questionnaire………………………...199 Table 8 Filipino vs English Talk……………………………………………………………. 201

vii

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1 Locating Laissez Faire Translanguaging among Other Translingual Pedagogies…... 5 Figure 2 The Multilingual Mind as an All-Terrain Vehicle…………………………………... 9 Figure 3 Cartoon from the Honolulu Star Bulletin by Corky Trinidad (2005)……………… 25 Figure 4 Languages in the Philippines………………………………………………………. 29 Figure 5 Types of Mixed Language Use in Oral Classroom Interactions…………………… 34 Figure 6 Contextualization Cues as Described in Auer (1996)…………………………….... 67 Figure 7 Working with NVivo 12……………………………………………………………. 81 Figure 8 English 9 Class Dynamics………………………………………………………….. 88 Figure 9 ESL 9/10 Class Dynamics………………………………………………………….. 97

viii

LIST OF EXCERPTS

Excerpt 1 “Pa’trás” ………………………………………………………………………...10-11 Excerpt 2 “Talking It Through” …………………..…………………………………….……..36 Excerpt 3 Stimulated Recall of “Talking It Through”.………………………………….……..36 Excerpt 4 “It Sounds Like a /H/”...…………………………………………………….………37 Excerpt 5 “Pambubully”.……………………………………………………………….…..38-39 Excerpt 6 “Are You Finish?”.……...………………………...………………………….….40-41 Excerpt 7 “Papabjørn”…………………………………………………………………………42 Excerpt 8 “Bái Lǐng Gŏu”………..…………………………………………………….………43 Excerpt 9 Code-Switching……………………………………………………………………..45 Excerpt 10 “We Are Going to Start”…………….………...…………………………….…….46 Excerpt 11 Collaborative Writing in an EFL Class………………………………...…….....….47 Excerpt 12 Teacher Code-Switching in an EFL Class……..……………………………….48-49 Excerpt 13 “Dessine en Française”………………………………....……………………….…47 Excerpt 14 Trilingual Educational Aide…………………………………………..……….…..52 Excerpt 15 Sarcasm……………………………………………………………………………55 Excerpt 16 “Unaccented English”……………………………………………………….…56-57 Excerpt 17 “Very Sorry Benjaad”……...……………………….……………………….…58-59 Excerpt 18 “We’re Coming Here Awta Shaniware”…………………..………………………70 Excerpt 19 “They Are Going Out”……………….……………..……………….…………71-72 Excerpt 20 Translanguaging-to-Learn During Pair Work………….…………….……...108-109 Excerpt 21 Translanguaging-to-Learn During Group Work…………….………………109-110 Excerpt 22 Translanguaging-to-Learn with Oneself…………………………………….111-112 Excerpt 23 “Life Guards and Life Boats”……….………………………………………113-114 Excerpt 24 Code-Switching to Scaffold (Part 1)…………………...……………………116-117 Excerpt 25 Code-Switching to Scaffold (Part 2)……………...…...…………………………119 Excerpt 26 Ludic Opener…………………...…………………………………….…………..121 Excerpt 27 “Friend-Zo::ne, Friend-Zo::ne”………...……………………………………122-123 Excerpt 28 Alternative Lyrics…...………………………………………………………124-125 Excerpt 29 Heritage Languages and Self-Stylization………………………………………...127 Excerpt 30 Playing Cheese…………...………………….………………………………129-130 Excerpt 31 “Mantɛka”………………………………………...……………………………...131 Excerpt 32 “Oppa”……………………………………….………...…………………………132 Excerpt 33 “Am-eri-kan”……………………………….………….……………………134-135 Excerpt 34 Verbal Analogies……………………...…….……………………………………137 Excerpt 35 “Against Your Answers”………………………..…….………….…………142-143 Excerpt 36 “Hi Summer”……………………………………..……………….…………144-146 Excerpt 37 “Polang Polang”………………………………….…………….……………148-150 Excerpt 38 Myths………………………………………………………………………..154-155 Excerpt 39 Natives and Transnationals………………………………………………….156-157 Excerpt 40 Hōkūleʻa…………………………………….……………………………………159 Excerpt 41 ELLs and Bi/Multilinguals……...…………….……………………………..160-162 Excerpt 42 Chinese Name or English Name? (Part 1)……......………………………………166 Excerpt 43 Chinese Name or English Name? (Part 2)………………...………………………167 Excerpt 44 Inclusive Code- and Mode-Switching………………………...………………….170

ix

Excerpt 45 Inclusive Code-Switching in Group Literary Analysis…...…..……………...171-172 Excerpt 46 Electing a Speaker for the Poetry Book Launch (ESL 9/10)…...……………173-175 Excerpt 47 Electing a Speaker for the Poetry Book Launch (English 9)………...…………..176 Excerpt 48 Kix Sitting with Jhon and Aliah during a Class Taught by the Substitute...…185-186 Excerpt 49 Kix Says Jhon Speaks English Only…………………………………...……187-188 Excerpt 50 Jhon Explains Why He Speaks English Only……………..………………………188 Excerpt 51 “I Don’t Know What’s Causing Him Not to [Translanguage]”……...…………..189 Excerpt 52 Jhon and He Rehearsing (Part 1)….……………….…………………………190-191 Excerpt 53 Jhon and He Rehearsing (Part 2)…….…………….…………………………191-192 Excerpt 54 Speaking Filipino in Class (Cookie’s Perspective).……….…………………202-203 Excerpt 55 Speaking Filipino in Class (Skusta’s and Kok’s Perspectives).………...……204-205 Excerpt 56 Speaking Filipino in Class (Flow-G’s Perspective)……….…………………206-207 Excerpt 57 Past Tense of “Climb”.……...……………………….………………………208-209 Excerpt 58 “You Don’t Speak!”…………………………………...…………………….210-211 Excerpt 59 Round Robin Reading…………..……………………………...……………212-214 Excerpt 60 “He’s Trying to Clarify. Not Trying to Judge You…”….…………...……………217

x

TRANSCRIPTION CONVENTIONS (Gumperz, 1982; Hepburn & Bolden, 2013)

(2.0) pause length in seconds

(.) micropause of < 0.2 seconds

falling intonation ↓

rising intonation ↑

[ overlapping speech

>fast speech<

<slow speech>

°soft speech°

emphasis

J laughing while talking

XXX indistinct speech

= latching, or quickly adding to the last speaker’s utterance

(actions accompanying speech)

1

CHAPTER 1

WHY STUDY (LAISSEZ FAIRE) TRANSLANGUAGING?

Fourteen ESL 9/10 students at a Honolulu high school are writing poems during second period.

There is a lot of talk in the classroom, most of it in Filipino. For 25 minutes, I tally utterances

that students direct out to the class, not just at immediate neighbors. Seventy-three utterances,

mostly social in nature, are in Filipino. Three other utterances are directed to the Filipino

educational assistant, also in Filipino: “Miss, tulungan mo siya” (Miss, help him/her), “Miss,

paano i-move to?” (Miss, how do I move this?), that is, on the word processor, and “Miss!

Tapos na miss!” (Miss! Done already miss!). This makes 76 utterances in Filipino.

Thirty-two utterances are directed in English to the class by students, also mostly social.

Eighty-eight English utterances are directed to the Korean-American student teacher, and

almost all of them are individual requests for help. This makes a total of 120 English utterances.

Although about two thirds of the talk happens in English (120/196), none of the Filipino

majority students seems to be using English much with each other. In addition, no recorded talk

comes from three students—Kaiea, Binh, and Summer—who are not Filipino speakers, and seem

to be sitting silently.

Despite the claimed benefits of translanguaging (using an integrated linguistic repertoire

to communicate) as the teacher, student teacher, and educational assistant encouraged use of

non-English languages as necessary, I hear mainly code-switching (different codes for different

purposes) between distinct languages—Filipino for peers and English for the student teacher,

who is leading the lesson. Nearly 100 questions are directed to her in English, overwhelming her

and preventing her from helping quieter students. Students in the class linguistic majority use

their entire linguistic repertoires but position the teacher as the only source of English learning.

2

1.1 Introduction

The above vignette is from a study of two high school English classes, which aimed to

investigate the multilingual classroom practices that can be described as “laissez faire” since they

emerge when teachers permit the use of languages other than English but do not explicitly teach

students to harness these languages as learning resources. In the vignette above, the dominance

of Filipino is heard among the students, though students with other ethnolinguistic backgrounds

remain silent. In addition, while the students ask for the teacher’s help in English, they do not

treat one another as resources for English learning. These observations point to the need to better

understand the opportunities that multilingual students have to make use of their languages in

particular classroom ecologies. In the case of the vignette above, the possibilities for

translanguaging are shaped by majority-minority relations and enacted student-teacher roles.

It is important to examine situations like this because most of the educational literature on

bi/multilingualism in K-12 classrooms typically deals with more deliberate forms of bilingual

and heritage language education (e.g., Baker & Wright, 2017; Creese & Blackledge, 2010).

While bilingual/heritage language classrooms differ in the extent to which they allow

translanguaging, or use of an integrated language repertoire to learn, ultimately the learning goal

is to become bi/multilingual.1 Students may spontaneously mix languages in group discussions

and written assignments (Fu, 2009), and teachers can lead cross-comparisons between languages

in the same lesson (Cenoz & Gorter, 2011). Conversely, some dual language education programs

are based on a “two solitudes” model that “consistently directs teachers to use standard registers

1 Most of these programs teach English plus another language (e.g., Spanish-English in García-Mateus & Palmer, 2017, and Mandarin-English in Fu, 2009). Other programs teach three languages, such as a heritage language, the national language, and English (e.g., Basque-Spanish-English in Cenoz & Gorter, 2011).

3

of each program language… and to refrain from mixing languages” (García-Mateus & Palmer,

2017, p. 246). But despite the extent to which bi/multilingual education supports

translanguaging, or the use of an integrated language repertoire to learn as opposed to two/three

solitudes, it always has the same learning outcome—to develop bi/multilingualism. Texts are

often readily available in both/all languages of instruction, and students are expected to produce

bi/multilingual artifacts showing their learning.

Other initiatives seek to incorporate bi/multilingual pedagogy into “mainstream” K-12

education in a country’s official language (e.g., Marshall & Toohey, 2010; Woodley & Brown,

2016). In these initiatives, other languages are systematically incorporated into lesson planning

and delivery so that students can make meaning across languages and see that their funds of

knowledge are valued at school (González, Moll, & Amanti, 2005). Complementary to such

initiatives, the multilingualism of schools is reflected in their linguistic landscapes and

extracurricular activities (Hélot & Young, 2005; Higgins & Ponte, 2017; Lotherington, 2013;

Woodley & Brown, 2016). For example, teachers and parents might help children make bilingual

story books and vocabulary cards; they might decorate the school and classroom walls with signs

and images in multiple languages; teachers can draw students’ attention to the diversity of

writing and phonetic systems; and parents might share their histories of immigration and

language learning, or cultural artifacts, food, and music. Such activities can also help raise

participants’ language awareness: teachers may consider how to assess students’ literacy skills in

their home languages as well as in English, and parents can realize that it is possible to develop

both the dominant societal language and the home language.

While many K-12 teachers in English-dominant countries view first languages (L1s) as

resources for learning (Cummins, 2000) and acknowledge that students probably learn best when

4

allowed to use their entire linguistic repertoires (García, 2009; Garcia & Li, 2014),2 teachers

often do not explicitly teach students to translanguage when delivering a subject area curriculum.

This limits most K-12 translanguaging activities to culture-oriented extracurriculars or

elementary classrooms where subject matter is more general than discipline specific, and can

thus bring in aspects of students’ personal lives more often. Other challenges that arise when

trying to incorporate translanguaging pedagogy across the curriculum in the higher grades

include the need to balance the needs of relatively monolingual and multilingual students

(Reeves, 2006), classroom management and inclusion/exclusion issues that may arise when

students speak languages apart from English (Holdway & Hitchcock, 2018), especially when the

teacher doesn’t understand all of them, and societal and familial expectations that teachers focus

on teaching English (Faltis, 2001), particularly when standardized tests in every subject—except

for foreign languages—are administered in English only.3 Moreover, teachers are not often

trained to teach students to translanguage in ways that benefit discipline-specific learning unless

this is done in wide-scale, state-sponsored initiatives with good funding and resources (e.g.,

García & Kleyn, 2016). Thus, for many English-medium teachers, including teachers in

countries such as Kenya, Singapore, and Hong Kong that were colonized by anglophone powers

(Lin & Martin, 2005), letting students use different languages as they see fit in content area

2 Karathanos’ (2009) survey of 327 “mainstream” K-12 teachers (not teaching in bilingual or dual language education programs) in the U.S. Midwest showed that “teaching experience was positively associated with mainstream teachers’ support for the theoretical underpinnings of L1 use in instruction at all grade levels and for its practical implementation at the elementary level, yet not for its practical implementation at the secondary level” (p. 628). This suggests that, although teachers ideologically support L1 use, they find it more and more difficult to implement as students progress through the grades. 3 Even if a limited number of standardized tests in academic subject areas are in another language (e.g., Spanish in New York State), students lack instruction in the subject areas in languagues other than English (Menken & Kleyn, 2010).

5

classes—a “laissez faire” language policy—may seem an appealing middle ground between

“target language only” and a deliberate translanguaging pedagogy.

Laissez faire translanguaging in English-medium classrooms can range from

multilingualism being neither encouraged nor sanctioned, to the teacher capitalizing on moments

when other languages become pedagogically useful (e.g., Martin-Beltran, 2009). Either way, the

concept points to a lack of systematic planning to include students’ languages in lesson design,

instruction, or formal/informal assessment, hence the term I use in this dissertation: “laissez

faire” (Figure 1).

Figure 1 Locating Laissez Faire Translanguaging among Other Translingual Pedagogies

As Figure 1 shows, there are a range of ways teachers can do relatively multilingual or relatively

monolingual pedagogy. On the one hand, there are classes whose prescribed learning outcome is

bi/multilingualism, with curricula developed to achieve this goal. On the other end of the

spectrum, there are classes where the dominant societal language (usually English) is the only

language that appears in official teaching materials, and use of other languages is sanctioned. In

between these two poles, there are initiatives, most often at the elementary level, that bring

students’ languages and cultures into a monolingual curriculum in systematic and planned ways

(e.g., Cummins & Early, 2010; Lotherington & Jenson, 2011; Marshall & Toohey, 2010).

6

However, what is very common, and often under-researched, is acceptance, or even just

tolerance, of students’ multilingualism in the officially monolingual classroom where the

learning outcome is mastery of a discipline in the dominant societal language, without any

systematic use of students’ languages for pedagogical purposes. Under these conditions, it is

necessary to investigate how students use other languages, which individuals benefit more from

laissez faire translanguaging and why, and what learning affordances and limitations can be

found in these practices students perform in the absence of deliberate bi/multilingual pedagogy.

A small body of research has already begun to examine these questions (e.g., Allard,

2017; Allard, Apt, & Sacks, 2019; Charalambous, Charalambous, & Zembylas, 2016; Malsbary,

2013). However, such research—while acknowledging how hard it is to implement

translanguaging pedagogy and going beyond positive socioemotional and educational outcomes

for linguistically marginalized groups—still yields little interactional linguistic data documenting

how students position each other socially and linguistically. Research must go further, by

examining which participants talk the most (Duff, 2002) and which languages are used most

often and how (Allard et al., 2019) to show how classroom hegemonies are constructed and

contested by individuals, in unfolding interaction, to create or deny each other “translanguaging

spaces” (Li, 2011a). Such data needs to be examined because, as the opening vignette shows,

laissez faire translanguaging can reflect the hegemony of the class linguistic majority or the most

bi/multilingually proficient students. It is important to first understand the complex power

relations in classrooms so that we can further consider how multilingual language use can be

shaped in more equitable ways.

The two teachers who participated in this research are similar to many teachers who are

supportive of students’ multilingualism (Ponte & Higgins, 2015; Viesca et al. 2019). They do not

7

react negatively when they hear languages other than English in class and encourage students to

talk things through in these languages. However, due to course constraints and standardized

assessments, they do not have much opportunity to explicitly teach translanguaging. Since they

are not teaching in bi/multilingual programs, they do not require students to produce

bi/multilingual work. Yet an abundance of multilingual talk can be heard in their classrooms

because they do not wish to deprive students of the resource of their L1s, they value students’

funds of knowledge, and they are multilingual and multicultural themselves: Juan (in his 20s)

speaks Ilokano and Filipino (Tagalog) as L1s; Kaori (in her 40s) speaks Japanese as an L1 and is

married to an Italian. Over a school year (2018-19), I used linguistic ethnography (Copland &

Creese, 2015; Rampton, Maybin, & Roberts, 2015) and interactional sociolinguistic analysis

(Gumperz, 1982, 2015) to investigate the following research questions in Juan’s English 9 class

and Kaori’s ESL 9 class, where some recently-arrived students spoke non-English languages as

their L1s and some who had mainly grown up in the U.S. had varying levels of proficiency in

their heritage languages:




policy?



experiences?

In asking these research questions, I do not imply that a laissez faire language policy is inferior

to explicit translanguaging pedagogy. Rather, my purpose in conducting this research was to

8

explore how this language policy in English classrooms interacts with students’ uptake and

contextual factors, shaping opportunities to learn.

1.2 Why Study the Multilingual Practices of Under-Researched Students?

The school where Juan and Kaori work is in a “rough” neighborhood of Honolulu, where the

most discernable ethnolinguistic categories, and sometimes tensions, involve students with ties to

the Philippines or the Federated States of Micronesia. While a great deal of ethnographic,

educational linguistics work has focused on classroom and school practices among Blacks and

Whites (e.g., Heath, 1983), or Anglos and Latinxs (e.g., Malsbary, 2012; Martin-Beltran, 2009;

Menken & Kleyn, 2010), it is imperative that more studies be undertaken on immigrant groups

who have come to English-dominant countries in large numbers and attend schools without

White Anglo majorities. This is not simply a matter of equal representation: what educational

theorists believe about translanguaging can be enhanced and also challenged by examining

under-studied populations.

Currently, educational research on translanguaging focuses on the integratedness of the

language repertoire and the need to harness this entire repertoire to learn—notwithstanding the

domain-specificity of students’ prior language acquisition experiences or the language borders

that can be constructed in social interaction. Ofelia García, Li Wei, and their colleagues have

presented a model of the individual mind in which lexical entries and grammatical patterns may

belong to different named languages, but the only language anyone can be said to speak is their

personal idiolect; we harness all our linguistic resources when thinking through what we are

doing or what we want to say, even if only one language comes out (Li, 2017; Otheguy, García,

& Reid, 2015).

9

García (2009) has suggested that bi/multilingualism does not resemble a bicycle with two

or more identical wheels but an all-terrain vehicle in which each part serves its own function(s).

It is common for multilingual people to have differing degrees of linguistic competence across

their languages, and for them to use them as distinct and “hybrid” languages for different

purposes in specific social settings. Speakers often combine languages to achieve the same

sociocognitive or communicative ends as speaking one language per context (Figure 2).4

Figure 2. The Multilingual Mind as an All-Terrain Vehicle. Retrieved March 23, 2020 from https://www.slideshare.net/edac4co/bilingualism-and-bilingual-education-2017 In this all-terrain vehicle, the wheels (languages) “turn, extend and contract, [and] make up for

each other” (p. 143). García (2009) noted that this is not surprising given that in the 21st century,

the global movement of people, information, goods and services has caused the conception of

4 García’s (2009) translanguaging construct is similar to the construct of plurilingualism (Council of Europe, 2001), as both portray the language repertoire as integrated and asymmetrical. However, plurilingualism does not question the notion of distinct languages, and unlike translanguaging it does not make an explicit link between the dismantling of language boundaries and social justice (García & Otheguy, 2020). In this dissertation, I recognize both integrated language repertoires and distinct codes, and in the final chapter I will discuss what I think leads to linguistic equity in classrooms: (1) use of multiple languages in more or less integrated ways depending on people’s needs and inclinations; (2) joint ownership of the official classroom language as a lingua franca, with people using “different varieties… in context-specific negotiations to increase intelligibility to one another and to achieve their communicative goals” (Friedrich & Matsuda, 2010, p. 25), and (3) critical language awareness to counteract linguicism (Skutnabb-Kangas, 1981), or prejudice based on language and language varieties.

10

distinct national languages to unravel.5 The following classroom dialogue from Palmer,

Martínez, Mateus and Henderson (2014) shows how students and their teacher translanguage, or

use their integrated language repertoires, to co-construct meaning during storytelling in a grade 1

classroom in Texas. The class was discussing a scene from the book Friends from the Other Side

(Anzaldua, 1997), about undocumented immigration and the risk of deportation, when one

student, Josué, offered the following story.

Excerpt 1. “Pa’trás” (Martínez, Mateus, & Henderson, 2014, p. 764)

1 Josué: One time my grandma (inaudible) police called another police y la llevaron pa’trás a Texas.

2 Ms. J: A Texas o a Mexico?

3 Josué: A Texas.

4 Ms. J: Did y’all hear what Josué said? Is it ok if I tell them what you just said?

5 Josué: (nodding okay)

6 Ms. J: Josué said that one time his abuelita o abuelito?

7 Josué: Abuelita.

8 Ms. J: His abuelita was here in Texas and they got stopped in the car? Yes?

9 Josué: (nodding in affirmation)

10 Ms. J: They got stopped in the car and the police officer called another police officer. Who do you think that other police officer was?

11 Student A: The border patrol.

12 Ms. J: (asking Josué) The border patrol?

13 Josué: (nodding in affirmation)

5 This is not to say that linguistic hybridity is a new phenomenon. It existed on Vasco de Gama’s boat, in Ancient Rome, etc. However, the globalizing forces of the 21st century have created a counterdiscourse of linguistic hybridity that contrasts with the standard national language discourses of the 18th to 20th centuries, which reflect a nationalist ideology that originated in the Americas, was taken up by European countries as colonial powers, and was finally adopted in a post-colonial context to establish independent countries in Africa and Asia (Anderson, 2006).

11

14 Ms. J: And what did they do, Josué?

15 Josué: La mandaron pa’trás.

16 Ms. J: La mandaron pa’trás.

17 Josué: Porque no tenía el esticker del carro.

18 Ms. J: But where did they send her?

19 Josué: Pa’trás.

Palmer et al. (2014) note that instead of dividing up Spanish and English for different purposes,

students like Josué use them together dynamically to make meaning. Similarly, Li and Zhu

(2013), who investigated dynamic bilingualism among Chinese international students in the

U.K., found that these youth have developed an integrated linguistic repertoire comprising

different Chinese languages; British, New Zealand, and Singaporean English; and other

languages such as Spanish, Japanese, and French. Examining the everyday conversations of five

university students, the researchers illustrated that they spoke amongst each other, rather than

Standard Mandarin, a language best termed Global Chinese: “an emergent variety that draws

from different varieties of Chinese, occasionally intermixed with elements from other languages,

for lingua franca communication amongst heritage Chinese users” (p. 520).

In the past few decades, the construct of discrete languages in interaction has also been

criticized by researchers in favor of new terms such as “polylingualism” (Jørgensen, 2008),

“transidiomatic practices” (Jacquemet, 2005), and “hybrid language practices” (Gutiérrez,

Baquedano-López, & Tejeda, 1999). Jaspers and Madsen (2016) identify all these terms as

viewing languages not as bounded codes but as forming an integrated repertoire. Distinct

national languages are thus seen as a cultural invention, created to assimilate minority groups

and promote standard varieties of languages to non-native speakers who are perpetually

positioned as inferior (Makoni & Pennycook, 2006). However, these discourses of language

12

distinction do not only exist on the macro level of societal discourse, but at the level of

individual interaction. Language distinctions are also cognitively marked and pragmatically used

by individuals at certain times, even if languages are sociocultural inventions (Ruuska, 2016) and

the question of what or what does not constitute German, Finnish, etc. is always open to context-

specific negotiations. Language distinction as a social and psycholinguistic reality is supported

by research on societal diglossia (Fishman, 1967), psycholinguistic approaches to bilingualism

(Grüter & Paradis, 2014), and sociolinguistic work on code-switching (Filipi & Markee, 2018;

Lin, 2013) and identity positioning (Androutsopoulos & Georgakopoulou, 2005; Bucholtz &

Hall, 2005). Describing child language acquisition, Hymes (1972/2001) stated that the child

“acquires competence as to when to speak, when not, and as to what to talk about with whom,

when, where, in what manner” (as quoted in Ruuska, 2019, pp. 55-56)—a social competence that

includes, among other things, conscious code choices. Furthermore, theories of language

acquisition that describe how individual plurilingualism develops over the lifespan (Eskildsen,

2008; Tomasello, 2003) do not suggest that languages are integrated to the fullest extent, but that

there are asymmetric distributions with areas of overlap based on the “soundscapes and

textscapes” (Ortega, 2014, p. 43) of individual experience.

The work of Ofelia García and Li Wei (e.g, García & Li, 2014; Li, 2014; Li & Zhu,

2013) has done much to pinpoint the problem with “target language only” bilingual and heritage

language classes that aim for parallel monolingual competence, compartmentalizing languages

and failing to account for the bi/multilingual competencies of 21st century youth. Such

educational approaches may also be rooted in ideologies that construct false binaries between

Anglo and Latinx U.S. citizens, or between Chinese transnationals and the residents of the

English-dominant countries where they study, live, and work. On the other hand, research on

13

less-studied populations can show that not all bi/multilingual students use an integrated language

repertoire as readily as Latinx K-12 students in certain parts of the U.S. (where Spanish is a

widely spoken language with high public visibility) or Chinese university students in the U.K.

(where Chinese global elites are known for their cosmopolitanism). This is especially the case

when it comes to speakers of less commonly taught languages with weaker ethnolinguistic

vitality in the linguistic landscape. The lack of print materials for maintaining L1/HL literacy,

lack of cultural prestige in the public domain, and/or lack of institutional support has an impact

on the translanguaging practices of speakers of these languages. A study of laissez faire

translanguaging in an English-medium classroom in Honolulu with mostly Filipino and

Micronesian students can investigate what tensions exist between students’ ostensible need to

use their entire linguistic repertoires to learn and the “low” status of their languages compared to

English, Japanese, Korean, Chinese languages, Hawaiian, or even Hawai‘i Creole (which has

local value). This raises the question of what role less commonly taught immigrant languages

play in English-medium education.

1.3 The Research Context

This study took place in a political climate in Hawai‘i which, prima facie, supports

multilingualism in education, in contrast to most of the state’s history (Sato, 1994). A few years

before, the Multilingualism for Equitable Education Policy 105-14 (Hawai‘i Board of Education,

2016) was passed with the following six goals: (1) to provide a range of language programs for

multilingual students; (2) to provide effective educators with the appropriate knowledge, skills,

and materials; (3) to provide outreach supports to families; (4) to establish a permanent advisory

committee; (5) to provide an annual report to the BOE; and (6) to seek necessary funds to

implement the Multilingual Policy.

14

Many students in Hawai‘i are born into multilingual families and can pursue the Seal of

Biliteracy, an award available in most U.S. states that recognizes proficiency in at least two

languages by high school graduation. However, the Seal requires a GPA of 3.0, making it

difficult to attain for students still in ESL and struggling in their English-medium classes.

Moreover, the common way to demonstrate proficiency in a non-English language is a

standardized test, such as an AP or IB exam, which means that the Seal favors students from

higher socioeconomic backgrounds who cultivate parallel monolingualisms through advanced

coursework rather than the dynamic bi/multilingualism envisioned by García (2009). In addition,

even though the Hawai‘i Department of Education allows students to earn the Seal with

Hawaiian-plus-another-language or English-plus-another-language, and even though state

assessments broaden the range of languages to include Ilokano, Tagalog, and Vietnamese, no

assessments are offered in Chuukese, Kosraean, Pohnpeian, Yapese, Marshallese, or Samoan.

Given the primacy of written standardized assessments of proficiency, students from Pacific

Islander cultures whose literacy practices are primarily oral face barriers to earning the Seal.

At the school where Juan and Kaori teach, the English curriculum suggests the hegemony

of mainland U.S. culture and the variety of English spoken by White, middle-class Americans

(and adopted by white-collar locals of Asian descent), yet there was also the Filipino hegemony

of the blue-collar neighborhood. At this school—one of the four most ethnolinguistically diverse

high schools in Hawai‘i where 20–22% of the population were designated ELLs—59.1% of

students were Filipino, mostly Ilokano, 11.8% were Micronesian or Marshallese, 9.7% were

Samoan, 9.6% were Native Hawaiian, and 9.2% of students come from other backgrounds.6

6 These numbers are from a 2017 handout shared at an English teachers’ meeting in Fall 2018. The study took place in the academic year 2018-19.

15

Cultural celebration and the highlighting of the Filipino majority’s national identity often went

hand in hand, for example at an end-of-school-year assembly called May Day in Spring 2018. A

stage (the “court”) was set up in the gymnasium with a collection of thrones belonging to the

King and Queen of Hawai‘i, a Prince and Princess from each island, and Kings and Queens from

the “visiting” islands of Samoa, the Philippines, Japan, Greece, and the Marshall Islands. Hula

dances were performed by the Hawaiian court, interspersed with dances led by each visiting

couple. The Marshallese dance was the only dance in which audience members joined in,

displaying wild conviviality and solidarity, the students waving a large flag of the Marshall

Islands. But during the Filipino dance, which was scheduled last, the volume of applause reached

such thunderous levels that it seemed the auditorium’s roof would fly off, and so many flowers

and decorations were thrown onto the stage that performers were virtually buried in them. This

display of Filipino pride suggested the message “This is OUR turf” despite the centrality of

Hawaiian culture in the program, the Marshallese pride displayed earlier, and the relatively low

socioeconomic and cultural status of Filipinos in Hawai‘i (Teodoro, 2019).

Kaori, the ESL Department Head who oversaw 443 students with the ELL designation in

the year of the ethnography, explained that most Micronesian and Marshallese students arrived

as beginners in English, whereas most Filipino students did not, a trend that has implications not

only for course placement but also for school-wide discourses about students’ home languages.

Even if Filipinos are, in the broader context of Hawai‘i, dominated by Whites, Japanese,

Chinese, Koreans, and other locals of mixed heritage, this neighborhood has a blue-collar,

newcomer Filipino majority, while Micronesians and Marshallese are the most marginalized

immigrant group in the neighborhood and the state, in terms of both their legal status and societal

discourse. I now turn to the situation of these groups given Hawai‘i’s immigration history.

16

1.4 The Historical Context

From the 1870s to 1920s, waves of immigrants came to work on Hawaiian plantations run by

businessmen from the U.S. mainland: Chinese, Portuguese, Japanese, Korean, and Filipino, in

order of arrival. The indigenous population, which was decimated by disease as a result of

colonization, comprised 79.2% of the population in 1880 and 3.8% in 1932 (Reinecke, 1969). By

the overthrow of Queen Lili‘uokalani in 1893 and the annexation of the unceded kingdom by the

U.S., the Hawaiian language was already in serious decline. From the 1890s until the 1930s,

virtually all children on the islands were taught with English-medium education, but what many

were actually speaking outside of class was Hawai‘i Creole (HC), a language that originated as a

Hawaiian-, Japanese-, and English-lexified pidgin on the plantations and evolved into a

grammatically systematic and fully developed language. As the century progressed, HC

increasingly began to resemble English through numerous lexical borrowings, albeit with

recognizable principles of grammar and pronunciation. What caused this shift was the rise of the

tourist industry and the end of the plantation era; as former plantation workers moved to the

cities from the 1930s on, there emerged an upwardly mobile group of HC speakers who entered

white-collar professions and acquired standard English, while some of their counterparts

remained in relative poverty, working in the service sector (Sato, 1985). Blue-collar HC

speakers, descended from Filipino plantation workers, may be related to, yet are also distinct

from, the Filipinos who arrived following the U.S. Immigration Act of 1965. Through this Act,

immigration policy across the U.S. became focused on family unification, resulting in

immigration chains built up of blood or marriage ties. In a study of Immigration and

Naturalization Service annual reports (1972–85), Liu, Ong, and Rosenstein (1991) proposed a

“dual chain” theory of post-1965 migration from the Philippines to the U.S. Comparing flows in

17

New Jersey with those in California and Hawai‘i, they found that a white-collar chain operated in

New Jersey and a blue-collar chain in Hawai‘i, while both chains were active in California. Thus,

Filipino-American communities reproduced social stratifications in the Philippines.

New waves of immigrants from the same countries that once populated the plantations

come to live in ethnolinguistic enclaves—as in the predominantly Filipino neighborhood of the

school—rather than assimilate to the local population. These more recent immigrants also

include Pacific Islanders such as Samoans and Micronesians, the latter an umbrella turn for

people from the Marshall Islands and the Federated States of Micronesia (Chuukese, Kosraeans,

Pohnpeians, and Yapese). Micronesians, known as Compact of Free Association (COFA)

immigrants, have been immigrating to Hawai‘i since the 1970s due to devastation to their islands

wrought by U.S. atomic bomb testing. They are legally allowed to work in the U.S. but are

excluded from many social benefits, suffering poor health outcomes, poverty and homelessness.

Micronesian immigrants face more significant English barriers than Filipinos, often needing

interpreters when receiving medical and social services. When no such interpreters are available,

office or hospital staff may show little sympathy or concern (Leal, 2016). For their part, COFA

immigrants may hesitate to assert their linguistic and cultural identities to avoid rocking the boat

or fueling negative stereotypes of Micronesians (Appleseed Center for Law and Economic

Justice, 2011). Unfortunately, many people are unaware that Micronesia consists of many

different nations, languages and cultures.

Differences in quality of life between Filipinos and Micronesians affect educational

outcomes. According to a survey commissioned by the Hawai‘i Department of Education

(Hawai‘i P-20 Partnerships for Education, 2018), Chuukese and Ilokano are the two most

common languages for ELL-designated students statewide, yet high school graduation rates are

18

79% for Ilokano students who were designated ELLs upon graduation and 95% for Ilokano

students who had exited ESL, compared to 35% for Chuukese students who had the ELL

designation upon graduation and 66% who had exited ESL. In terms of postsecondary education,

22% of Ilokano students who were in ESL and 45% who had exited ESL by high school

graduation went on to complete a college degree or certificate within 6 years, compared to 3% of

Chuukese students who were in ESL and 13% who had exited ESL by high school graduation.

One major reason for these different outcomes is the primacy of print in higher education, which

disadvantages students from oral cultures (Perez Hattori, 2020). Thus, while educational

outcomes for both groups are still far below those of middle-class White and East Asian students,

they are notably better for Filipinos than Micronesians.

1.5 The Research Aims

This study on laissez faire translanguaging among an under-researched population aims to build

on those few studies that ask whether and how students translanguage in English-medium K-12

classrooms, with attention to language majority/minority relations in the class (Allard et al.,

2019; Malsbary, 2013) and individual differences in investment (Norton, 2000/2013) in different

communities of language users (Malsbary, 2012). Although such research is based more on case

studies of individuals or intact classes than interactional sociolinguistic analyses, which are the

focus of this study, it is worth noting what has so far been found.

Allard (2017) investigated why students in a multi-aged ESL high school class resisted

translanguaging pedagogy in a Mid-Atlantic town whose Latino population rose from 3% to 28%

between 1990 and 2010. She calls this context the “New Latino Diaspora,” as the town did not

historically have so many Latinx students, but experienced an influx of them in recent years,

including students from refugee and migrant worker backgrounds. She contrasts this to García’s

19

context in New York City (e.g., García, Kleifgen, & Falchi, 2008), where there is more

entrenched school and state support for bilingualism. The school where Allard did her

ethnography had just gone from mainstreaming approaches (i.e., ELL-designated students

received no support but had to “sink or swim” in regular classes) to placing these students in

sheltered yet segregated courses. Both program types came with affordances and limitations: in

mainstreaming, students developed conversational English much faster due to immersion, yet

struggled with subject coursework due to lack of instructional adaptation to help them develop

academic literacies. In the new ESL programs, they developed spoken English at a slower pace

and had no room for electives, yet received better instruction in subject content with ESL and

bilingual adaptations. Whether the students later came to see these benefits was beyond the scope

of Allard’s study, but she notes that they blamed the prevalent use of Spanish in ESL class for

lack of progress in English, with one girl commenting, “Miss, porque no English?” (Miss, why

not English?) when Allard tried to do translanguaging pedagogy in a tutorial. Allard concluded

that without broader structures that give high status and visibility to bi/multilingualism, students

internalize views hostile to translanguaging even if it is a resource for them—blaming it for their

academic struggles instead of recognizing institutional marginalization as the real cause. She

argues that we need to look at translanguaging in its ecology, which includes the relationships

among languages, the social contexts of their use, and the speakers of these languages

(Hornberger & Hult, 2008).

Another study Allard conducted in Philadelphia with colleagues (Allard et al., 2019)

examined the relationship between L1 Spanish speakers, who were the majority in a class of

ELLs, and “singletons,” who were the only students who spoke their L1s in the class. In this

context, which the researchers called an “almost bilingual” classroom since most but not all

20

students shared the same language other than English as a home language, some singletons felt

the teacher spoke too much Spanish, and viewed this as inequitable. However, Spanish-speaking

students, many of whom were refugees, benefited academically and socially from L1 use,

especially when sharing identity texts (essays, poetry, drawings) about difficult life experiences.

In proposing solutions, the researchers avoided black-and-white claims, since reactions to

Spanish sometimes came down to individual preferences: some non-Spanish speakers did not

mind the teacher’s use of Spanish, while some Spanish L1 speakers avoided translanguaging.

However, one clear takeaway from the study was that students’ language needs sometimes

conflicted, and that translanguaging was not always more beneficial than trying to speak English

as a lingua franca: as a group, Spanish L1 speakers relied heavily on the teacher’s oral

translations instead of using other communication strategies (e.g., circumlocutions,

multimodality), which singletons practiced to a greater degree. Moreover, the researchers argued

that teachers need to “establish the locus of control for language choice with students” and

“guide their students when their choices exclude peers” (p. 12).

In a study of a classroom that was also Spanish-dominant with a number of singletons,

this time in a culturally diverse and well-resourced school in California where Spanish and

multilingualism in general were promoted, Malsbary (2012, 2013) documented a very different

translanguaging culture than Allard. She studied a multi-grade high school ESL classroom (most

students were in grades 10 and 11) with 15 students, a teacher, and an instructional aide.

Students were from Colombia, Mexico, Brazil, Ethiopia, Nicaragua, Iran, Thailand, and Chile. In

this context, Malsbary (2013) highlighted two key findings:

First… being able to speak fluently in both Spanish and English determined who was at

the core of the community of practice and, thus, who shaped belonging for the other

21

participants; and, secondly… bilingualism meant full participation, which disrupted the

traditional authority exerted by the teacher, conferring epistemic authority to students and

the instructional aide. (p. 10)

In other words, speakers whose repertoires lacked English or Spanish resources, including the

native English speaker teacher, accessed only part of the interactions. The central players in the

classroom were two students from Mexico, Maritza and Alejandro, whom Malsbary (2013)

described as “the classroom’s synaptic connections” since they did most of the language

brokering and “had the most choice in how they located themselves in the social landscape,

engaged their energies, and steered their trajectories” (p. 12). In contrast, the most marginalized

students were Thai, Amharic, and Persian speakers—singletons who learned a little Spanish but

accessed limited classroom activity. Nevertheless, the class as a whole experienced positive

learning outcomes since “peer teaching, sharing culture and language, and genuinely caring for

and supporting each other” (p. 19) mitigated immigrant students’ alienation in the larger school

community and society, creating both opportunities for inclusion and new hierarchies of

language and culture.

Malsbary was also interested in how Spanish speakers and singletons described their

language socialization in similar or different ways. She highlighted that neither assimilated into

an Anglo mainstream, so discourses promoting this kind of adjustment are detached from reality.

Following four students over 14 months, Malsbary (2012) proposed a construct—focal

immigrant group, or a majority immigrant group dominant in official discourse and the public

imagination in the region (in this case, Mexicans)—and contrasted the experiences of students in

this group with other students.

22

The trajectory of her Mexican participant, Juan Carlos, was marked by the politics of

Southern California; Juan Carlos found friends quickly, but also experienced prejudice from

Latinx students who had been in the U.S. longer. In his ELL classes, there was a schism between

old-timer and newcomer Latinx students, with the former seeing the latter as FOBs (“Fresh off

the Boat”); see similar findings among Asian and Pacific Islander immigrant students in

Honolulu in Talmy (2010). Three singletons—Ryeol from Korea, Amnah from Iran, and Naaz

from Pakistan and Saudi Arabia—had somewhat less predictable trajectories. Ryeol did well at

school but felt lonely, as only one of five Korean students. He spent plenty of time online until

he found a Korean peer group in university, and only then did he feel confident and appreciate

diversity around him. Amnah had a group of friends from Pakistan, Burma, Egypt, Dubai, and

Iran; they spoke English with each other; she also knew a bit of Spanish and Chinese, and liked

salsa. Naaz was only one of three Pakistani students at the school, and was adopted by a

Brazilian peer group, who offered her warmth and social belonging. These cases illustrate some

of the options for singletons: keep seeking co-ethnics, join a pan-ethnic group, or to affiliate with

another culture. While Malsbary’s ethnography (2013) suggested that the main immigrant group

experiences most of the benefits of translanguaging in the classroom, her case studies (Malsbary,

2012) suggest that singletons, or students with atypical linguistic and cultural profiles vis-à-vis

the ecology of their school, have the advantage of the widest range of options for identity

negotiation since their identities are not pre-emptively constructed by media discourses and

social stereotypes; see similar findings from Enright (2011), also in California.

Allard’s and Malsbary’s studies raise a point that should be acknowledged in any

research on classroom translanguaging: translanguaging is not only a sociocognitive practice

conducive to learning, or an aspect of group identity to be celebrated, but involves identity

23

positionings that encourage or prohibit individuals from thinking aloud in multiple languages to

learn. Because a positive identity positioning by one participant (through translanguaging or

monolingualism) can create a negative positioning for another, intentional or not, people must

carefully navigate any conflicts and threats to face arising from their language choices. How this

plays out in the classroom in unfolding interaction is a question worthy of exploration.

1.6 Researcher Positionality

Since analysis of bi/multilingual repertoires and practices is derived from one’s own

bi/multilingual experiences, it is worth reflecting on my own background. I was born in the

Philippines in 1986 and immigrated to Hong Kong in 1991 when my father’s employer, the

Hong Kong Singapore Banking Corporation, posted him abroad. In 1996, the bank relocated our

family to Vancouver, Canada prior to the 1997 Changeover (Britain’s return of Hong Kong to

China). In British Hong Kong, I lived in an “expatriate bubble” and learned no more than a few

words of Cantonese, but attended the German Swiss International School, which offered English-

medium education except for German class. I started learning French in elementary school after

moving to Canada, and continued taking it in secondary school; even though it is rarely spoken

outside of Quebec, it is a common academic subject nationwide. After attending a girls’ private

school from grades 5 through 12 where French was strongly promoted, I went to a women’s

liberal arts college in Pennsylvania, double-majoring in English and Creative Writing (with a

focus on pre-20th century British literature in the former and modern American poetry and fiction

in the latter). I dreamed of being a famous writer, and to that end I avidly read mountains of what

I then believed to be the “finest” of English writing, strongly identifying with “dead white male

literature” from the British and American canons.

24

Growing up, I spoke Tagalog at home and enjoyed Filipino food, but learned little about

Filipino culture, popular or literary. I do not believe this precludes me from claiming a Filipino

identity, though I identify more with the culture of Canada, the U.S., and the U.K. because this is

what I have been exposed to my whole life, from the Backstreet Boys to Game of Thrones, from

Shakespeare to Margaret Atwood. On the other hand, I now realize that canonical status and

literary quality have very little to do with each other.

During my MA in TESL, my thesis supervisor, Dr. Bonny Norton, a pioneer of identity

theory in applied linguistics (Norton, 2000/2013), mentioned that any scholar’s theoretical

contributions could be traced back to their biography. In identity theory, Norton drew on the

work of sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, who described individual capital as economic (e.g., funds in

the bank), social (e.g., friend networks) or cultural (e.g., education) (Bourdieu, 1986). Identity

theory, the forms of capital, and my experiences have led me to this study on the social

indexicalities of translanguaging. The way that this study highlights not only the integration but

the domain-specificity and distinction between the languages in the repertoire can be traced back

to two negative events that I or a family member experienced in Canada—acknowledging that,

since we were upper-middle-class, such experiences for us were few and far between. The first

was when I was in elementary school and filling out a volunteer application form for a

community center. The form asked me what languages I spoke, and I put down: English,

Tagalog, German, French. (I have since forgotten German, but have conversational proficiency

in Tagalog and French.) When my mother saw this, she told me to put whiteout over Tagalog

since it suggested I was less proficient in the European languages. My mother did not deny her

Filipino heritage in face-to-face interaction, but she felt that Tagalog-speakerness did not let me

put my best foot forward on a volunteer application. Another time, a Filipino deliveryman

25

arrived at our house with a package. My mother answered the door; in halting English and with a

Filipino accent, the man explained the terms of the delivery, then when he got to my father’s first

and last name, which are Tagalog/Spanish in origin, he asked, “How do you pronounce this

name?” which was quite possibly the only thing he could easily pronounce. My mother, who has

spoken fluent English since childhood, completed an English-medium undergraduate degree at

UP–Diliman (the Philippine version of Peking University or Seoul National University), and had

lived in Canada for 20 years, felt insulted at being positioned as “fresh off the boat.”

Filipino immigrants’ attempt to erase their ethnic identity was satirized in a Honolulu

Star Bulletin cartoon (Figure 3) by Corky Trinidad, who explained:

Filipinos born in Hawaii, as soon as they reached the age of reason, and the Filipinos

migrating from the Philippines, as soon as they left the airport, became Chinese-Spanish

or Spanish-Chinese-Singaporean or Spanish-Portuguese-Basque or Chinese-American-

Irish or some such combination (Trinidad, 2005).

Figure 3 Cartoon from the Honolulu Star Bulletin by Corky Trinidad (2005)

26

According to Trinidad, they are not exactly lying, as Spaniards, Japanese, Americans, Indians,

Chinese, Dutch, British, and Russians all played some part in the Philippines’ colonization—the

primary colonizing countries being Spain (from the 16th century to 1898) and the U.S. (until the

end of WWII; Japan occupied the Philippines during the war period). Indeed, identity is a social

construction, negotiated through interactions, but the extent to which Filipinos stretch identity

claims in certain situations, such as those described by Trinidad, has always struck me as both

ridiculous and tragic. Thus, my intended theoretical contributions to the study of translanguaging

in education reflect a concern that students from less commonly taught language backgrounds

whose L1s/HLs are not well represented in the public domain—especially those from blue-collar

populations with limited cultural, social, and economic capital—view the languages in their

repertoires as distinct for understandable reasons, and have rarely translanguaged because of lack

of heritage language maintenance leading to “receptive only” proficiency. Aditionally, like

Latinx students, speakers of less commonly taught heritage languages may avoid translanguaging

due to the stigmatized classed and racialized identities such practices call forth.7

I now turn to how I choose to use the terms “Filipino” and “Tagalog” in this study given

my relationship to these languages, with some background information on the Philippines’

language history. Unlike other countries colonized by Spain, the Philippines did not acquire

Spanish as a widely spoken language. Despite over 300 years of colonization, when Spain sold

the Philippines to the U.S. in 1898 only an estimated 2–3% of Filipinos spoke Spanish

(Gonzalez, 1980). However, within only a half-century, the U.S. transformed the Philippines into

7 Based on facebook, I suspect that translanguaging between Filipino languages, and between Filipino languages and languages such as English and Korean in pop culture, may be more common today in the Philippines than in the diaspora. However, empirical research is needed to confirm this intuition.

27

an Outer Circle English-speaking country (Kachru, 1986) through English-medium public

schooling. When the U.S. granted the Philippines political, if not economic, independence at the

end of WWII, Manila elites moved to institute their primary language, Tagalog, as the national

language, and in the 1950s, it was renamed “Pilipino” in recognition of this status. In K-12

schools, students tend to be taught in this language,8 though Science and Math may be in English

and higher education is in English. According to Tupas and Lorente (2014), this leads to

intellectual and cultural marginalization of other linguistic groups, with formal English/Tagalog

bilingual education running alongside informal multilingual education (presumably involving

some laissez faire translanguaging).

Recent developments have offered hope for mother tongues, or at least the 8–12 main

regional languages, even though there are over a hundred indigenous languages. This has come

in the form of Mother Tongue Based Modern Language Education (MTB-MLE) in the

elementary years (Wa-Mbaleka, 2014). The other positive development is the coining of the term

“Filipino” to describe the national language in ways similar to Li and Zhu’s (2013) term “global

Chinese.” In 1973, well before the onset of postmodern linguistic theory in the West, the

Philippine National Assembly began a movement to replace Pilipino with a hybrid national

language that would serve as a vehicle for various Philippine ethnolinguistic knowledges and

practices (Tupas & Lorente, 2014). Yet the extent to which this language—“Filipino”—truly

exists, or whether it is simply Tagalog rebranded, is a controversial issue, and I do not think there

is a single truth behind the matter. In this dissertation, I use both terms, choosing “Tagalog” to

describe my heritage language, as the value behind the term Filipino does not render the word

8 This is supported by interviews with Filipino students who participated in the study, most of whom said they did not read/write as well in their home languages as in Tagalog. The exception was Kix, who received an English education in the Philippines except for Tagalog class.

28

used to describe an ethnolinguistic group, Tagalogs, obsolete. If someone were to ask me where I

am from and what languages I speak, I would answer, “I’m a Filipino-Canadian from Vancouver

who speaks English, French, and Tagalog,” but in response to “What is the national language of

the Philippines?” I would reply “Filipino” to describe language practices in the country and

diaspora, and the kind of national language Filipinos ideally should strive for. However, more

important than this terminological debate is the need to recognize how the language functions as

a hegemonic national language and a low-prestige diasporic language. When it comes to the

empirical data, I use the labels participants have used for the languages, if available.

Ethnolinguistically, the Philippines is divided into three main regions: Luzon, the

Visayas, and Mindanao. In the south (the Visayas and Mindanao), Bisaya/Visayan is the lingua

franca, though it is more commonly called Cebuano/Sebuano (which is also an ethnic identity,

and can refer to the standard form of the language). In Luzon, the northern part of the country,

two languages, Tagalog and Ilokano, dominate (Figure 4). Eighty-five percent of the population

speaks one of eight languages: Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilokano, Hiligaynon, Bikol, Samar-Leyte

(Waray), Kapampangan, and Pangasinan (McFarland, 2009). Thus, some students from

marginalized language groups in the Philippines may have needed to acquire as many as five

languages—from the home language to regionally dominant languages to Filipino and English.

29

Figure 4. Languages in the Philippines. Retrieved March 23, 2020 from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Major_Philippine_languages.png

I end this section by calling for more attention to ethnocentricity among researchers studying

bi/multilingualism. Three prominent researchers on translanguaging in education—Jim

Cummins, Ofelia García, and Li Wei—have presented models of the bi/multilingual mind most

relevant to K-12 immigrant students in Canada, Latinx K-12 students in the U.S., and Chinese

British university students in the U.K., respectively. Cummins (2005), who advocates for

pedagogical transfer across languages—the use of L1 literacy to scaffold L2 literacy—has dealt

with Canada’s ELL population, which mostly consists of white-collar Asian immigrants learning

conversational English through immersion while developing academic literacies through this

30

transfer. Dynamic bilingualism in the form of Spanglish is prevalent in New York; global

Chinese is used by young Chinese transnationals. Individual views on what bi/multilingualism

looks like, based on individual lives, play a role in theorizing about bi/multilingualism, as a

colleague and I once observed during an ethnography:

What we hoped to find went beyond the fact that translanguaging made content

accessible; deep down, each sought proof that it facilitated dual literacy development

(An) and would overturn learners’ understanding of languages as discrete entities

belonging to separate ethnic groups (Jay). Our wishes for the students reflected, to some

degree, our wishes for ourselves and our conceptualizations of the ideal Filipin@.

(Mendoza & Parba, 2018, p. 4)

In sum, the key insights and social justice affordances—as well as the theoretical limitations—of

anyone’s bi/multilingual research agenda cannot entirely be separated from its ethnocentricity

and the individual’s linguistic ideals. Greater reflexivity about this issue is warranted in any

investigation of bi/multilingual practices. In addition, researchers must exercise caution before

extrapolating one model of bi/multilingualism from one context to another. The purpose of

studying an under-studied population is to see to what extent translanguaging comes naturally to

participants when it is encouraged—how eagerly, with what level of skill, with or without

befuddlement at the encouragement of speaking multiple languages in the classroom. We must

also examine how deep the translanguaging goes, from lexical stylizations in the heritage

language despite otherwise limited proficiency in it, as in “paNTi come here and show me this

please” (Canagarajah, 2012, p. 128), to dense code-switching, in which lexical items from one

language are borrowed into the morphosyntactic structures of the other, as in: “Wala akong cash

pang grocery ngayon, if you want, bukas na lang, ipagdadrive pa kita!” [I do not have cash for

31

grocery today, if you want, tomorrow, I will even drive you there!] (Green & Abutalebi, 2013, p.

518), the latter ostensibly requiring a higher degree of proficiency in both languages. I

hypothesize that speakers of stigmatized languages who do not even have the benefit of seeing

these languages widely represented in the linguistic landscape, not in government websites and

publications, not in bilingual programs and heritage language schools, and sometimes even

avoided by their own family businesses when catering to a neighborhood clientele—will

translanguage differently from the Latinx and transnational Chinese research participants who

appear in the canonical research on translanguaging (e.g., García, & Li, 2014; Li & Zhu, 2013).

1.7 Outline of the Dissertation

In Chapter 2, I review the literature on different kinds of mixed language use in the classroom,

beginning with that which views the linguistic repertoire as integrated when students are talking

things through to learn and navigate the social life of the class (translanguaging), before moving

on to the research which analyzes discrete codes as serving different pragmatic functions (code-

switching) and that which examines codes as indexing ethnic and other social identities (self- and

other-stylization, affiliative and disaffiliative language-crossing). It is important to understand

the difference between these processes in order to investigate the study’s research questions. In

Chapter 3, I discuss the methodological framework used, Linguistic Ethnography (Copland &

Creese, 2015; Rampton, Maybin, & Roberts, 2015), the setting, participants, and methods of data

collection and analysis. In Chapter 4, I answer my first research question by describing the kinds

of mixed language use I observed in Juan’s English 9 class, which delivered the statewide 9th

grade Language Arts curriculum, and Kaori’s ESL 9/10 class, a prerequisite to grade-level

Language Arts. I noted the multilingual practices that readily arose under a laissez faire language

policy, and those that did not occur to participants as readily, suggesting the need for deliberate

32

intervention. In Chapters 5 and 6, I answer my second research question on why students benefit

from or experience challenges with translanguaging under a laissez faire language policy. More

specifically, in Chapter 5, I examine differences in translanguaging between linguistic minorities

and majorities: Ilokano L1 speakers in English 9 and Filipino students who spoke various

Philippine languages in ESL 9/10, using Filipino as a lingua franca.9 In Chapter 6, which deals

with individual differences such as those between newcomers and resident multilinguals, I

analyze how educational preparation and relative length of time spent growing up in different

countries impacts the funds of knowledge each student brings and the forms of language and

culture they affiliate with. In Chapter 7, I summarize the findings, discuss implications for

pedagogy, and comment on both the limitations of the study and directions for future research.

9 Ilokano is the most common language spoken by Filipino students at the school and statewide.

33

CHAPTER 2

LITERATURE REVIEW

2.1 Types of Mixed Language Use in Classroom Interaction

The purpose of this chapter is to outline various types of multilingual talk an ethnographer can

hear in a classroom—not all of which indicate the deployment of an integrated language

repertoire “without regard for watchful adherence to the socially and politically defined

boundaries of named (and usually national and state) languages” (Otheguy et al., 2015, p. 283,

italics in original). In other words, not all multilingual classroom talk is translanguaging, as

García, Li, and Otheguy define it in quotes like the one above (e.g., García & Li, 2014; Li,

2017). There are a range of bi/multilingual oral practices that can be found in classrooms, some

of which reflect an integrated language repertoire while others reflect the use of distinct codes. I

deal with many of them in this study, although the study does not deal with all possible types of

multilingual language use in a class. For example, deliberate bi/multilingual pedagogy is not its

focus. Nor does it deal with translingual literacy practices, such as code-meshing in multilingual,

multimodal texts (Canagarajah, 2011a, 2011b).10 I focus here on spontaneous multilingual oral

10 Canagarajah (2011a, 2011b) cites Young (2004) as having used the term “code-meshing” before he did, though I have noticed that they use it in different ways. Young, an African-American scholar, refers to how it is virtually impossible for speakers of multiple dialects of the same language (e.g., Black English Vernacular and White English Vernacular) to separate them. The expectation that one should separate them leads to cultural essentialization and racialization, and the marginalization of those who do not fit stereotypes—such as scholars like him who are neither White enough for the academy, nor Black/masculine enough for the “ghetto” (Young, 2004, p. 693). Canagarajah, who writes about teaching academic writing to international and multilingual students in the U.S., describes teaching them code-meshing, which may be unfamiliar to them if they have largely experienced one-language-at-a-time educational contexts. Thus, Canagarajah describes fostering code-meshing where it has not been adequately cultivated, while Young describes permitting it where it has been suppressed—it should not be seen as inferior to a “pure” dialect or language, similar to how García (2009) describes translanguaging. That said, Canagarajah has also written extensively on World Englishes and translanguaging with views similar to García’s and Young’s.

34

interactions when students deal with subject content that is officially English monolingual. Four

phenomena are described in this literature review, and I return to these in the chapter that

responds to the first research question, “What kinds of multilingual language use can be heard in

high school English classes where non-English languages are permitted but not part of official

pedagogical practices?” I organize these phenomena into two groups, one involving integrated

language repertoires and the other distinct codes, which can both be described under the

umbrella term “translanguaging” (Figure 5).

Figure 5 Types of Mixed Language Use in Oral Classroom Interactions11

11 It is important to note that in other research, particulary in psycholinguistics, the overarching term for language mixing is code-switching (e.g., Green & Li, 2014; Grosjean, 2001). Note, for example, Li Wei’s use of the term code-switching in the collaboration with D. W. Green on how the social context instigates different types of bilingual functioning—from complete suppression of all but one language, to dynamic switching between languages in the same conversation, to “dense code-switching” in which lexical items in each language are borrowed to fulfill the morphosyntactic operations of the other.

35

Use of an integrated repertoire and use of distinct codes are further divided into more specific

types of mixed language use. When it comes to integrated repertoires, a distinction must be made

between (1) translanguaging-to-learn (Swain & Lapkin, 2002), defined as talking aloud to

mediate cognition and problem-solve, and (2) ludic translanguaging/polylanguaging as

conceptualized by Jørgensen (2008), Li (2011a), and Møller (2008), which speaks to “social

activities like performances, entertainment, identity negotiation, power struggles etc.” (Møller,

2008, p. 235). On the other hand, when people orient to languages as distinct codes, they could

be (1) code-switching to signal shifts in topic, task, addressee, etc. (Auer, 1998; Filipi & Markee,

2018; Goffman, 2001), which I call code-switching for pragmatic purposes or to organize social

activity, or (2) trying to tell others something about their identities or their current affective

states, as seen in studies on self- and other- stylization (e.g., Lamb, 2015; Johnstone, 2007;

Sandhu, 2015) and language crossing (Rampton, 1995, 2011a, 2011b), which involves the

appropriation of languages not from one’s ethnolinguistic background. I discuss each of the parts

of Figure 5 in more detail in this chapter, with examples mainly from K-12 classrooms.

2.2 Translanguaging-to-Learn

In a study of French immersion students in English-speaking Canada, Swain and Lapkin (2002)

noted that students verbalized their thoughts to make these apparent to each other and learn

through dialogue. Since the class was a language class, this dialogue often involved

confrontation and resolution of language-related problems. In the example below, two 7th

graders, Dara and Nina, were writing a simple story and trying to figure out whether “she leaves

the house” should be “elle sort du maison” or “elle sort de la maison.”12

12 When presenting data from other studies in this chapter, I use the researchers’ transcription conventions with minor adaptations.

36

Excerpt 2. “Talking it Through” (Swain & Lapkin, 2002, p. 295)

1 Nina: OK, elle… vingt minutes plus tard elle sort du maison. Elle sort de la maison? Ou du maison?

OK, she… twenty minutes later she left the house. She left de la house? Or du house?

2 Dara: De, non, du

De, no, du

3 Nina: Non, parce que de la c’est du

No, because [for] la it’s du

4 Dara: Oui

Yes

5 Nina: sort du maison … sort … en courant

Left the house … left … while running

6 Dara: sort du maison…

left the house…

When Dara and Nina were interviewed about this episode, they talked about the problem in

English and French, unlike in the activity when they used French exclusively to try to solve it,

suggesting alignment with the target-language-only norms of French immersion class:

Excerpt 3. Stimulated Recall of “Talking it Through” (Swain & Lapkin, 2002, p. 295)

1 Researcher: OK so de la maison and du maison.

2 Dara: uh, it could have been any way.

3 Nina: it has to do with du, de la. I remember when we were first writing it.

4 Dara: Yeah.

5 Nina: and we went like “is it either du or de la?” And we agreed that it was du but I don’t know [laughs]

6 Dara: I don’t think I can remember it exactly, but

7 Nina: Yeah, sometimes it’s like de la? Isn’t it de la equal du? I don’t know.

37

Swain and Lapkin (2002) argue that explicit discussion of language points is a key driver of

learning grammar, something that the classroom environment is especially apt to trigger. Rather

than the teacher teaching the grammar, it is something the learners have to puzzle through

themselves. Whether or not they come to the right answer (and the researchers found that 80% of

Dara and Nina’s reformulations were correct), “this intermental process of ‘talking it through’

mediated internalization such that each learner could individually draw on the knowledge they

had previously jointly constructed” (p. 298). Swain and Watanabe (2012) explain how this

process is related to Vygotsky’s sociocultural theory of learning:

The concept of languaging derives from Vygotsky’s work which demonstrated the

critical role language plays in mediating cognitive processes. Language and thought are

not the same thing; in fact, Vygotsky argued that language ‘completes thought.’ … The

verb languaging forces us to understand language as a process rather than as an object.

(p. 1)13

Although Dara and Nina appeared to try to speak French only in their French class to figure out

the language rules, teachers can also encourage students to use multiple languages together from

time to time to develop this kind of metalinguistic awareness, as in the following dialogue from

García-Mateus and Palmer (2017). This dialogue is from the same first grade class in Texas that

Excerpt 1 came from (Palmer et al., 2014). The discussion is triggered when one student notices

how his classmate’s name is pronounced differently in English and Spanish:

Excerpt 4. “It Sounds Like a /H/” (García-Mateus & Palmer, 2017, p. 251)

1 Ray: Like, Josué’s name starts with a G, but it’s /H/ [vocalizes the English “h” sound].

13 I understand Vygotsky here to mean that language is not the mere expression of your thoughts. Rather, the process of verbalizing your thoughts helps you complete ideas that would otherwise be unfinished, and talking things through with others is the basis of learning.

38

2 Ms. J: … with a J.

3 Ray: … but it has to do with a /H/.

4 Ms. J: I’m sorry?

5 Ray: … in Josué’s name. It’s a J in his name, but it sounds like a /H/.

6 Ms. J: It does sound like an H, right. You’re right.

In the “de la” versus “du” example (Excerpt 2), Dara and Nina were discussing what was correct

but did not discuss why (i.e., “maison” is feminine), but Ray in Excerpt 4 above seems closer to

figuring out the explanation for why the form is the way it is, i.e., J=/H/ in Spanish. At the same

time, it is unclear whether “Josué” belongs to English, Spanish, or both. Without the teacher

pointing the students to target language, more open-ended activities like storytelling and class

discussions can lead students to translanguage given what currently strikes them as interesting.

Note that translanguaging-to-learn about forms does not solely have to do with learning

gender agreement (Excerpt 2) or pronunciation rules (Excerpt 4), but can become ideological. To

illustrate, I provide an example from a study a colleague and I did in a 300-level Filipino class

with mostly heritage learners. In Excerpt 5, students were working on a composition in groups

when one asked the instructor, my co-researcher, to translate a word from English to Filipino.

Excerpt 5. “Pambubully” (Mendoza & Parba, 2018, pp. 8-9)

1 Arthur: Kuya! – Kuya…Kuyaaa. Is there a word for bullying in Tagalog?

2 Jay: Pambubully.

3 Arthur: Pambubully.

4 Papa P: What!

5 Jay: Teka nga. Hanapin ko nga.

Wait a minute. Let me look it up.

6 An: Tinutukso?

Teasing?

39

7 Jay: Tinutukso is actually….

8 Student: How ‘bout mananakot?

9 Jay: No! Bullying has a lot of other connotations, besides—

10 Arthur: Pambubully ha ha

11 Jay: You cannot say pananakot (correcting infinitive), it doesn’t capture—you cannot say panunukso (correcting infinitive), it doesn’t capture everything.

12 Kevin: That’s only one aspect of it.

13 Jay: Yeah, so pambubully it captures everything, right? So ngayon [in that case], pambubully.

14 Arthur: Pambubully.

The first interesting event in this dialogue is the student Papa P’s exclamation (‘What!’) on

hearing this English word inflected according to Malayo-Polynesian morphology (l. 4). She is

not the only one who expresses disbelief; Arthur repeats the word five times, laughing the fourth

time, as if trying to get used to it. Two “purely” Filipino words are suggested by me (l. 6) and an

unidentifiable student (p. 8), as we seek a translation that is not a borrowed English word, but

these are imperfect suggestions and do not capture the complexity of bullying, as the instructor

Jay points out (l. 9), to Kevin’s agreement (l. 12). By ending the discussion with ‘So ngayon [in

that case], pambubully,’ Jay legitimates the validity of hybrid utterances (Li, 2011b; Li & Zhu,

2013) and the negotiability of language norms. Indeed, Borg (1994) argues that “talking it

through” combined with the open-endedness of the discussion is what leads to real language

awareness—to become linguistically aware, learners must be involved in an investigation of

language as a dynamic phenomenon rather than a body of facts, engaged not only on a cognitive

but on an affective level. Moreover, they must be analyzing language somewhat independently

of teacher guidance, even though the teacher may offer guidance when students do not seem to

notice the reason behind a form (Excerpt 2), or push students to reconsider attitudes towards

40

language evolution and mixing (Excerpt 5). In this way, students internalize not only target

language through collaborative talk, but new stances towards “the functioning of languages and

language in general” (Hélot & Young, 2005, p. 252) and the ability to “construct useful

meanings from perceptions of them” (Horner, Lu, Royster & Trimbur, 2011, p. 308).

2.3 Ludic Translanguaging

Ludic translanguaging, observed among university students in the U.K. (Li & Zhu, 2013) and

elementary schoolers in Denmark (Jørgensen, 2008), does not specifically involve languaging

about language in order to puzzle things through and learn, but communicating more broadly in

often playful ways. It tends to occur among participants who have shared multilingual resources

as well as friendship bonds. This social translanguaging does not necessarily need to contradict

class activities and learning aims—in fact, it can complement them. In Excerpt 6 from Jørgensen

(2008), four 5th graders are finding pictures of places around the world and gluing them onto a

map (Danish in recte, Turkish in italics, English underlined, glosses provided below):

Excerpt 6. “Are You Finish?” (Jørgensen, 2008, pp. 170-171)

1 Ali: hej benim kartıma bakar mısınız

hey will you look at my card

2 Esen: o zaman söyle kes ya det skal ikke [//] det fylder meget

in that case cut it like this it is not [//] it is quite big

3 Ali: Erol bak benim kartım güzel değil mi

Erol isn’t my card nice

4 Erol: bakayım # arkasına

let me have a look # on the back

5 Selma: kesti

he has cut

41

6 Esen: Italien

Italy

7 Ali: şurdan vardı bende koparttım gitti

I had one of these I tore it

8 Erol: şeye sokarsın denersin olur # paran olur o zaman xxx

you can put it into that one you can try # then you will have money xxx

9 Selma: kopart xxx

cut it off xxx

10 Ali: nej shit mand Jackpot hele verden

no shit man Jackpot all over the world

11 Esen: (sings) Jackpot takes you there dadadadidu

12 Selma: hele verden

all the world

13 Erol: are you finish

First, Ali proposes a picture to include (l. 1), which Esen rejects (l. 2). Ali then asks for Erol’s

support and gets it (ll. 3-4), but Selma agrees with Esen (l. 5) and Ali gives up. In line 10, Ali

finds an advertisement for an airline, with the slogan “Jackpot takes you there,” and reads it out.

This triggers immediate alignment from the others; Esen sings the tune of the commercial (l. 11)

and Selma repeats part of the slogan (l. 12). In line 13, Erol recites a line from a different

commercial, “Are you finish?” In this commercial, a shop assistant asks this question to a

customer, who misunderstands and replies, “No, I am Danish.” The line from the second

commercial is also applicable to the children’s activity, creating a double meaning.

The selection of linguistic resources in ludic translanguaging is not accidental; people

draw on bits and pieces of language for the communicative potential they carry, and language

distinctions exist only at certain moments, such as the mimicry of English in advertising in the

42

excerpt directly above. However, “The distinctions [if applicable] between different sets of

linguistic features are not given in advance but negotiated in the local context interplaying with a

range of other linguistic resources” (Møller, 2008, p. 235).

In addition, ludic translanguaging can involve the use of context-specific neologisms that

can be difficult to categorize as belonging to one language or another, as in the following excerpt

from Ritzau and Madsen (2019). In this activity, three German L1 university students in a

beginner Danish class are doing a gap-fill task in which they are looking at different versions of

the same picture of a zoo. Each person’s picture lacks some animals and they have to tell each

other where the missing animals are in each other’s pictures to practice directions. The ludic

translanguaging in this dialogue (the coining of the English-influenced Danish neologisms

“papabjørn” and “mamabjørn”) to get the task done shows that ludic translanguaging is not

necessarily off-task:

Excerpt 7. “Papabjørn” (Ritzau and Madsen, 2019, p. 209)

1 B007: måske står de oven på ha papabjørnen

perhaps they are on top of ha daddy bear

2 B005: <oven på papabjørn ha>

<on top of daddy bear ha>

3 B012: <ha papabjørn ha> [<] eller er det mamabjørn

<ha daddy bear ha> [<] or is it mama bear

In contrast to translanguaging-to-learn about target language, Ritzau and Madsen (2019)

emphasize that the groupmates do not identify “papabjørn/mamabjørn” as “target language”—it

is unlikely that they will transfer them to contexts in which the language people recognize as

Danish is used. However, the terms may reappear as an inside joke, part of the group repertoire.

43

Li (2011a) shows how ludic translanguaging between friends can turn into societal

commentary, giving ludic translanguaging an ideological dimension just as translanguaging-to-

learn can have this dimension. The following excerpt comes from an interview with three

university-aged male friends; Li had just asked them about their plans after graduation.

Excerpt 8. “Bái Lǐng Gŏu” (Li, 2011a, p. 1226)

1 Chris:

In future I will work as a “bái lǐng gŏu” [white-collar dog], working for someone’s company!

2 (Lawson and Roland both laugh)

3 Roland: You are already bilingual!

4 Lawson: Good one!

5 Chris: That’s what I mean.

Li notes that Chris appeared to create the pun “bái lǐng gŏu/bilingual” on the spur of the moment.

Although he did not hear the group use it again, it made an impression on him, and he believes

the others would also remember it. There is a critical edge to the suggestion that people who

want to get white-collar jobs have to learn languages not out of choice but out of necessity—but

the moment passes and the extent to which it affects the young men’s future ideological stances

is unknown. Jaspers (2018) observes that “Translanguaging (as pedagogy and practice) is

suggested to result in new subjectivities, to give back voice… and eventually to transform an

unequal society into a more just world” (p. 3). Thus, he suggests that much value has been added

to the term as it has become a buzzword in education. Nevertheless, I agree with Otheguy et al.

(2015) that if monolingual students can use their entire linguistic repertoires to learn and

navigate the social life of the class (barring resources which are interpersonally inappropriate),

bi/multilingual students should be allowed to do so as well—even if the broader societal

outcomes are hard to measure, there is no question as to what teachers should encourage.

44

To sum up the discussion of translanguaging, or using an integrated language repertoire to

talk things through, learn, and communicate, I make the following points:

1. Translanguaging is a sociocognitive process of taking things through that dissolves the

boundaries between named languages. It can support learning, with the focus of talk

ranging from more cognitive (Excerpt 2) to more social (Excerpt 8)—but since

participants are engaged both affectively and intellectually, it is often hard to separate “on

task” talk from social talk.

2. In an educational setting, the purpose of translanguaging can be to focus attention on

target forms (Excerpt 2), to develop metalinguistic awareness (Excerpts 4 and 5), to

connect a learning activity to out-of-school knowledge (Excerpt 6), or to provoke

divergent perspectives (Excerpt 7).

3. Students can switch between the activities mentioned in #2 above rapidly and seamlessly,

just as they switch quickly between orientation to languages as integrated or distinct. (See

lines 10 and 11 of Excerpt 6, where the Danglish phrase “nej shit mand,” which

integrates Danish and English to say “no shit man,” is quickly followed by an utterance

solely in English, “jackpot takes you there,” in which the distinct code “English” indexes

the language of advertising.)

In the next section, I turn to code-switching, the use of—and orientation to—languages as

distinct codes, for pragmatic purposes and with reference to ethnolinguistic group identities.

2.4 Code-Switching to Organize Activity

In a bilingual speech community, it is common for people to mix languages as if selecting

“elements from a continuous system” (Urciuoli, 1985, p. 383). This is different from code-

switching, in which language shifts are interactionally salient and have social import. Auer

45

(1998), who uses the term code-switching in the way that it will be used in this dissertation,

provides the following illustrative example, involving a call to a taxi station in Spain:

Excerpt 9. Code-Switching (Auer, 1998, p. 14)

1 T: Taxi station. (accent neutral)

2 C: Hi, we’d like a taxi here at 200 Main Street. (Galizan Spanish)

3 T: At 200 Main Street? (Standard Spanish)

4 C: Yeah, here next to ‘The Farm’ café. (accent mixed)

5 T: At the Farm? (Galizan Spanish)

6 C: Yes. (accent neutral)

7 T: OK, Taxi 143 will be going that way in a minute. (Galizan Spanish)

8 C: Eh? (accent neutral; point of miscommunication)

9 T: Taxi 143 will be going that way in a minute. (Standard Spanish)

10 C: Oh, OK. Thanks. (accent neutral)

11 T: Bye. (accent neutral)

In this dialogue, Auer maintains that the only code switch occurs when C does not understand

T’s statement in Galizan Spanish (l. 8), leading T to say it again in Standard Spanish (l. 9). When

code-switching, interlocutors attribute meaning to linguistic shifts. Thus, code-switching co-

occurs with a shift in footing (Goffman, 1974, 2001), such as changes in tone, topic, addressee,

phase of the conversation, or framing of the activity (e.g., from communication to repair in

Excerpt 9). An example of code-switching in the classroom, from Hong Kong, is given by Lin

(2013):

Teacher: (in English) Close all your textbook and class workbook. (in Cantonese) There

are some classmates not back yet. Be quick! (in English) Now, any problem about the

class work? (R. Johnson, as cited in Lin, 2013, p. 200; original Cantonese not provided)

46

The aside about hurrying up, Lin observes, could have been achieved without a switch into

Cantonese, such as a change in tone of voice. Why then use Cantonese? Lin argues that only a

switch into students’ L1 would have relayed the message’s urgency and the teacher’s annoyance,

tempered by the informal tone carried by the code in this context. That is, only Cantonese would

have achieved all the social meanings the teacher wanted to achieve simultaneously.

When code-switching happens in classrooms, reasons may include the teacher redirecting

attention to specific addressees (Goffman, 2001), students signaling alignment or disalignment

with each other or with the teacher’s instruction (Li, 2011b; Üstünel & Seedhouse, 2005),

shifting in and out of different tasks (Cromdal, 2005), or negotiating the medium of interaction

(Bonacina-Pugh, 2012). According to Filipi and Markee (2018), code-switches indicate

transition moments, and “it is at transition points that important interactional work takes place”

(p. 7). For example, in Excerpt 10, a Swedish secondary student, Hanna, code-switches into

English to recognize that the class is starting.

Excerpt 10. “We Are to Going Start” (Musk & Cromdal, 2018, p. 17)

1

2

Hanna: *SW

*EN

((turns round)) HÅLLA SKA NI SÄGA TILL NÄR VI::,

excuse me are you going to say when we

WE ARE [GOING] TO START

3 Teacher: [I] (0.7) YOU CAN START YUP GET BUSY YEP YOU CAN (.) GET [BUSY] NOW

4 Hanna: [oh::?]

Hanna begins her question in Swedish, then in anticipation of the lesson realizes that she should

switch to English, prolonging the “VI” (“WE”) that marks the transition between the two

languages, while the teacher, in overlapping talk, confirms that class has begun in English.

When students are allowed to draw on other languages in an officially monolingual class,

they can often be heard planning the language for presentations or essays in their first or more

47

fluent languages. This can be seen in the following dialogue from Cromdal’s (2005) study of a

secondary EFL class in Sweden. Two female students are looking at a diagram of a Victorian

house and writing a paragraph in English of what the house looks like.

Excerpt 11. Collaborative Writing in an EFL Class (Cromdal, 2005, p. 339)

1 Ebba: they had =

2 Lara: ((turning to face the keyboard, writing)) =the:y [ha:d

3 Ebba: ((turning to the screen)) [>they had<

or they had fifteen different rooms they=

4 Lara: =nej ahmmmost of the houses had many rooms like fifteen

5 Ebba: no

6 Lara: (1.5) ((facing Ebba)) or [so

7 Ebba: ((headshake) ((facing Lara)) [ä↓ähä inte like fifteen

[u↓hu not like fifteen

8 Lara: nää >skivi< scriva

ºnooº >should we< write

The exchange begins with perfect agreement as Ebba and Lara echo each other regarding what to

write in English, Lara typing their composition on the computer. When Ebba continues, “they

had fifteen different rooms” (l. 3), Lara takes issue with this, saying “no” in Swedish and

proposing an alternative formulation that makes clear that “fifteen” is the number of rooms a

typical house had, not that every house had exactly fifteen rooms (l. 4). However, her

reformulation, “like fifteen,” is too colloquial, prompting Ebba’s “no” (l. 5) in English and

causing the girls to face each other. Ebba says, “ä↓ähä inte like fifteen” (l. 7) [u↓huh not “like

fifteen”], framing the problematic English phrase in a Swedish evaluation. Lara then continues

the planning in Swedish, with the phrase “nää >skivi< scriva” [“Should we write…?”].

48

It is possible that the girls could manage the entire interaction in English with no major

limitations, but use of Swedish likely makes task completion more efficient and highlights the

target language more. Code-switching into Swedish also lets them work out complex

interpersonal interactions, some of which involve disagreement, in their stronger language.

Interestingly, teacher-initiated code-switching seems to occur for many of the same

reasons as student-initiated code-switching—such as languaging about the target language in L1

or managing interpersonal relations in everyone’s stronger language, in a class where most to all

students share the same L1. In the dialogue below, from a beginner-level EFL university class in

Turkey, the teacher deploys both Turkish and English to frame target language and do classroom

management. This dialogue occurs in the middle of a discussion about skiing:

Excerpt 12. Teacher Code-Switching in an EFL Class (Üstünel & Seedhouse, 2005)

1 T: will you ski there?

2 S3: I want to ski

3 T: do you know how to?

4 S3: yes

5

6

T: *TR (2.0)

bi soralım buna nasıl öğrendi?

let’s ask him how did he learn?

(2.0)

nasıl öğrendin?

How did you learn?

7 S10: how do you learn to ski?

8 T: how?

9 S10: how do you learn to ski?

10 T: did you

49

11 S10: how did you learn to ski?

12 S3: uhm my uncle (0.5) in nineteen eighty four

After establishing that S3 knows how to ski (ll. 1-4), the teacher opts not to continue the

conversation as a one-on-one but invites others to join in. In line 5, she switches to Turkish to

say, “let’s ask him how did he learn?” which is a signal for the other students to ask the question

themselves in English, and also a “heads up” to S3 as to what he is about to be asked. S10 acts

upon the teacher’s cue, asking S3 “how do you learn to ski?”, but forgets to put the verb in past

tense, leading to the teacher’s correction (ll. 9-11). The correction takes the form of a recast in

English, “how did you learn to ski?” which makes it subtle (i.e., it could seem as if she is merely

joining in to ask S3 how he learned to ski) but perceivable for S10, who promptly fixes the error

(l. 11). S3, having taken the time to formulate a response while the teacher and S10 were

negotiating the form of the question, gives his reply (l. 12). The teacher’s code-switches do not

indicate that English is pedagogical and Turkish interpersonal, but that the range of functions

each language serves can be multiplied when they are juxtaposed with each other.

Another function of code-switching is to negotiate the language of communication in a

bi/multilingual group. Bonacina-Pugh (2012) investigated this function in a “pull out”

elementary French-as-a-Second-Language class in France with 12 students aged 6–11 who spoke

eight home languages among themselves (French, English, Spanish, Peul, Japanese, Polish,

Lithuanian, and Arabic), with three languages (English, Spanish, and Peul, a language from

Senegal) shared between two or more children—five spoke Spanish, four spoke English, and two

spoke Peul. Given this linguistic diversity, students tended to orient to French monolingualism in

mixed language groups not only because French was the official classroom language, but

because French was the language shared by all group members. In the excerpt below, recorded

50

when two Spanish L1 speakers (Maia, Andrea) and an English L1 speaker (Matilda) were

drawing together, Matilda reminds them of the French language norm:

Excerpt 13. “Dessine en Française” (Bonacina-Pugh, 2012, p. 229)

1 Andrea: *SP ah yo no se como dibujar

ah I don’t know how to draw

2 Maia: *SP colorer:: un:: –

I’m drawing:: a:: –

3 Matilda:*FR dessine en française!

draw in French!

4 Maia: *SP frances

5

Matilda: *SP =fr::ances!

French!

6 Maia: *FR pas cool

not cool

7 Matilda:*FR je sais pas comment on dessine!

I don’t know how to draw!

8 Andrea: *FR moi je suis forte mais ça ne marche pas

Me I’m good but it doesn’t work

The dialogue begins with Andrea and Maia talking to each other in their L1, Spanish (ll. 1-2).

Without any explicit rationale, but in a voice reminiscent of the teacher, Miss Lo, who

sometimes corrected students for using non-French languages, Matilda commands them in

French to “draw in French” (l. 3). Maia then says “Frances” (l. 4) (“French” in Spanish), which

Matilda repeats, in an imperious tone, emphasizing that they need to speak “Frances” (l. 5). Maia

seems to protest with the phrase “pas cool” (“not cool”) (l. 6), but Matilda offers a change of

subject—and a distractor—with the comment in French that she is struggling with her drawing

(l. 7). Andrea aligns with this, admitting in French that she is struggling with hers as well (l. 8).

51

Dialogues such as the one in Excerpt 13 point to the negotiability of classroom language

policy, in ways that index individual students’ ethnolinguistic identities or wider societal

discourses about language policy and planning. In other words, pragmatic code-switching, like

translanguaging-to-learn and ludic translanguaging, does not have to be, but can become,

“ideological”—highlighting issues such as the role of mother tongues in relation to the national

language (e.g., celebration of mother tongues versus inclusion of all students through the national

language), access to dominant varieties of the national language, or the continued use of a former

colonial language in schools (Martin-Jones & Heller, 1996, p. 4). Additionally, it is unclear

whether teachers and students are even considering translanguaging as a possibility.

The ways in which participants code-switch can also be traced to different political

stances regarding students’ home languages. For example, in a study of nursery schools (with

children aged 4–5) in a blue-collar English town where most students were of Indian or Pakistani

origin, Martin-Jones and Saxena (1996) investigated the interactional identity positioning of

bilingual educational aides. They discovered that the English monolingual teachers perceived

these aides solely as translators while they, as classroom teachers, orchestrated the learning

activities. Detailed analysis of code-switches showed aides positioned in marginal ways; usually,

the teacher would say something to the class in English and the aide would translate what she

said into Panjabi or Urdu, directed to the “ESL students.” Thus, even though students’ languages

were brought to bear on learning, interactions emphasized bi/multilingual aides’ subordination to

monolingual teachers. Bi/multilingualism was represented in classrooms as assistance for

students struggling with English (like adaptation for learners with special needs). This

marginalization of the aides prevented them from exercising their cultural knowledge; for

example, they knew which students were linguistic minorities in the mainly-Panjabi schools

52

(Urdu speakers from Pakistan, or Gujarati and Urdu speakers from the Gujarat region of India).

In small group discussions, some aides used Urdu to create a welcoming space for students who

were minorities-in-a-minority (Excerpt 14), whereas English monolingual teachers could not tell

one South Asian language from another:

Excerpt 14. Trilingual Educational Aide (Martin-Jones & Saxena, 2003, pp. 272-273)

Mrs. Anwar: ãkkhaã vand kariye. te anheraa ho=. aaj Mrs T dassegii: saanuũ ke <E> light jeRii heggii aa. O kis taraã bal dii aa. kis taraã bujdii aa.. taar kii hondii aa.. <E> [vallab] kii hondaa e. hum .. Suhail Thiik se baiThoo.. aaj hamne kaunse? rang siikhete .. subhaa kaun kaun? se <E> colour dekhete?

P = Panjabi, E = English, U = Urdu

Translation: If we close our eyes, it {becomes=} dark. Mrs T will tell us how light comes on, how it goes off, what a wire is, {and} what a bulb is. OK? (switches from Punjabi to Urdu) Suhail sit properly. What colours did we learn today? What colours did we see in the morning?

Presenting key terms in English (“light,” “bulb,” “color”), addressing the group in Panjabi, but

switching to Urdu for Suhail, Mrs. Anwar shows “an intimate knowledge of the children’s

language preferences and experiences” (p. 273). In addition, bilingual educational aides were

able to understand why some content confused students. For example, on one occasion, Ms.

Khan, a young Panjabi aide, took a long speaking turn in Panjabi to explain what a pipe was

during a lesson about snowmen after children had trouble identifying what was in the snowmen’s

mouths (p. 278). Martin-Jones and Saxena (2003) argue that aides were not “bilingual resources”

but “resourceful bilingual practitioners,” as their code-switches went beyond translation, making

pedagogical links between home, community, and school-based funds of knowledge. However,

aides had few opportunities to plan how they would coordinate this instruction with teachers.

Such research shows that even if bilingual support appears in educational policy and

bilingual aides are hired, how teachers and the aides orchestrate code-switching in classrooms

involves identity positioning. Researchers have also observed patterns in the functional use of

53

different codes. For example, in Asker and Martin Jones’ (2013) study of a secondary school

EFL class in Libya, where teachers and students spoke Berber as L1, Arabic (the national

language), and English, teachers code-switched between Arabic and English (reading aloud and

giving directions in English and elaborating in Arabic), though they avoided Berber while

teaching. In contrast, students used Berber mostly in “off-stage” interactions (e.g., small group

tasks) and only rarely in “on-stage” whole class interactions. This is not to imply that there was

zero translanguaging, but that the use of different languages in the classroom can reflect societal

diglossia.14

What I have so far discussed shows that translanguaging and code-switching can become

implicitly linked to students’ ethnolinguistic and class-based identities on certain occasions. In

the last third of this chapter, I address multilingual talk that indicates deliberate and explicit

identity negotiation with reference to macro-level ideologies. This comes in the form of (1) self-

and other-stylization and (2) language crossing. In the latter, speakers draw on recognizable

codes not necessarily from their backgrounds to construct identity, affect and stance.

2.5 Multilingual Talk as Identity Negotiation

2.5.1 Self- and Other-Stylization

Stylization is defined as a somewhat exaggerated, knowing deployment of culturally familiar

linguistic resources that deviate from those typically expected in the current speaking context

(Coupland, 2001). In a study on self-stylization, Canagarajah (2012) investigated how youth in

the Sri Lankan Tamil diaspora in Canada, Britain and the U.S. constructed their ethnic identities

even when their proficiencies in their heritage language were limited, drawing on receptive (if

14 In this situation, participants’ code-switching suggests that they fulfilled social expectations: teachers took up their official roles in Arabic and English, while students used Berber with peers (presumably, speaking only official languages with peers would be read as snobbish).

54

not productive) skills and the use of certain Tamil words. As Vishi, a teenage girl from

California, explained:

With most of my my Tamil friends, I’ll call them paNTi [pig], but that’s actually their

name, a term of endearment almost, you know. Like “paNTi come here and show me this

please,” like that. With them it is always Tamil things here and there, especially for inside

jokes and stuff. … It’s funny because even with my White friends, if I get mad at them or

something, I’ll say, “You panTi, are you that bad?” And they go, “What?” (p. 128)

Even if Vishi and other ethnically Tamil youth could not converse in their heritage language,

uttering certain Tamil words in the presence of non-Tamil acquaintances built in-group

solidarity, which Vishi referred to as “inside jokes” that served to distinguish these youth as

Tamil users. In addition to language knowledge, these youth displayed cultural knowledge, as

shown by one boy, Raju, saying to his grandmother: “Hi, caniyan. Where’s my cooRu [rice]?”

(pp. 124). His nickname for his grandmother comes from the name for Saturn (“Cani”), which

means misfortune in Hindu astrology—an insult typically used for those who are unlucky or evil.

In her reply (“ankai meeseelai irukku, pooi paaRum” / It’s over there on the table. Go and see; p.

125), the grandmother did not treat the term as an insult, accepting her grandson’s attempts at

bonding. Canagarajah (2012) observed, “Perhaps she is mildly amused, and even appreciative,

that her grandson is using Tamil words to establish rapport with her” (p. 125). Canagarajah also

found through interviews with this family that the children in general used “caniyan” to address

their elders. He highlights that self-stylization goes beyond most forms of ludic language

performance to show deep emotional investment in a Tamil identity: the youth in his study

needed to establish their place in their families and communities, with solidarity, esteem, power

55

and status at stake. Behind all the playfulness, there were serious functions of legitimation and

distinction (from non-members of their ethnolinguistic group) in their use of Tamil.

Bucholtz and Hall (2005) speak to the relationality principle in stylization, in which

identities are constructed according to a sliding dichotomy of sameness versus difference. For

example, a person not typically seen to belong to an ethnic category may still be ratified as

“close enough” by others. In a study by Auer and Dirim (2003), adolescent immigrants to

Germany who were not Turkish shared Turkish language and culture amongst themselves

because Turks were the majority immigrant group who synecdochially symbolized non-German-

ness. In order for sameness to be ratified, its opposite—difference—must be drawn upon. That is,

in-group belonging through linguistic self-stylization is constructed through a deliberate contrast

with those who cannot or do not style themselves in this way.

This brings the discussion to other-stylization, which is not necessarily derogatory or

disaffiliative. In an ethnographic study of a middle school teacher in Hawai‘i from the

continental U.S., Lamb (2015) showed that the teacher, Mr. Cal, used Hawai‘i Creole (Pidgin) to

build rapport with his students when it was interactionally appropriate to do so. This could be

seen in a lesson on literary devices, when Mr. Cal explained the device of sarcasm (Excerpt 15).

Excerpt 15. Sarcasm (Lamb, 2015, pp. 17-18)

1 Mr. Cal: sarcastic, the author’s being sarcastic, so go ahead and label that sarcasm. S-A-R-C-A-S-M ((spelling out each letter)) sar(.)casm (0.2) I’m sarcastic with you guys all the time. Like when you go—when I come back and I obviously just brought back food from Kentucky Fried Chicken and you say to me mista (.) we ↑you ↓it kentucky ↑fried ↓chicken? [Mister, where did you eat, Kentucky Fried Chicken?] and I go no (.) Burger King.

2 Students: ((laughter))

3 Mr. Cal I’m being sarcastic.

56

During such moments of play, Mr. Cal’s students welcomed his inauthentic use of Hawai‘i

Creole, recognizing it as an attempt at HC even though it was not accurate (which is what seems

to be the case when he says “we” instead of “wea” for “where”). Mr. Cal did not (and probably

could not) conduct conversations in HC, nor did he claim to speak this language; in Excerpt 15,

there are clear distinctions between “his” voice and that of the hypothetical student.

There are also acts of disaffiliative and derogatory other-stylization, which often occur in

the others’ absence rather than their presence. From this position of relatively unchallenged

discursive power, Sandhu (2015) notes that “the stylizer has the freedom to highlight certain

aspects of the other’s language, ignore others and also to add elements which might not be

present in the ‘real’ speech being emulated” (p. 215). In a study that spanned several trips to

India over seven years (2005-2012), she conducted interviews with 34 women from diverse

socioeconomic backgrounds to examine how they constructed the impact of English- or Hindi-

medium education on their lives. Often, she noticed that women who were educated in English

negatively stylized Hindi-medium educated English speakers, as in Excerpt 16 (P = Sandhu).

Excerpt 16. “Unaccented English” (Sandhu, 2015, p. 220)

1 P: do you think that (.) the schools you studied in helped ↑you

2 G: they had a background.

3 P: ↑how

4 G: at least (.) like the way I speak my English you know like (1.0) same as my sisters we don’t go the typical: (1.0) w-way of speaking like in ↑India

5 P: ↑what’s the typical [way of speaking.

6 G: [its like: uhh (.) <“you know wha::t {wɑ::ʈ} I mean”> (.) you know [know

7 P: [.hhh ((soft laugh))

57

8 G: <“↑wa::ter { wɑ::ʈer} you give me ↑wa::ter { wɑ::ʈer },>”

9 P: you mean to [say you have a goo-=

10 G: [yeah [it’s it’s,

11 P: [= the ↑accent

12 G: its not an accent I think we don’t have an accent I think we just speak English.

13 P: oh but (.) you have unaccented English [whereas others ↑don’t

14 G: [right.

In this dialogue, G evaluates her English as having no accent, and illustrates that Indian speakers

of English who have an accent can be distinguished by their pronunciation of “a” and “t” (ll. 6,

8). Although the stylizer appears to have power over those who are stylized in this case, once

stylized speech is spoken, the listener(s) can also reject or ignore the way the speech style has

been presented, contributing to its ongoing discursive construction.

2.5.2 Language Crossing

While self- and other- stylization speaks to “how others speak versus how I speak,” language

crossing “involves using the codes of the out-group for [one’s own] identity claims”

(Canagarajah, 2012, p. 126; emphases added). This construct is commonly associated with Ben

Rampton (1995, 2011a, 2011b), who conducted groundbreaking studies on multilingualism in

British schools in the 1980s and 1990s to show that students were using many more languages

than those from their own ethnic backgrounds with major social import—even if their

proficiency did not extend beyond a few words or phrases. Being of different and sometimes

mixed ethnicities, the blue-collar teenaged boys who participated in Rampton’s research all used

Cockney English and posh English, Jamaican Creole and Asian English, to stylize their speech.

Cockney and Jamaican Creole were drawn on to play tough and challenge teachers, posh to add

piquancy to sexual interest, and Asian English to feign social incompetence and crass bourgeois

58

values. (These are only examples; each of these codes had a wide range of possible indexicalities

that were context-specific.) If there was one code the boys actually affiliated with—one that truly

indexed who they were—Rampton argued that it was a multilingual adolescent mixed code that

united them as one pan-ethnic social class. Poignantly, they carried this code into adulthood,

when it conveyed nostalgia (Rampton, 2011a).

I present a telling dialogue featuring language crossing below (Excerpt 17) to show how

Rampton’s participants drew on the stereotypes associated with languages they did not

necessarily speak as heritage languages in their social positioning. In this instance, they put on a

South Asian accent in mock deference to him as an “elder” after he became frustrated with their

not taking seriously the interview in which he presented to them their own audio-recorded

dialogues. At the end of the excerpt, they promptly switched to Jamaican Creole as part of their

regular speech, which they had adopted as their in-group way of speaking.

Excerpt 17. “Very Sorry Benjaad” (Rampton, 2011b, pp. 1241-1242)

1 Ben: right shall I- shall we shall we stop there

2 Kazim: No

3 Alan: no come [ on carry on

4 Asif: [ do another extract

5 Ben: le- lets have (.) [ then you have to give me more=

6 Alan: [ carry on

7 Ben: =attention gents

8 Asif: ((quieter)): yeh [ alright

9 Alan: ((quieter)): [ alright

10 Asif: [ yeh

11 Ben: I need more attention

59

12 Kazim: ((in Asian English) I AM VERY SORRY BEN JAAD

[ɑɪ æm veɾi sɒɾi ben dʒa:d]

13 Asif: ((in Asian English) ATTENTION BENJAMIN

14 ((laughter))

15 Ben: right well you can- we cn-

16 Alan: [ BENJAADEMIN

17 Ben: we can continue but we er must concentrate a bit [more

18 Alan: [yeh

19 Alan: alright [ (go on) then

20 Asif: ((in Asian English)) [ concentrating very hard

[kɒnsəstɾetɪŋ veɾi aɾ]

21 Ben: okay right

22 ((giggles dying down))

23 Kazim: ((in Asian English)) what a stupid

[vʌd ə stupɪd]

24 Ben: ((returning the microphone to what he considers to be a better position to catch all the speakers)) : concentrate a little bit-

25 Alan: Alright then

26 Kazim: ((Creole, in earnest)) stop moving dat ting aroun

[dæʔ tiŋ əɹɑʊn]

Rampton (2011b) later observed:

This difference in the way Asian English and Creole are used fitted with a very general

pattern in my data. When adolescents used Asian English, there was nearly always a wide

gap between self and voice, evident here in Asif and Kazim’s feigned deference. In

contrast, switches into Creole tended to lend emphasis to evaluations that synchronised

with the identities that speakers maintained in their ordinary speech... (p. 1243)

60

At the same time, use of Asian English and Jamaican Creole signified language crossing since

we cannot take for granted that the boys, who came from different backgrounds and had complex

migration trajectories, spoke these as heritage dialects. In ethnically mixed urban neighborhoods,

new linguistic forms emerge and are assigned context-specific meanings that are both connected

to, and distinct from, the migrant languages—“widely noted and unregistered beyond their

localities of origin, represented in media and popular culture as well as in the informal speech of

people outside” (Rampton, 2011a, p. 291).

It is evident that distinctions between types of mixed language use can become blurry.

Jørgensen (2008) recognizes that ludic translanguaging can involve language crossing, as

students sometimes draw on codes for their meanings in wider social discourse (e.g., English

associated with advertising) but at other times do not seem to make a distinction between

languages in their verbal play. The two girls in a secondary EFL class, Lara and Ebba, who used

Swedish to discuss their English composition (Excerpt 11), seemed to be both translanguaging

(talking things through) and code-switching (generating in English and editing/evaluating in

Swedish). Practically speaking, a teacher encounters—or even models for the class—different

mixed language practices in the same short series of exchanges (see the Turkish EFL teacher in

Excerpt 12). Thus, in Section 2.6, I discuss the task of researching integrated language

repertoires alongside distinct codes, and why such research is needed.

2.6 Inter-Epistemological Research on Bi/Multilingual Classroom Talk

Poza (2017) reminds us that “translanguaging is but one term among many for the translingual

practices that current scholarship seeks to highlight and value in its work with multilingual

populations” (pp. 120-121). Educational research promoting multilingual practices in classrooms

has variously conceptualized students using multiple languages to learn as instinctive actions

61

(something students do naturally; e.g., Li, 2017), pedagogical outcomes (something teachers

need to teach, within the goals of formal education; e.g., Baker & Wright, 2017; Cenoz & Gorter,

2017; Lewis, Jones, & Baker, 2012), or acts of resistance (countercultural or contradictory to the

institution of schooling; e.g., Li, 2011b; Otheguy et al., 2015). Moreover, theories that have been

used to explain multilingualism in educational contexts can be in tension, from multicompetence

(Cook, 1992) to cross-linguistic transfer (Cummins, 2005) to funds of knowledge (González et

al., 2005) to polylanguaging (Jørgensen, 2008), when held up together from the point of view of

posterity. These terms suggest that we use our languages together to talk concepts through but

that we need to translate between L1 and L2 to make content comprehensible, that languages

belong to marginalized groups in society but also to anyone who wishes to take them up in

context-specific ways.

This study situates itself within the debate by noting that all the above phenomena can be

heard in every multilingual classroom, manifested in various ways depending on the classroom

ecology. Terms may experience conceptual drift; e.g., psycholinguists might call use of an

integrated language repertoire to make meaning “code-switching,” and they have long been

aware that “the bilingual is not two monolinguals in one person” (Grosjean, 1989, p. 3). Thus,

how I use terms in this study may differ from the ways others use them. However, what I want to

emphasize is that the notion of an integrated language repertoire does not preclude the idea that it

contains resources from different language grammars, which may mix seamlessly or interfere

with each other depending in part on how the individual has acquired those resources, for

example, as often used simultaneously in the same domain, or as relegated to different domains

due to societal diglossia. Moreover, there are different levels of language mixing, and individuals

can become more predisposed to one kind over another, due to recurring patterns of language use

62

in various social contexts. For example, Green and Abutalebi (2013) distinguish between dense

code-switching, in which in which speakers routinely interleave their languages in a single

utterance by taking lexical items in one language and transforming them according to the

morphosyntactic rules of the other, and a dual language context, in which switching between

languages often occurs, but in terms of one language at a time. Bi/multilingual people may also

choose to orient to monolingualism in social interaction, which may reflect an uptake of status

quo ideologies about language separation or standardization (Otheguy et al., 2015), a claim to an

ethnolinguistic identity (Ruuska, 2016), or a choice to primarily speak the language shared by all

interlocutors (Bonacina-Pugh, 2012).

A classroom-based study of multilingualism that investigates different types of mixed

language use together can examine two important issues relevant to pedagogy and linguistic

equity. First, it can examine variations in the repertoires of participants who speak the same

“list” of languages to see whether differences in relative proficiency and attitudes towards

language mixing impact interaction patterns and opportunities to learn. Second, it can examine

what bi/multilingual practices emerge in context and become repetitive over time, affecting

access and inclusion. Such an investigation can help teachers answer whether linguistic equity in

a particular classroom hinges on (1) letting students translanguage according to the common

speech practices of their community or social network, (2) facilitating code-switching between

their dominant and weaker languages, which they have largely acquired in separate contexts, (3)

something else, or (4) a mixture of interventions and strategies.

Jaspers and Madsen (2016) call for a distinction between descriptive, pedagogical, and

political analyses of mixed language use, and “a sociolinguistics of rather than for particular

linguistic practices” (p. 235; italics mine). This would mean documenting both translanguaging

63

and code-switching, rather than denying the existence of one in favor of the other. This allows us

to examine a wider range of instances of multilingual communication in classrooms—conscious

or unconscious; formulaic, conversational, or ludic; conformist or nonconformist (and according

to whose standards). An analysis of spontaneous classroom talk, combined with analysis of

participants’ evaluation of forms in talk, as shown on surveys or in stimulated recall interviews,

“allows us to study form, use, and ideology together” (Ritzau & Madsen, 2016, p. 197).

By using linguistic ethnography, a method that I will discuss in the following chapter,

this study is well-equipped to document what students do with their multilingual repertoires in

the absence of deliberate pedagogical intervention. After describing the methods used to collect

and analyze data, as well as the classroom context (Chapter 3) and presenting the findings

(Chapters 4, 5, and 6), I conclude by addressing what sociolinguistically informed pedagogical

actions teachers and students might strive for (Chapter 7), if not one type of mixed language use

over another.

64

CHAPTER 3

METHODOLOGY

3.1 What is Linguistic Ethnography?

Linguistic ethnography is the study of social life through ethnographic analysis of language,

primarily in spontaneous oral interaction, which makes it an apt method for answering this

study’s research questions about laissez faire translanguaging. I define linguistic ethnography as

the study of language in society with a dual focus on context and contextualization. A historical

overview of the development of this methodology renders this definition concrete.

In the 1970s, Dell Hymes proposed using the tools of anthropology to examine smaller

cultures than had previously been researched—groups of individuals rather than imagined

communities such as “speakers of X language” (Hymes, 1974, 2009). To do such research,

Hymes coined constructs such as the speech community (e.g., in this study, Juan’s or Kaori’s

class), the speech situation (e.g., a workshop by a visiting poet), the speech event (e.g., a

conversation between students Kix, Konan, and Eufia during the workshop), and the speech act

(e.g., each maneuver Kix, Konan, and Eufia make in their conversation). By studying

communication at these levels, Hymes developed tools for studying what Holliday (1999) called

“small cultures,” such as a family, a particular workplace, or a classroom.

Early research that applied Hymes’ Ethnography of Communication (EoC) to classrooms

found that the social practices and speech patterns in small cultures are linked to wider

communities and societal ideologies. Heath (1983) showed how the literacy and storytelling

practices of working-class Black and White children differed from each other and from those of

middle-class White children, while school practices mirrored those of the last group, contributing

to inequalities in educational outcomes. Duff (1995) documented how oral practices in a

65

classroom in Hungary changed from felelés (recitations) after the fall of the Soviet Union to

more Western-style, open-ended discussions. Cazden (2001) described types of interaction that

characterized classrooms in general, most famously IRF (Initiation, Response, Feedback),

consisting of a teacher question, a student response, and teacher feedback.

Watson-Gegeo (1988) argued that the promise of ethnography for doing research in

language classrooms was that it provided a new lens for examining learning: not seeing how

students learn a target language, but how they negotiate the social life of the small culture,

without which effective language acquisition cannot take place. To understand this, the

ethnographer of communication cannot simply visit the classroom and make a series of

impressionistic judgments; it takes time to locate any utterance, within the microcontext of an

interaction, as embedded in a series of concentric rings representing wider and wider ways of

being within the school, neighborhood, and society (Watson-Gegeo, 1988, pp. 576-578).

Similarly, Duff (2002) mentioned that EoC studies make connections between classroom

interaction and “the larger socio-educational and socio-political contexts and issues surrounding

language education and use and academic achievement” (p. 293).

Despite the rich potential of EoC, it only forms half of linguistic ethnography since EoC

focuses on documenting a speech community’s language practices in relation to wider societal

ideologies, rather than the situation-specific unfolding of particular interactions. This is the

difference between context and contextualization discussed by Auer (1996). While it is a truism

that social context is important in any interaction, Auer points out at least five definitions of

context, noting that others may also exist: (1) linguistic context, or what previous utterances a

particular utterance links back to (Bakhtin, 1981), (2) non-linguistic sense data, or the physical

surroundings, (3) features of the social situation, (4) participants’ common background

66

knowledge, and (5) channel of communication (the medium). Auer argues that describing

“context,” no matter how richly, is not enough to explain verbal interaction because “basically

everything can become a context for a linguistic focal event. The more interesting question surely

is how this becoming-a-context-for-something is accomplished” (p. 20; italics and bold in

original).

Interactional choices, verbal and nonverbal, must make relevant or invoke contextual

factors: in some cases, physical surroundings are important while in others they are not; in some

moments in conversation, age differences between participants matter and in others they do not.

Auer points to John Gumperz’ work on contextualization (Gumperz, 1982, 1992) as key to

understanding not only how conversational participants fit their utterances into contexts but

make those contexts jointly recognized through contextualization cues. In other words, it is not a

collection of material or social facts but a cognitive schema about what is relevant for the

interaction that determines context. This schema of participants may include or exclude material

or social facts that might be noted by an ethnographer. Another way to see context versus

contextualization is in the difference between brought-along identities that pre-exist the

conversation and brought about identities negotiated in the conversation (Zimmerman, 1998).

Even if participants have shared knowledge, pieces of it must be evoked, no matter how

implicitly—“turned from invisible (and interactionally irrelevant) dispositions (potentialities)

into commonly available grounds on which to conduct the interaction” (Auer, 1996, p. 20).

Auer describes two types of contextualization cues, or verbal signals used in

contextualization. The first cue type is contrast. When people interrupt their way of speaking by

changing their intonation, looking certain others in the eye (or looking away), shifting their

posture, or switching into a different language/dialect, they are signaling to others to pay

67

attention.15 In contrast cues, what to pay attention to is not inherent in the gesture or code—

instead, participants interpret what the shift means based on schematic knowledge of what has

come before in the interaction as well as shared background knowledge (Gumperz, 2015). The

other type of contextualization cue concerns codes or gestures that have meaning in themselves.

This meaning can be arbitrary or non-arbitrary. When the meaning is arbitrary, e.g., Italian =

normative and German = non-normative, or vice versa, it depends on culture-specific

associations people attach to the codes: “switching from Italian into German evokes different

associations in South Tyrol than it does in a West German migrant community” (Auer, 1996, p.

24). When the meaning is non-arbitrary, it is universal—e.g., a full stop in speech suggests one

has completed one’s turn. Figure 6 summarizes Auer’s categories of contextualization cues.

Figure 6 Contextualization Cues as Described in Auer (1996)

15 Auer (1998) defines all these as code-switches; hence, monolinguals can and do code-switch.

68

The study of context and contextualization requires researchers to combine the tools of

linguistics and ethnography (Copland & Creese, 2015; Tusting and Maybin, 2007). Linguistic

ethnographers, unlike ethnographers in anthropology, typically do not do research among

participants for many years, nor do they necessarily need to follow participants into every sphere

of their lives—however, they do need to collect enough data to know the social context,

participants, what is ritual or routine, and what systems and structures exist in the environment

(Creese, Takhi, & Blackledge, 2015). This requires an interdisciplinary approach (Rampton,

Maybin, & Roberts, 2015). “Open linguistics up” and “tie ethnography down” are truisms for

linguistic ethnographers (Copland & Creese, 2015)—through ethnography, talk can be linked to

its wider social, historical, or political context, and through linguistic analysis of

contextualization cues, the aspects of context relevant to the interaction can be tied to empirical

data suggesting the participants find them relevant (Tusting & Maybin, 2007).

3.2 Why Use LE to Research Bi/Multilingual Classroom Talk?

Linguistic ethnography allows us to investigate language in oral interaction from a heteroglossic

perspective (Bakhtin, 1981; Creese et al., 2015). The term heteroglossia, coined by Russian

philosopher Mikhail Bakhtin, refers to the multi-voicedness of every spoken utterance and the

inherent tension between centripetal (normative) and centrifugal (counter-normative) language

norms and ideologies in that utterance. A literary theorist from Soviet Russia, Bakhtin developed

this term as a critique of the distinction between literary and everyday language. In a famous

essay, “Discourse and the Novel” (1934-35), he claimed that methods of literary criticism which

used linguistic features to pinpoint the distinct character of a poet’s work or a period-specific

style of poetry (e.g., Modernism) were not useful in understanding the new genre of the novel.

This was because novels, in contrast to literary poetry, combined different voices aside from the

69

author’s (e.g., the characters’, the narrator’s, and other snatches from folklore, songs, or the

media), and these voices could be in contrast not only in their phonology, grammar, and lexis but

in terms of the points of view or ideologies they represented. The novel, for Bakhtin, suggested

that no ideology, no matter how powerful, could exert complete control over people’s minds

since all utterances inevitably contained raznorechie (“differentspeechness”).16 In everything we

say or write, any snatch of language contributes both to normalization/standardization and

diversification/destandardization of a group’s way of speaking and thinking, whether the group is

based on race, ethnicity, gender, region, class, profession, generation, etc.:

Every concrete utterance of a speaking subject serves as a point where centrifugal as well

as centripetal forces are brought to bear. … Such is the fleeting language of a day, a

social group, a genre, a school and so forth. It is possible to give a concrete and detailed

analysis of any utterance, once having exposed it as a contradiction-ridden, tension-filled

unity of two embattled tendencies in the life of language. (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 272)

Within a bi/multilingual classroom, any utterance can reflect a range of overlapping speech

communities—ethnolinguistic, disciplinary, generational, or affinity-based. To evaluate an

utterance as discursively hegemonic or counter-hegemonic, considering that multiple forms of

hegemony exist, the researcher must examine what the utterance means in a chain or web of

discourse (contextualization), and the social meanings oriented to by interactants.

Using “Bakhtin’s term ‘heteroglossia’ to illuminate understandings of the diversity of

linguistic practice evident in late modern societies” (Creese et al., 2015, p. 130), Angela Creese

and colleagues conducted a multi-site linguistic ethnography of Bengali, Gujarati, Mandarin, and

16 The Greek-based English translation is hetero (different) + glossia (language/speech).

70

Turkish complementary schools17 in the U.K. These researchers found that teachers and students

used their entire language repertoires to communicate, and the linguistic resources in those

repertoires could index multiple identities at once. Moreover, citing Bakhtin, they explained that

students mixed languages “to establish identity positions both oppositional and encompassing of

institutional values” (Creese & Blackledge, 2011, p. 18). Two illustrative dialogues are provided

below. In the first, the principal of a Gujarati complementary school, SB, is making an

announcement during an assembly:

Excerpt 18. “We’re Coming Here Awta Shaniware” (Creese & Blackledge, 2011, p. 11)

1 SB: what’s going to happen here Jalaram Bal Vikasma? Holiday nathi . . . awata Shaniware apne awanu chhe. we’re coming here awta shaniware . . . [several Ss put up their hands] . . . Amar? . . . [picks on Amar or Amit to reply] . . . Amare kidhu ne ke GCSE presentation chhe . . . awanu chhe. I know that we’re finishing on Friday in mainstream school, pun aiya agal badhayne awanu chhe . . . . I know, it’s a surprise. Khawanu etlu fi ne chhe, K warned me today . . . it’s something all of you will like, teachers will like . . . something for all of us . . . . [points to the HB’s class sitting in front of her] a balko a varshe GCSE karwana chhe etle next year a badha awshe mehman thayne, mota thayne! . . . we’re not going to take much time, ‘cause I’ve got few other things to tell you as well . . .

what’s going to happen here in JBV? It’s not a holiday, we’ve to come here next Saturday . . . we’re coming here next Saturday . . . [several Ss put up their hands] . . . Amar?. . .[picks on Amar or Amit to reply] . . . As Amar said, there’s GCSE presentation, you have to come. I know we’re finishing on Friday in mainstream School, but you all have to come here . . . . I know, it’s a surprise, lovely food, K [a parent] warned me today, it’s something all of you will like, teachers will like . . . something for all of us. . .[points to the HB’s class sitting in front of her] these children are doing GCSE this year so next year they will come as guests, all grown up! . . . we’re not going to take up much time ‘cos I’ve got a few other things to tell you as well . . .

17 Complementary schools are heritage language schools for British-born children of immigrant parents, offering classes on evenings or weekends.

71

Breaking down what SB said in each language, it is clear that her speech is not diglossic

(different languages for different functions) but heteroglossic; the classifications “Gujarati” and

“English” are, in this instance, “meaningless for SB” (Creese & Blackledge, 2011, p. 12). What

is important, however, is that the meaning message is not clear without both languages, which

she uses to include everybody. The multiple identities that she claims through the heteroglossic

speech include head, teacher, parent, and community member. The centripetal (normative)

aspects of her speech encompass the values of the school and ethnic community, and its

centrifugal (non-normative) aspects lie in its challenge to ideologies of English monolingualism

in the K-12 system and language separation in some heritage language programs.

In the following interaction between a teacher, PB, and two students, which took place in

front of the class, participants also did not seem to be code-switching between languages, but

used their multilingualism to establish multiple identity positions, evoking both institutionalized

and oppositional ideologies. The students had read a folk story in a previous lesson, and the pair

assignment was to make up their own version of the story. This pair made two characters, the

dog and the monkey, into lovers—an interpretation that the teacher pretended not to understand.

Excerpt 19. “They Are Going Out” (Creese & Blackledge, 2011, pp. 13-14)

1 PB: shena upper banawi chhe?

what is it [your version] about?

2 Ss: Kootro ane wandro

dog and the monkey

3 PB: Kootro ne wandro? Shu banawi chhe warta?

dog and the monkey? What story have you made?

4 Ss: They make friends and they go out

5 PB: be mitro chhe ane–

72

they are two friends and–

6 Ss: they are going out

7 PB: e bai mitro chhe, kootro ne wandro ne bai farwa jay chhe

they are both friends and they go out (for a walk)

8 Ss: they are going out

9 PB: kya farwa jay?

where do they go?

10 Ss: junglema

in the jungle

11 PB: junglema, wandrabai junglema jai shake?

in the jungle, can the monkey go into the jungle?

12 Ss: no, they are going out [laugh]

Creese and Blackledge (2011) note: “Although the two languages appear to be more functionally

distinct here [compared to the principal’s announcement], with the teacher using Gujarati and the

young people using English, it is again the use of both languages together which makes the task

meaningful and fun for the young people” (p. 14). Both the teacher’s and the students’ speech is

heteroglossic, linguistically as well as ideologically. While the students go along with the task of

retelling a folk story, in alignment with the traditional culture taught by the school, they give it a

more modern meaning. And while the teacher appears to sanction “racy” interpretations of the

story by pretending not to understand, she accepts the newly-coined heteroglossic term

“junglema,” using it herself (l. 11).

Communication is inherently heteroglossic, and linguistic ethnography as a method is

suited for analyzing this heteroglossia because it is an analysis of discourse based on the

speakers, not the code (e.g., “This is Language X,” “This is Language Y,” “Language Y is

countercultural,” “Language X represents Group A,” etc.). In LE, what constitutes a code and

73

what codes mean are not simply brought along but also brought about. These understandings can

sometimes be accessed through participants’ metacommentary about the language(s) they are

using (Rymes, 2014)—even as they use an integrated language repertoire for meaning making.

Sociocultural theories of education suggest that people learn via the mediation of others

and interaction with tools that mediate human activity, one of the most important tools being

language (e.g., Heath, 1983; Johns 1997; Vygotsky, 1980). LE shares some of the same

assumptions as sociocultural theories of education, for example, that the meanings and values

assigned to language forms are re-negotiated through interaction on different timescales—such

as an activity, a class meeting, an academic year, an individual’s schooling history, or discourses

in place over multiple generations (Mortimer & Wortham, 2015). In any observed session,

“interactions… are likely to have determinants in the histories of individuals, groups, and

institutions” (Mercer, 2010, p. 5). However, this study on laissez faire translanguaging is an LE

rather than a sociocultural study for a reason. While sociocultural research is more suited for

assessing learning outcomes over the course of language socialization, LE looks beyond official

classroom activities to other communicative practices. This shift in focus can lead to fresh

perspectives on what else class participants do with language (Rampton, Maybin, & Roberts,

2015, p. 39). Moreover, LE allows bi/multilingual research to go beyond funds of knowledge

theory (González et al., 2005) and language socialization theory (Schieffelin & Ochs, 1986) to

see how students use languages they were neither born into nor are in the process of learning to

construct their identities in the classroom. The researcher can also investigate how different

individuals from the same ethnolinguistic group see their home language(s) as problem, right, or

resource (Ruiz, 1984). The bi/multilingual practices that students enact in the absence of

74

deliberate pedagogical intervention, and their beliefs about these, can then inform the design of

the bi/multilingual pedagogy so often found in sociocultural research.

3.3 Methods of Data Collection

During preliminary fieldwork (August to November 2018), I visited the school on Tuesdays and

Thursdays to observe Juan’s sheltered English 9 class and occasionally Kaori’s ESL 9/10 class.

Originally, I had planned to do research only in the class of Juan, whom I met through

volunteering in the Filipino American club at the school in Spring 2018. However, after

observing Kaori’s class to situate Juan’s class in the larger context of ESL, I thought it would be

beneficial to study translanguaging in a language I spoke (Filipino) as well as a language that

necessitated working with a translator (Ilokano). Over 13–14 weeks from January to May 2019, I

collected nearly 70 hours of audio-recorded data from both classes, amounting to 250 pages of

single-spaced transcripts of moments involving mixed language use as well as other events when

language use was relevant, such as students making claims about their own or each other’s

language proficiencies. I sought to understand whether and how individuals took up

opportunities to think aloud and communicate bi/multilingually. However, other forms of data

were needed to contextualize these interactions, which I describe below.

1. Observation and field notes. When visiting the classes, I took notes on what occurred every

few minutes, transcribing speech as best I could and detailing the wider context. These field

notes allowed me to pinpoint moments of interest to examine more closely in the interactional

analysis of the audio-recorded data.

2. Background questionnaire. I gave a brief questionnaire (Appendix A) to students about use of

languages other than English (LOTEs) in class. The first of three questions asked them to rate

how often they used a LOTE in class: never, rarely, sometimes, often, or always. These five

75

subjective terms were not meant to measure actual amount of LOTE use—two different students

may have different ideas of what “sometimes” entails. Instead, what the questionnaire aimed to

capture was how students evaluated their amount of LOTE use. I also examined how they

positioned themselves as (non-)users of LOTEs in the interviews, during which I followed up on

what they put on the questionnaires (see Appendix B for semi-structured interview questions). In

the case of some students, there were discrepancies between what they put on the questionnaire

or said in the interviews, and their actual audio-recorded language use.

The second item on the questionnaire asked students to check all the ways in which they

used a LOTE if the answer to the first question was always, often, or sometimes—such as

speaking the LOTE, thinking to oneself in the LOTE, taking notes in the LOTE, or using a

bilingual dictionary. I also included an “Other” option with a blank space. The third question was

an open-ended one that asked them to explain their response to the first: if they never or rarely

used a LOTE, why did they avoid using it? If they used a LOTE sometimes, often, or always,

what did it do for them? The questionnaire thus served as a springboard for individualizing the

official interview questions about students’ use of LOTEs in class.

3. Semi-structured interviews. I carried out semi-structured, audio-recorded interviews with

students who agreed to be interviewed (Appendix B) and both Juan and Kaori (Appendix C) to

get a sense of their ethnolinguistic and educational backgrounds and migration histories, and to

develop a deeper sense of their bi/multilingual repertoires. Admittedly, I did not end up

interviewing participants nearly as much as I originally planned to, only coming to the school

once a week during the formal data collection period (January to May 2019). I was thus only able

to interview eight students once or twice during lunch breaks. I interviewed Juan and Kaori

twice, once to collect biographical information in February and again at the end of my data

76

collection period in May. As Rayna, the student teacher in both classes, came into the study later

on, I obtained her consent to transcribe classroom interactions when she was teaching, but did

not interview her.

When I realized there would be far less interview data than planned, I started to tailor

interview questions based on recent interesting bi/multilingual interactions in the data, choosing

the next interviewee based on them, and creating “data handouts” for that participant to look over

prior to the interview (e.g., Appendix D). The choice to do so led the data gathering to grow in

directions that I, as researcher, felt were good leads—and I do not deny that there were probably

areas that I overlooked. At the same time, I was able to focus several students’ attention on the

same phenomenon, for example, by asking Kix and Jhon about whether Ilokano was useful for

learning in English 9, or by getting several Filipino boys’ perspectives on why they used Filipino

to “goof off” in ESL 9/10.

4. Audio-recordings of classroom interaction. I recorded classroom dialogues to better capture

moments of bi/multilingual language use that I would transcribe and analyze in detail. This data

was central to the study; it allowed me to see what translanguaging, code-switching, self- and

other-stylization and language crossing meant in two classroom ecologies. I used conventions of

transcription informed by Gumperz (1982) and Hepburn and Bolden (2013), eliciting

pseudonyms for the teachers and students who agreed to participate in the study. Following the

work of scholars such as Rampton (1995), Talmy (2008), and Lamb (2015), I did not focus

solely on participants’ performance of their ethnolinguistic identities through use of LOTEs but

also on how they constructed other identities by drawing on available resources in their language

repertoires and contextualizing these in the moment. I was also interested in how different

classroom participants negotiated asymmetries in linguistic and cultural knowledge.

77

I followed Rampton’s (1995) methods in inviting participants to examine cases of

language use that I had recorded and transcribed, to ask them about the meanings produced in

these cases and discuss my understandings of the data with them. The participants’ reports were

not privileged over my own analysis; however, based on the principles of interactional

sociolinguistics (Gumperz, 1982, 2015), participant perspectives were important in helping me

achieve emic understandings of the data. Asking students to give metalinguistic commentary

helped me clarify how they understood each other’s language use. For example, the language

labels students used (e.g., English, Filipino/Tagalog, Ilokano) matched what I would call the

languages they used, as well as my observations about the ways in which they translanguaged

and code-switched. No one brought up the term “Taglish,” which reflects the dual code-

switching rather than dense code-switching that was prevalent in these students’ classroom

language use (Green & Abutalebi, 2013).

To develop analytical themes, I drew on types of metalinguistic commentary proposed by

Rymes (2014), such as code labelling, pronunciation evaluation, and forms of address, which

could be studied through audio data alone. As these code labellings, pronunciation evaluations,

and forms of address (e.g., vocatives from Korean dramas) emerged in conversation during class,

I noted that the interviews did not yield the only examples of linguistic metacommentary, as

participants regularly assessed their own and others’ language use and performance as part of

classroom life and not only when asked to do so by the researcher.

5. Secondary research. I collected documents such as reports commissioned by the Hawai‘i

Department of Education (Hawai‘i P-20 Partnerships for Education, 2018) on Hawai‘i’s English

Language Learners, data from the website of the WIDA Consortium, which administers the ESL

exit test across 35 U.S. states (including Hawai‘i) and the District of Columbia, handouts from

78

staff meetings (demographic information, three-year plans, course catalogs), and artifacts from

the classes (worksheets, activities, tests/quizzes). While I never intended to carry out fine-

grained analysis of these documents, they helped to contextualize the audio-recorded activities

and connect the course curricula to state and nationwide educational policies. I also read about

the history of language policy and education in Hawai‘i by taking an undergraduate course on

Hawai‘i Creole and reading about Asian settler colonialism (e.g., Fujikane & Okamura, 2008).

3.4 Methods of Data Analysis

My first analysis of field notes and audio-recordings involved both deductive and inductive

thematic analysis. I coded four types of themes, summarized in Table 1.

Table 1 Thematic Analysis of Classroom Data English 9 ESL 9/10 Both Classes Theme 1: Data Evoking Linguistic Competencies

- Korean competence queried

- Other language proficiency [e.g., pronunciation of Hawaiian] queried

- Academic competence asserted - Academic competence queried - Academic incompetence admitted - English proficiency queried - Filipino language proficiency queried (includes non-Tagalog languages) - HL academic proficiency asserted

Theme 2: Other Language Episodes

- Juan speaks Ilokano - Shared linguistic resources

- Filipino to teacher - Echoing - Explicit encouragement of HL - Language misunderstanding - Metalanguage - Translanguaging - Stylization

79

Theme 3: Interesting Data Re: Certain Participants

- Eufia and Rayna - He - Jhon

- Cookie - Juliana - Skusta

- Mr. Nick (theater workshop facilitator)

Theme 4: Other (Events, Classroom Culture)

- Book signing - Machismo - Counter-counterculture

- Telling on someone

Since the social construction of linguistic and academic competence was a focus of the study, I

used deductive themes in the first category such as “English/HL/Other language proficiency

queried/asserted.” For these themes, I coded data related to display of proficiency in various

languages (not stylization but the use of these languages in more extensive communication) as

well as explicit assertions of language proficiency and challenges to it—such as the following

conversation in Filipino: “Ilokano ako gago.” [I’m Ilokano dumbass.] “Pero sakin ka nagtatanong

pag Ilokano gago” [But you’re asking me how to say things in Ilokano dumbass.] I also coded

assertions of, and challenges to, students’ academic competence across languages; hence, the

data in this category could be in English, in another language, or in a mix of languages.

The second set of themes involved other language episodes. Some of these were

inductive, in that I examined the data to see what other themes were recurring and how they

related to each other (Strauss & Corbin, 1997). These included, for both classes, (1) echoing, the

practice of repeating what someone else has said, e.g., when students did collaborative writing or

worked out a passage of text, (2) explicit encouragement of heritage or first language use by the

teacher, and (3) clearing up language misunderstandings, e.g., due to pronunciation or grammar,

word choice, or not understanding implied meaning. I also coded deductively for (1)

metalanguage, or explicit talk about language forms, (2) translanguaging, using an integrated

80

language repertoire to make sense of content, such as the themes of a novel,18 and (3) stylization,

e.g., punctuating one’s speech with bits of a particular code. Other language episodes also

included cheeky use of Filipino to the student teacher, Rayna, which she could not understand.

Conversely, Juan’s students did not use Filipino with him, even though he could understand it, as

they could use their more intimate shared language, Ilokano.

The third type of theme involved interesting episodes or interview data surrounding

certain participants, whom I will introduce in more detail in Sections 3.5 and 3.6 when I discuss

the curriculum, demographics and people in each classroom. In general, interesting episodes

show dynamic changes in identity and language use on different timescales (Mortimer &

Wortham, 2015)—e.g., how Cookie shifted from working with his friend Ruby to addressing the

whole class, how Skusta was gradually ostracized by the “loud” Filipino boys over a semester,

how Eufia and Rizze learned to be respectful of He, how Juliana dramatically changed the way

she participated in class due to a catalytic encounter with some boys, or why John, a reluctant

translanguager, was finally able to translanguage.

The fourth type of theme was an “other” category. It included events that were

sociolinguistically meaningful, in that they led to a lot of the themes in the first category

occurring within the same lesson or class activity—such as the signing of a class poetry

anthology that prompted discussion on what language(s) to sign one’s name in, or write a

message to the reader in. I also noted a culture of machismo in ESL 9/10, led by the vocal

majority of Filipino boys, that was counterculture to the aims of schooling. For example, telling

on someone (e.g., announcing that a classmate was on Youtube), was a means to assert

18 Swain and Lapkin’s (2002) study defines translanguaging as talking aloud about form, but in this study, I separate discussion about language forms (“metalanguage”) from using an integrated repertoire to deal with subject content (“translanguaging”).

81

dominance among these boys, as they took turns doing this to test which of their peers would

back them up; such practices were, in effect, distracting. However, by the end of the semester,

Rayna and the girls, not all of whom were Filipino, spoke up more often and firmly to get lessons

back on track (“counter-counterculture”).

For the thematic analysis, I used NVivo software, which allows the researcher to code the

data and easily retrieve all relevant instances of a particular code when the amount of data

becomes too unwieldy to analyze using word processing software (Figure 7).

Figure 7 Working with NVivo 12

Following these thematic analyses, I constructed diagrams of the social networks within

each class reflecting (1) who was more or less vocal, in any language(s), and (2) who seemed

close to whom (see Sections 3.5 and 3.6). Then, to answer each of the research questions, I

brought up the data from relevant themes and focused on these in my interactional analyses. For

instance, in noting what kinds of mixed language use occurred in the two classes (and analyzing

which seemed to arise naturally and which appeared to require deliberate intervention), I mainly

82

looked at the themes “metalanguage,” “translanguaging,” and “stylization.” When examining

class majorities and minorities, I drew partly on data from He, the Cantonese-speaking singleton

in Juan’s class, as well as the theme of “machismo” in Kaori’s class, where being a boy and

being Filipino were related to being in the majority group in the class. When answering the

research question about newcomers versus resident multilinguals, I compared Kix and his friends

with the two friends He and Jhon. (There was no need for a special code for Kix since a lot of the

bi/multilingual data in Juan’s class already involved him, as the main language broker.)

Although there were no resident multilinguals in Kaori’s class, which was a foundational ESL

class that enrolled only newcomers, there were relative degrees of newcomerness, which I

address in the findings with regard to Juliana; she was positioned as a newcomer by some boys

but also socialized a new girl, Ruby, into classroom language practices.

In the following sections, I provide a profile of each class, from the curriculum to the

teachers to the students. Then, I revisit my researcher positionality, this time with regard to the

research site. I address issues of (1) positionality in translation (working with an Ilokano

translator who was an undergraduate at my university), (2) sharing versus not sharing linguistic

capital with participants, (3) sharing an identity as a bi/multilingual with most people at the

school, in a state where multilingualism is the norm, and (4) being part of the Filipino majority in

the setting—thereby potentially raising the status of Filipino languages and contributing to their

hegemony within the research site despite their marginalization in North American education.

3.5 The English 9 Class

3.5.1 The English 9 Curriculum

All English 9 courses at the school (sheltered, regular, and honors) delivered the same

curriculum, even though sheltered courses enrolled only ELL-designated students to allow for

83

more explicit focus on language points in addition to immersion in a variety of literary works.

The Springboard English 9 textbook (College Board, 2017), with the theme “Coming of Age,”

was used; however, Juan relied on the textbook less in the second half of the school year,

continuing the theme with To Kill a Mockingbird, Romeo and Juliet, and one of his favorites,

Sherman Alexie’s young adult novel Flight. Table 2 below, which gives an overview of what the

class did during the period of the ethnography, shows activities on the days I visited, from mid-

January to early May.

Table 2 Sampling of Lessons in English 9 Jan. 17* Metaphors and similes: Students must come up with, draw, and write a

paragraph about their life metaphor based on the prompt, “My life is a…”

Jan. 24 Article about causes of anxiety and stress in adolescents; discussion about sources of anxiety and stress in students’ lives

Jan. 31 Students do individual 3-minute presentations in front of the class about different types of Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE). (Examples: physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, substance abuse…) At the end of the class, students count how many types of ACE appear in the protagonist Zits’ life in the first chapters of Sherman Alexie’s Flight.

Feb. 7* Groups analyze Sherman Alexie’s essay on why he writes gritty novels about adverse childhood experiences for his YA audience

Feb. 14 Small group and whole class discussions of recurring themes, similes and metaphors in Flight

Feb. 21 Analysis of Paul Lawrence Dunbar’s poem “We Wear the Mask” (late 19th century); application of the metaphor “wearing a mask” to characters in Flight, including Zits’ absentee father

Feb. 28 Small group and whole class discussions of metaphors and similes throughout Flight, including what the title means

Mar. 7 Poetry-writing workshop by local poet Celeste Gallo, who immigrated to Hawai‘i as a child from the Visayas in the Philippines

Mar. 28* Beginning Romeo & Juliet: Students work on an activity involving “who’s who” in the cast of characters

Apr. 4* In small groups, students analyze a 19th century poem using TWIST (Tone, Word Choice, Imagery, Style, and Theme); in the last third (25 mins.) of

84

class, they have a test involving 7 multiple choice-questions and a paragraph-long analysis of another poem using TWIST.

Apr. 11 Lesson on defining tragedy as a literary genre; going back-and-forth between individual brainstorming, small group discussion, and whole class discussion. Lots of intertextuality, linking Flight to Romeo & Juliet to a Youtube video on Greek tragedy.

Apr. 18* In small groups, students track particular characters across scenes in R&J in order to document character traits and relationships between characters.

Apr. 25 Workshop by a visiting youth theater company; begins with some fun warm-up exercises. Next, students rehearse in pairs how to deliver 3–5-line monologues from R&J. Individual presentations in a supportive atmosphere, then one actor performs the nurse’s monologue for the students.

May 2 Preparation for the launch of the class’ poetry anthology; students vote on the book cover. Juan talks about book-signing and shows the class his collection of autographed books. Going on the Internet, he shows students how many copies the book has already sold (188), as well as fan email he has received. Students analyze, then act out, Romeo and Juliet’s meeting scene.

An asterisk * marks a lesson taught by Juan’s regular substitute.

This overview highlights Juan’s experience teaching English 9: themes (e.g., young people’s

problems) and activities (e.g., analysis of simile and metaphor) are recurring and build upon each

other across different units, from Flight to Romeo & Juliet to the students’ own poetry writing. It

is my impression that students had a great deal of respect for their teacher, as he set high goals

for his ELLs, assigning them extensive reading in the form of age-appropriate realistic fiction

and giving them 19th century poems and Shakespeare to analyze, while ensuring that the

thematic content was relatable.

3.5.2 Juan’s Educational and Professional Background

Juan describes his choice of profession as “an accident”; in his senior year of high school, he

didn’t know what to go into, and an aunt suggested majoring in Education because tuition fees

were reasonable. After applying to the state university of Ilocos Norte, he was happy to receive a

scholarship and chose to specialize in English education because it was the first decade of the

85

21st century and the call center industry was booming in the Philippines. Juan described himself

as a student leader during his undergraduate career, and as someone who did not shy away from

exploring difficult social issues (e.g., Table 2 above). In his sophomore year, he took a theater

class with a young, liberal professor from Manila, who had her students create one-act plays:

I guess she just pushed us to really go outside of our box so (.) the play that we created,

my group did, we called it “Sex Positions” (chuckles) – you can put that off the record

but – it has nothing to do with intercourse, or what not. It was like looking at the, um

(3.0) familial roles from the sense of gender, or sex. … And then some of the professors

were like, ‘You have to take that down! Cancel the show!’ or whatnot, but my professor

was like, “>You know what,< I approved it, just remove your posters, advertise

differently” and then—we did the project. So (1.0) I guess (1.0) that kind of shows how

ambitious—or a risk-taker I am, in the things I do.

Back then, he still hadn’t reckoned he would practice teaching in the U.S.—ever since he was in

elementary school, he, his sister, and his father had petitioned to come to the U.S. under the

family reunification plan, but the papers took 10–11 years to process. Suddenly, in his last year

of university, they learned that the application was approved. School administrators were very

accommodating, such that he was able to finish his exams, action research, and practicum in

February so that he could immigrate to the U.S. before his temporary visa expired. Even though

he graduated as salutatorian (#2 in his class), he was not able to come to graduation because he

had to leave the Philippines in February. He describes missing out on this as bittersweet, as he

had a memorable time at university, even though immigration took precedence over everything.

Still in his early 20s, he worked at Walmart for a year and a half, while also teaching

part-time in a private pre-school. In the first of two interviews, he explained: “I was exploring,

86

‘Do I wanna teach here or not?’ But (.) I had that fresh grad drive because (.) I had to? So I was

working on my Praxis [U.S. licensure exam], certification, everything.” At that time, a friend

teaching at his current school recommended an educational assistant position in special

education. He applied, and was hired after a five-month process. He was an educational assistant

in spring 2013 and became a certified teacher that summer. However, there was still no opening

in the school’s English department, so he worked as an educational assistant for one more year

(2013–14). On the first day of the 2014–15 school year, a permanent job became open, his

present position teaching sheltered English 9. My ethnographic research thus covers his sixth

year of teaching and his first year as department head.

Since Juan was sometimes elsewhere in the school due to administrative duties, Ed (an

Ilokano man who appeared to be in his late 40s or early 50s) was his regular substitute. While Ed

was also trilingual in Ilokano, Filipino, and English, and like Juan spoke English with a Filipino

accent, he did not seem to have the English proficiency to understand course texts and lead

students to deconstruct them. In other words, during the classes when he substituted, he often

acted as a proctor, leaving students to do analyses in small groups and collecting their notes,

worksheets, or paragraph reflections for Juan to mark. Moreover, I noted that Ilokano students

rarely spoke Ilokano in classes taught by Ed. (In the findings, I discuss my explanation for this,

which relates to the indexicality of speaking Ilokano in the moment, as well as Kix’s

explanation, which he said had to do with level of familiarity. Both explanations are probably

true, and they are not mutually exclusive.)

3.5.3 English 9 Class Dynamics

There were 14 students in English 9 in 2018-19, with a few coming or going partway through the

year. In Juan’s class, the two students who expressed themselves most frequently with

87

confidence were Kix, an Ilokano-Filipino-English trilingual who immigrated to Hawai‘i the

school year before, and He, an English-dominant singleton of Cantonese heritage who had grown

up in Hawai‘i since age five.19 Each of these students attracted a following, Kix’s being larger,

including five female Ilokano L1/HL students with good attendance: Eufia, Clara, Rizze, Aliah,

and a new student, Diana. These girls were unique individuals: Eufia was an eager learner who

was as outspoken as Kix; Rizze was talkative and cheeky in Ilokano and a committed, if

somewhat shy, English-speaking student; Clara was likewise talkative in Ilokano but tended to

be lackadaisical in class; Aliah spoke only English but understood Ilokano and was fairly quiet;

and Diana began as a quiet newcomer who gained confidence due to Kix and Eufia’s support,

quickly transforming into an active bilingual participant. Kix’s circle also included Fetu, an

academically proficient and socially adept Samoan boy who moved in and out of both groups.

Jhon, an Ilokano-speaking boy who had largely grown up in the U.S., preferred to sit with He

and speak only English, and other Ilokano students seemed to exclude Jhon in subtle ways,

though Kix reported in an interview that Jhon socialized with them outside of class.

The remaining students had limited attendance. These included Mike, a quiet boy who

understood Ilokano but spoke English, and three Chuukese-speaking boys (Bob, Charlie, and

Raoul). Charlie transferred schools mid-year; Bob and Raoul stayed on and tended to sit with

He’s company when they showed up. Kleo, a heritage speaker of Marshallese who left partway

through the term, tended to sit with her friends Kix and Eufia. Figure 8 shows the English 9

social groups from my perspective; letters are shorthand for students’ first/heritage languages.

The labels “Center” and “Periphery” denote which groups were more or less vocal in any

19 The non-English languages students spoke could be their first or heritage languages (L1s or HLs). In Figure 8, I use the labels “I” for Ilokano, “C” for Chuukese, “X” for Cantonese, “M” for Marshallese, and “S” for Samoan.

88

language(s). The label “Distributed” means some individuals in this category were active class

participants while others were not.

Figure 8 English 9 Class Dynamics

Table 3 below summarizes English 9 students’ L1s/HLs, number of years in Hawai‘i (if known,

i.e., if they agreed to participate in the study), whether each student was a newcomer or had

grown up in the U.S., and students’ countries of origin. The columns “Q,” “AR,” and “I” denote

whether students agreed to fill out the questionnaire (all students), be audio-recorded, or be

interviewed about their language background and transcribed moments of bi/multilingual

language use in class.

Table 3 Students in English 9

Name Years in Hawai‘i

Relative Arrival

L1/HL Country of Origin

Q AR I

Kix 1–2 Newcomer Ilokano Filipino Y Y Y

Eufia 1–2 Newcomer Ilokano Filipino Y Y N

Rizze 1–2 Newcomer Ilokano Filipino Y Y N

Clara Unknown Newcomer Ilokano Filipino Y Y N

89

Diana < 1 Newcomer Ilokano Filipino Y Y N

Jhon 6 Long-time Resident

Ilokano Filipino Y Y Y

Aliah Unknown Unknown Ilokano Filipino Y Y N

Mike Unknown Unknown Unknown Filipino Y N N

Bob Unknown Unknown Chuukese Micronesian Y Y Y

Charlie Unknown Unknown Chuukese Micronesian Y N N

Raoul Unknown Unknown Chuukese Micronesian Y N N

Kleo HI-born Long-time Resident

Marshallese Marshallese Y Y Y

He 10 Long-time Resident

Cantonese Chinese Y Y Y

Fetu 1–2 Newcomer Samoan Samoan Y Y N

Although Bob agreed to all aspects of the study, he stopped coming to class. Kleo, whose background interview was very rich and who let me audio-record her classroom talk, left the class before I could interview her about language use moments. Based on the available data, for this study I chose Kix, the class’ main language broker, as a

focal student in English 9, in addition to He, an outspoken Chinese singleton, and Jhon, a fairly

quiet old-timer of Ilokano descent. These three students participated in all aspects of the research

and represent different profiles: a newcomer and a long-time resident from the ethnolinguistic

majority, and a singleton.

3.5.4 English 9 Focal Students

Kix, who came to Honolulu in March 2018, was a bilingual role model for his Ilokano L1 peers.

After graduating as valedictorian from his elementary school in Ilocos Norte, he was offered a

spot in a sciences-focused secondary school where all classes were in English except for

“Tagalog class.” While at this school, he traveled widely throughout the country as editor-in-

chief of the school newspaper, which had a staff of seven and won local and regional titles and

90

ranked third in a national competition in 2017. In one interview, when I remarked “Oh my gosh,

you’re busy” upon hearing about his involvement in volleyball and JROTC (Junior Reserve

Officers Training Corps), Kix explained that he had been even busier in the Philippines, when he

went to school at 6 a.m. daily to put out the weekly newspaper with six others; he also worked on

it from 6–7:30 each evening and got home at 7:30 or 8.

The parallels between Kix and Juan were probably lost on nobody in the class—both

were academically accomplished Ilokano males with leader-like qualities and high levels of

multilingualism. Kix described his proficiency in English, Ilokano, and Filipino as “fairly equal,”

and took responsibility for helping others.

He, the Chinese singleton, moved to Hawai‘i from Guangzhou when he was five. He

explained: “I didn’t like to stay here, after the first morning I keep asking my parents to go

back.” Despite leaving his country of birth in early childhood, he reported visiting “every two

years mostly,” particularly during the summer, and his family had a house in China. Since his

parents only spoke a “little bit” of English, by his estimation, he acted as their interpreter, and

occasionally got Juan’s permission to miss class for this reason. When I asked if he knew any

Mandarin, he said he used to have a Mandarin-speaking friend who lived in the same triplex—

“My parents say I speak Mandarin fluently.” His friend, who has since moved, did not speak

He’s language, Cantonese, but at the time of the interview He was using Mandarin with a

Chinese classmate in his Japanese class.

In terms of literacy skills, he admits being able to read a bit of Chinese but not being able

to write. When I asked him if he wanted to learn, he said “kind of,” but when I rephrased the

question as “Does it make you sad you can’t write in Chinese?”, he replied “Nah” in a

lighthearted voice. Then, when I asked what his parents thought of this, he voiced them in a

91

tongue-in-cheek manner: “‘You need to learn Chinese if (.) like (.) Hawai‘i have a wall (snicker)

and then we gotta move back to China.’ That’s what my father keeps saying.” “Do you want that

to happen, like what your dad said?” I asked. “No,” he replied, and I continued, “Why not?” to

which he said: “Because I have friends here that is important to me.” Juan told me that He’s

friends were not in the English 9 class; rather, his gang of smartphone gamers, who identified as

an Ilokano and two Tagalogs, liked to “hang out” in Juan’s room during recess, as I observed

myself. In an interview, Juan mentioned that these four boys went to middle school together.

Jhon was born in Ilocos Sur and came to Hawai‘i in 2013, at age 9. He reported that his

parents spoke Ilokano and that he was bilingual in English and Ilokano, but spoke English better.

However, he said he spoke both at home, and could still hold a conversation in Ilokano. In

addition, he knew a little bit of Filipino and Spanish. With regard to literacy, Jhon, like He and

the researcher, admitted he was not good at reading and writing in his HL. Moreover, Jhon also

did not see much need to develop these skills.20 When I asked him if he wanted to learn to read

and write in Ilokano, he chuckled and said, “Ye:::ah I dunno.” “Oh, why not?” I asked. “Only

writing,” he replied. “No seriously, do you wanna learn a little bit?” I continued. “Yeah, a little

bit,” he repeated, without much conviction. Nevertheless, he reported speaking Ilokano not only

to family but to friends, which Kix corroborated, although Jhon only spoke English in class.

Kleo, the fourth student who agreed to participate in all aspects of the study, left the class

after February. Even though I have limited interactional data involving this singleton hertage

20 Relating to this attitude I observed in He and Jhon, I suggest that there needs to be a social need to develop academic literacy skills in a less commonly taught heritage language; virtually all those who grow up outside of their ethnic country lose, or never develop, these skills even if they maintain conversational proficiency (see Jia & Aronson, 2003, for Cantonese in Canada), likely due to lack of an academic community of practice to invest in. Also, as one of the committee members on my dissertation committee noted, in some lesss commoly taught heritage languages there is a lack of readily accessible materials to develop academic skills.

92

speaker of Marshallese, I observed that she integrated well with Ilokano students during group

discussions or individual work at small tables—indeed, based on Kix’s and Kleo’s singing in

class, he seemed to share U.S. pop with Kleo and K-pop with his Filipino friends.

Several other students appear in the data from Juan’s class, none of whom consented to

be interviewed even though they agreed to be recorded. Eufia and Rizze, two Ilokano girls, were

best friends and also good friends with Kix. At first, they teased He by talking at him (rather than

to him) in Ilokano or Filipino, and speaking mock Chinese to him. In mid-April, Rizze

apologized for this behavior by saying, “I didn’t mean to hurt you He,” after which the girls were

very friendly towards him.

Diana, a new student whose first recorded presence was on April 11, was inducted by

Kix, Eufia, and Rizze into the group’s translanguaging practices. I focus on this data in Chapter

4, when I show how being in the class linguistic majority might be conducive to becoming part

of such communities of practice consisting of “new” newcomers and “older” newcomers.

Finally, there was Fetu, who immigrated to Hawai‘i the previous year. According to Juan, Fetu

was sad to leave his mother in Samoa but realized he needed to “make good” in the U.S. Over

the school year, I observed he progressed fast in English, and was one of the most active class

participants. As a singleton, he spoke only English in class, putting in his questionnaire that this

was “because there are other kids who doesn’t know how to speak my language.”

3.6 The ESL 9/10 Class

3.6.1 The ESL 9/10 Curriculum

Kaori’s class was for 9th and 10th grade aged students whose WIDA scores were between 1.8 and

2.5, meaning they had not yet exited the ESL designation. With 1 on the WIDA scale described

as “Entering,” 2 as “Emerging,” and 3 as “Developing,” students who have scores of about 2

93

speak in “phrases or short sentences” and demonstrate “emerging expressions or ideas.”21 At this

level, they possess only general language rather than vocabulary related to academic subjects,

and cannot yet speak or write an expanded range of sentences of varying linguistic complexity.

In the ESL 9/10 class, there was no set course textbook, but materials included short stories,

poems, verbal analogy worksheets, and teacher-made PowerPoints and handouts. Table 4 below

shows what the class did on each of the days I visited from January to early May.

Table 4 Sampling of Lessons in ESL 9/10 Jan. 17 Civil Rights Movement; Martin Luther King Jr. and the NAACP

Jan. 24 Verbal analogies, synonyms and antonyms, e.g., light : dark :: dry : wet

Jan. 31 “The Gold Cadillac” by Mildred D. Taylor, about an African-American family’s struggle for social mobility

Feb. 7 Analyzing story structure in the “Gold Cadillac,” including inciting incident, rising action, climax, etc.

Feb. 21 Correcting grammar in recent compositions on laptops; verbal analogies practice; poetry-writing according to 5 W’s structure (Who, What, Where…)

Feb. 28 Kaori recruits volunteers for the March 2 Multilingual Conference, a professional development workshop, at the school; students discuss perceptions and stereotypes of ELLs; poetry-writing related to identity

Mar. 7 Poetry-writing workshop by local poet Celeste Gallo, who also gave the same workshop to Juan’s class on the same day

Mar. 28 Continue working on identity poems to be published in a multilingual poetry anthology, co-authored with Juan’s class and a third class

Apr. 4 Electing a class representative to speak at the poetry book launch; writing emails to thank photographers (the students in a visual arts class who took ESL 9/10 students’ photos for the anthology)

Apr. 11 Voting for the book cover of the anthology; lesson on the concepts of “tone” and “mood” featuring movie trailers

21 https://wida.wisc.edu/sites/default/files/resource/Performance-Definitions-Expressive-Domains.pdf

94

Apr. 18 Introduction to argumentation; whole class debate on the pros and cons of having cellphones

Apr. 25 Analysis of an article about a law in Hawai‘i banning use of cellphones while crossing the street; emphasis on academic vocabulary

May 2 Preparing for poetry anthology book launch at the Honolulu Public Library; writing personal notes on bookmarks they will distribute at the reading

Starting in February, Rayna largely took over the class. While I obtained her permission to

record those lessons she taught, I chose not to formally interview her. Because Kaori was the one

who originally agreed to participate in my study, and because she was the official classroom

teacher, I interviewed her about the class’ bi/multilingual language practices and her own

teaching background at the start and end of the data collection period.

3.6.2 Kaori’s Educational and Professional Background

As ESL department head, Kaori managed the changing placements of about 450 students (“443,

to be precise”) in the school ELL program, which she said she was “always updating.” She came

to Hawai‘i about 20 years before to finish her Bachelor of Education and do a Masters, during

which she met her husband and decided to stay. Back in Japan, she had worked for five years at a

school that prepared students for a university entrance exam, a job she enjoyed, but she said it

was more oriented to grammar than “practical things,” or literature—“I loved to read.” Hence,

she sought a career change to teach beyond test preparation.

After becoming a certified teacher in Hawai‘i, she worked as a substitute teacher in

another Filipino-dominant area of Honolulu, and then as a “regular” teacher at an elementary

school near Waikiki, but working at that school made her realize that she enjoyed teaching older

students more. As a result, she applied to and was hired at her current school. At the time of the

study, she was a veteran of the school, having taught there for 13–14 years: “When I started, I

95

taught all the different levels [of ESL].” At this school, she found what had been missing in her

first teaching context, which she returned to in our second interview:

Civic involvement. That’s a part of language learning too. So without knowing what’s

going on in the community, not just yourself—that’s y’know, becoming the part of the

community. … And also (.) holistic approach, I guess? Not just language learners. You

know, my goal is to graduate—help them graduate from high school, but not just

language. … That’s why I found that teaching at the high school and teaching at the

language school is a totally different job.

Given the prevalence of Filipino students in her class, Kaori recognized the importance of

language to her students’ sense of self, but also highlighted the importance of considering others’

needs. She explained:

I encourage them to use first language (.) in class, and I don’t punish them. But at the

same time, I want—I wanna give the equal opportunity so equal chances to, you know,

speak—to (.) to benefit from this privileges. … . I really have to, so—look at it too,

because I don’t want other non-Filipino students to feel intimidated or, like if, treated

unfairly or so. Yeah. So don’t get that same opportunity to use, you know, first language.

While Rayna, the student teacher, did not voice this concern as well, I believe she also felt it, as

classroom management became difficult for her in this class comprised mainly of loud Filipino

boys. A Korean-American who came to Hawai‘i during high school and was pursuing teacher

certification in her mid-20s, Rayna could not tell Filipino languages apart, much less know what

students were saying, though she encouraged students to use their home languages if they needed

96

to.22 In the findings, I show how this encouragement, combined with the boys’ English anxiety,

had an impact on their code-switching and lack of translanguaging-to-learn.

3.6.3 ESL 9/10 Class Dynamics

There were 17 students in ESL 9/10 in 2018-19, and as with English 9, a few came or left

partway through the year. The class leader, Flow-G, and most of his group of “loud” Filipino

boys—Cookie, Aaron, Ricky, Kok, and Simon—were present throughout the school year (all

except for Simon). At the periphery of the class were quieter Filipino boys, Luke and Kyrie,

Filipino girls (Juliana, Mariel, Ruby, and Jennifer), and singletons such as Kaiea (Marshallese),

Binh (Vietnamese), and Summer (who was joined by another Chinese girl in April). Skusta, who

was originally “one of the gang” of Filipino boys, became marginalized over time as the others

made fun of his English performance. Figure 9 shows the class’ social groups from my

perspective, again with letters being shorthand for students’ L1s/HLs—except this time, I put

“F” (Filipino) for all Filipino students since they used this as their lingua franca. The arrow

shows how Skusta was expelled from the dominant group of boys over time, whereas two other

male Filipino students, Luke (who wanted to be a “good” student) and Kyrie (who was very

quiet) did not belong to this group in the first place.

22 Rayna’s encouragement of L1s/HLs in class contrasted with her assessment of her own educational experiences after the study’s formal data collection period. In an electronic message, her partner (my colleague) relayed to me her answer to the fact-check question, “Can you ask her how she would like me to describe her language repertoire?” as “She said that she came to U.S. at the end of 10th grade (high school) / Never spoke korean too. Only English / In school that is (she learned english by only speaking english and not korean).”

97

Figure 9 ESL 9/10 Class Dynamics

In Table 5 below, I specify ESL 9/10 students’ demographic information and home languages (if

known, i.e., if they agreed to participate in the study). Note that everyone in the class is a

newcomer, ranging from very recently arrived to having arrived a year or two before.

Table 5 Students in ESL 9/10

Name Years in Hawai‘i

Relative Arrival

L1/HL Country of Origin

Q AR I

Flow-G 1–2 Newcomer Ilokano and Tagalog

Filipino Y Y Y

Aaron Unknown Newcomer Unknown Filipino Y N N

Ricky Unknown Newcomer Unknown Filipino Y N N

Cookie 1–2 Newcomer Ilokano and Tagalog

Filipino Y Y Y

Kok 1–2 Newcomer Ilonggo Filipino Y Y Y

Skusta 1–2 Newcomer Cebuano Filipino Y Y Y

Simon Unknown Newcomer Unknown Filipino Y N N

Luke Unknown Newcomer Unknown Filipino Y N N

Kyrie < 1 year Newcomer Ilokano and Tagalog

Filipino Y Y N

98

Juliana < 1 year Newcomer Ilokano and Tagalog

Filipino Y Y Y

Mariel < 1 year Newcomer Unknown Filipino Y Y N

Ruby < 1 year Newcomer Unknown Filipino Y Y N

Jennifer < 1 year Newcomer Unknown Filipino Y Y N

Kaiea Unknown Newcomer Marshallese Marshallese Y Y N

Binh Unknown Newcomer Vietnamese Vietnamese Y Y N

Summer Unknown Newcomer Mandarin Chinese Y Y N

Ellen Unknown Newcomer Mandarin Chinese N N N

Based on available data, I chose as focal students three who agreed to all aspects of the study—

Flow-G, Skusta, and Juliana. I found these students to provide the richest data on classroom

language use from different social positions in the class: the leadership of the “in” group (Flow-

G), expulsion from the “in” group (Skusta), and support of the “in” group’s hegemony despite

outsider-ness (Juliana). Later in the school year, however, Juliana resisted the hegemony of the

Filipino boys after some of them undermined her English competence.

3.6.4 ESL 9/10 Focal Students

Flow-G was born in Tarlac City, an ethnic crossroads where a mix of languages are spoken,

including Ilokano, Kapampangan, Pangasinan and Tagalog. Both his parents are of mixed

Ilokano and Tagalog background. He reports that he speaks a mix of Ilokano and Tagalog with

them, whereas they speak Ilokano with each other; he also described Tagalog as his first

language. As far as writing went, he found English the hardest to write in, and admitted he was

not good at reading and writing in Ilokano (never having been schooled in it). However, his

Filipino literacy skills were elevated to the level of artistry. Skilled at composing lyrics and

parodies, he would rap during class about others’ academic abilities.

99

When I asked him how he found Hawai‘i, he said it was “OK,” and that his parents were

working hard at a laundromat. He had an older sibling in a local college. At the end of his

interview, when I asked if he had anything more to say, he told me about his arrival in Hawai‘i:

Yung unang punta ko rito miss… excited miss ganon. Excited. Tapos na hiya pa miss

nung nakarating na kami dito nung—doon po kila tita ko. Kila uncle ko. Kasi bago po pa

lang kami doon. Di pa po namin (.) ka close yung mga tao doon. Tapos nung nag-aral na

ako dito, kinakabahan po ako noon. Kasi baka ma::y, mag-away sakin, mag-bully. Pero

maganda naman po pala. Wala naman po pala. Puro Pilipino rin po kasi (.) noon po di ko

pa kaya magsalita ng English.

When I first came here miss… I was excited y’know. And then embarrassed too miss

when we arrived here—at my aunt’s place. My uncle’s. Because we were just new there.

We hadn’t yet (.) become close to the people there. And then when I came to study here, I

was very anxious then. Because maybe the::re’s, someone who’d pick a fight with me,

bully [me]. But it turned out to be nice. There wasn’t anything after all. Because also

they’re all Filipino (.) back then I still couldn’t speak English.

While Flow-G had only been in Hawai‘i a year and a half, he seemed to have picked up

conversational English quickly. In an interview, Kaori mentioned, “He has more language than

others too. And other people kind of look up to him.” In his interview, Flow-G mentioned that he

used English with non-Filipino friends, his cousins, and his nephews and nieces, who are local.

Thus, he appeared to have a propensity for language learning that transferred across languages.

Skusta, who was born in Kapalaran, Mindanao, and spoke Cebuano as L1, arrived in

Hawai‘i a month after Flow-G (March 2018). I interviewed him and Kok, the other Filipino

student not from Luzon, together in early February (by April, Kok had dissociated himself from

100

Skusta). Much of what they said in the interview indexed their difference from the others; for

example, they reported that they sometimes spoke the Visayan language Ilonggo (Kok’s L1) and

Cebuano, which were cognate languages, to each other and understood each other, but used

Tagalog with the other boys.23 They also talked about their own Tagalog accent in somewhat

deprecating ways; according to Skusta, “Yung mga bisaya, matigas mag-salita [Visayans, miss,

they speak rough],” to which Kok agreed softly: “°Oo miss° [Yes miss].” (While I could not

perceive accent differences when students spoke Filipino, I suspect the students noticed them.)

In terms of their schooling back in the Philippines, they said their teachers taught in

Ilonggo or Cebuano until they moved to the U.S., even in English class. At home, they spoke

their regional languages with their parents; at school, they adjusted to Filipino, even though Kok

said, “Ah (.) kasi po yung iba hindi po nakakaintindi sa akin [Ah it’s because the others don’t

understand me],” to which Skusta added something peculiar—“Oo, minsan hindi namin masalita

ng maayos [Yes, sometimes we can’t say things properly],” attributing misunderstanding to their

Filipino pronunciation rather than to the fact that the others didn’t speak Visayan languages.

Compared to the others, however, they were the most multilingual. When I asked them

how many languages they spoke, gesturing with my hands to indicate levels of proficiency, as it

was hard for me to say this in Filipino, Skusta said he was most confident in Bisaya (Cebuano),

then Tagalog, then Ilonggo, then Ilokano and English. Kok mentioned Ilonggo, then Tagalog,

then English, then Ilokano.

When I asked them if they had literacy skills in their first languages, Kok replied, “Yung

klase po namin (.) Ilonggo po (.) pero yung pagsulat namin Ingles dapat [Our classes (.) in

23 Filipino is the dominant language in Luzon (the northern Philippines), while Cebuano/Bisaya is the lingua franca in the Visayas and Mindanao (the middle and southern Philippines).

101

Ilonggo (.) but have to write in English].” In other words, there appears to be diglossia between

the country’s official languages and regional languages that have led to under-development of

literacy skills in students’ L1s if they are not Filipino. Skusta then made a wry comment: “Grabe

doon sa Pilipinas may seventy-five pero English. At-chaka Pilipino. [It’s extreme that in the

Philippines you get 75% but in English. And Filipino].” As the term “grabe” (extreme) roughly

translates to “Fancy how…”, I understood him to mean “Fancy those people who brag about an

English- and Filipino- medium education even if their average is 75%” (cf. Sandhu, 2015).

When they brought up those who were “magaling sa (good at) English” at their current

school, I asked who these people were, and they mentioned those in JROTC and sheltered for-

credit classes (reminding me of Kix). This, they explained, was the reason they left JROTC: they

had difficulty understanding what people were saying in the club, and were challenged by the

regular presentations and essays.

Juliana, who arrived in Hawai‘i in November 2018 and was new to the class in January

2019, hailed from Ilocos Sur and was of mixed Tagalog and Ilokano heritage. Like Flow-G, she

mentioned she and her brother Kyrie spoke Tagalog better than Ilokano, and this was what she

used with schoolmates. Moreover, she said she could write “knoti lang [just a little]” in Ilokano.

When I asked Juliana how Hawai‘i was and what she liked about it, she mentioned,

similar to Flow-G, that the best thing was “yung mga attitude po ng mga ibang estudiante [the

other students’ attitudes].” When I asked her to explain what was good about their attitudes, she

said: “Mm (.) kahit hindi ka po nila kilala nag-gu-gudmorning po sila sayo, binabati ka palagi”

[Mm (.) even if they don’t know you they say good morning to you, greet you always]. However,

she did not mention if this was because the school had a Filipino majority.

102

3.7 Positionality in the Research Environment

Although classroom linguistic ethnographers are rarely members of the communities on which

they do research, they are not simply “outsiders” coming in to study participants. Creese et al.

(2015) point out that linguistic ethnographers’ multifaceted backgrounds give them a

multifaceted relationship with a site and the people there. For example, Jonsson, a member of

their research team, wrote a journal entry exploring this relationship:

First and foremost, it is practical to understand the languages in which most school events

take place since it allows me to immediately (without interpretation/translation)

understand a particular situation… Second, sharing the same linguistic capital as the

students brings me closer to the “in-group”… Third, the mere fact that I am a bilingual,

even though I might not necessarily be bilingual in the same languages in which the

students are bilingual (for instance, they may position themselves as bilingual in Swedish

and Greek, whereas I position myself as bilingual in Swedish and Spanish) makes us

share the feeling of being a bilingual… Fourth, as a teacher at the school suggested, I

contribute to the legitimization of the minority language Spanish in a context where

Swedish is the dominant majority language by being a Spanish-speaking researcher, thus

raising the status of Spanish in the eyes of the students. (Creese et al., 2015, p. 167)

Here, Jonsson captures four aspects of bi/multilingualism pertinent to linguistic ethnography:

first, bi/multilingual proficiency for practical data collection purposes; second, knowledge of the

group’s language as cultural capital for the researcher; third, a shared identity as bi/multilingual

as cultural capital for the researcher; and fourth, authority conferred upon the researcher’s

languages in the research site, due to the researcher’s presumed academic expertise, and

consequently on the participants who share those languages.

103

I reflect on my own positionality in my research environment with regard to these issues.

My proficiency in Filipino and my access to an Ilokano translator (one of Juan’s former students

that he introduced me to, who was an undergraduate at my university) allowed me to study

Filipino and Ilokano—the first in situ, the second retrospectively. Although I could understand

most Filipino talk on the fly, unless it was very soft or fast, cultural references were lost on me,

and for the most part I had to let them go, since meetings with my translator, who grew up in the

Philippines, had to prioritize Ilokano. When it came to Ilokano, my translator was not only a

translator but a generational and ethnolinguistic culture broker, giving explanations of data I

would otherwise ignore, e.g., he explained that what I heard as “Enzo” was “friend zone,” and

when students kept saying “tree port” during a group activity, he recognized it as a negotiation to

cut the paper into 3/4—a standard size for classroom paper in the Philippines. Moreover, since

our data sessions took place in my graduate student office, which was shared with a Korean

colleague, she overheard one of the dialogues and explained that “tangjinjaem” was not a real

Korean word but one coined by the band BTS. Data collection in LE is thus affected by the

language repertoires and cultural knowledge of the researchers and the circumstances of the

moment. At the same time, a researcher’s linguistic and cultural positionality goes beyond

proficiency in various languages.

Even though I grew up in Canada, I felt recognized as a Filipino by staff and students at

the school, even though I do not speak all of my heritage languages (i.e., not Ilonggo or Waray).

For example, the academic counselors and educational assistants more than once asked me,

“Saan ka sa atin?”—literally: “Where are you with us?” i.e., “Which part of the Philippines are

you from?” Occasionally, I was invited to have lunch with them, and share homemade pancit

(noodles) brought by an educational assistant from Panay in the Visayas. When I told her my

104

grandfather was also from Panay, a primarily Ilonggo (Hiligaynon) speaking region, she taught

me my first few words of Ilonggo. While I do not think that this had a direct bearing on the data

collection, it made me feel welcome and positively affected my other interactions and mental

focus. Kaori’s students, too, also talked freely with me in Filipino, but I used English with Juan’s

students since I almost never heard them speak Filipino. It is possible that some friend groups

who were all Ilokano spoke Ilokano, while mixed friend groups spoke Filipino—or in the case of

He’s group, English. This is an issue that needs further investigation in an ethnography that looks

beyond the classroom rather than being focused on the small cultures of specific classes.

The third issue that Jonsson mentions, that of bi/multilingualism in general, is important

to consider in light of the wider social context. The school celebrated its diversity in cultural

events and in the linguistic landscape; for example, outside the ELL counseling center was a

colorful sign saying “Welcome” in many languages, including Chuukese, Hawaiian, Ilokano,

Marshallese, Samoan, Tagalog, and Vietnamese. Below each translation of “Welcome,” in

smaller print, was the name of the language the word had ostensibly been translated into. While

the Tagalog read “Mabuhay”—an official greeting seen on signs at the Manila airport rather than

something one would say—the Ilokano read “Komusta,” from the Spanish “¿Cómo estás?”

Interestingly, the Tagalog translation is nearly the same: “Kamusta.” The inconsistent

translations reproduce the discourse of Tagalog as an official national language and Ilokano as a

non-official language. In other words, while being a bi/multilingual was the norm in this school

where there was not a single White student to be seen and many staff were also bi/multilingual,

language hierarches existed. I, and my study on translanguaging, were bolstered by the

normalization of bi/multilingualism and from my reception as a Filipino (member of the majority

group).

105

This brings me to the fourth issue: how I must have contributed to the legitimation of

both bi/multilingualism in general (which I embrace) and Filipino-ness in particular (which I

have mixed feelings about, given that the school already had a Filipino majority). It is notable

that all the students who chose to participate in all aspects of my study were of Filipino ancestry.

Since I explained the study in English and Filipino, I may have given the impression that it was

Filipino ELLs or heritage speakers of Filipino, rather than translanguaging, that I was studying. I

also think that ethnocentricity found its way into my subconscious functioning; for example,

when there was a new Filipino girl in Juan’s class, Diana, who was quickly incorporated into the

Ilokano-speaking group’s translanguaging practices, I gave her a pseudonym and invited her into

the study—whereas a new Chinese girl who entered Kaori’s class at the same time only appeared

as “new girl” in my field notes. Even though this girl, to whom I later assigned the pseudonym

“Ellen,” seemed to be an English beginner and was largely silent, Summer was occasionally

asked to explain things to Ellen in Mandarin, and I regret that I did not follow up with Summer

how the conversation went (even if only in field notes rather than audio-recordings). And even

though I did not have a Marshallese or Chuukese translator,24 I could have asked Marshallese

and Micronesian students whether they had used their languages at all at the end of class (e.g.,

writing yes/no on a cue card and a few sentences how, if so). These were all lost opportunities to

work with language minority students who may not have consented to be audio-recorded, but

might have shared more with me if I had been more active in inviting them to do so.

Therefore, I conclude this chapter by acknowledging the self-centeredness of researcher

positionality. At the same time, I make the discussion of ethnocentricity and individual

24 The Federated States of Micronesia has 18 languages, the most widely spoken being Chuukese, Kosraean, Yapese, and Pohnpeian. About half of Micronesians speak Chuukese as L1. Due to colonization, English is also widely used and Japanese spoken by older generations.

106

positionality key themes in this dissertation’s examination of what it would take to create an

equitable bi/multilingual classroom. Again, my research questions were:




policy?



experiences?

In answering these questions and interpreting my findings, I draw on my expertise in types of

multilingual language use, my identity as a bi/multilingual, and my experiences as a relative

newcomer to Hawai‘i and a resident multilingual of Canada.

107

CHAPTER 4

TYPES OF MIXED LANGUAGE USE OBSERVED IN THE TWO CLASSES

This chapter has two main purposes: (1) to illustrate how students spontaneously engaged in

mixed language use indicative of both linguistic fluidity and fixity, and (2) to examine how these

practices occurred often, naturally and spontaneously, compared to others that likely would not

occur without deliberate pedagogical intervention. I first discuss translanguaging and code-

switching to learn, followed by ludic translanguaging, then use of distinct codes in stylization

and language crossing, before addressing the distinction between these spontaneous multilingual

practices and those that likely need educational intervention to be cultivated.

4.1 Translanguaging-to-Learn

In classes where multilingual language use was encouraged to make sense of content, students

took the opportunity to think aloud in multiple languages. Walqui (2006) refers to different

scenarios for languaging aloud that provide opportunities to learn, whether collaborative (e.g.,

getting help from a more knowledgeable peer or working something out with peers) or individual

(i.e., talking to oneself by drawing on inner resources). In both classes, translanguaging helped

mediate learning in pair work, group work, and individual work.

For example, on April 25, two students in ESL 9/10, Juliana and Ruby, initiated

metalinguistic talk with each other while answering questions on an article about a law in

Honolulu that banned cell phone use while driving.

108

Excerpt 20. Translanguaging-to-Learn During Pair Work25

24:30 The girls notice that there are two similar words, mayor and major (as in “major city”), and wonder if they’re related. Juliana says, “Mayor dito.” [It’s mayor here.] Ruby replies, “Ana? [What?] Mayor?” and a few unrecognizable words.26 Juliana then says, “Asan? (2.0) Major yan.” [Where? (2.0) That’s major.] Ruby, now seeming to recognize the difference between the two words, says, “AY major. (1.0) Ano, ano?” [AY major. (1.0) What, what?] Juliana says, “Mayor,” followed by a few Ilokano words, and then “Ayon O” [See there]. Ruby replies, “Teka, may nakita…” [Wait, I saw…] and trails off.

26:20 Ruby says, “Nanaman yung mayor.” [There’s the mayor mentioned again.]

27:00 Juliana gives Ruby an answer: “Ito. … F diyan.” [This. … F there.] Ruby wants to know the textual evidence, asking, “Saan mo nakita?” [Where’d you see it?] Juliana replies in a shrugging voice, “Wa↑la↓” [No↑where↓]; I think she may be suggesting that some answers are main idea answers one has to glean from the whole text.

28:00 Juliana says, “True ba yan?” [Is that true?] Ruby says, “Tingnan mo yung number 23” [i.e., look at line 23].

29:00 They quickly read snatches of text to each other. Juliana says, “Baka ito.” [Maybe this.]

33:45 Ruby says, “Yung itong number one. (1.0) Basahin mo yung question.” [This number one. Read the question.] Juliana says, “Ha?” Ruby repeats the request: “Basahin mo.” [Read it.] Juliana reads, “O. ‘For many other Americans…’” She murmurs something indistinguishable, then says, “OK lang yan sabi ni Ms. Rayna.” [Miss Rayna says that one’s OK.]

43:30 Ruby, recognizing another pair of similarly spelled but semantically different words, says, “…county? (1.0) Sister. Tingnan mo yan. [Look at that.] County o [or] country?” Juliana answers, “Ewan ko. [Beats me.] Miss. Miss. What is this, county or country?” Rayna arrives five seconds later and says, “Can I read the whole sentence? (4.0) County (.) is like (.) area. Yeah. It’s not country. Yeah.” Ruby says, “OK.”

25 I do not present a transcript here but describe events in chronological order by combining notes I took during the observation and after listening to the audio recording. I believe presenting the data in this way gives the clearest picture of what happened over a more extended span of time, with students moving in and out of talk and silence over 20 minutes (see a similar method of presenting translanguaging data in Blackledge & Creese, 2017). 26 In this dialogue, and others in which Filipino-Ilokano distinctions are important, I have put Filipino in typewriter font and Ilokano in calligraphy since my audience might have a hard time telling them apart. At times, English words are in these special fonts as well—in these cases, the English words seem to be mere borrowings, grammatically subordinated in Filipino/Ilokano sentence structures (see Coupland, 2012, for a discussion of this minimal form of translanguaging). Thus, I mark these utterances as being in Ilokano/Filipino.

109

44:20 Kaiea and Ruby exchange a few friendly-sounding but disconnected phrases in English; I hear “You too my friend,” “Uh-huh,” and “It’s OK (laughs).”

45:15 Kaiea reads/thinks aloud to herself, but it is very soft; I cannot tell what language.

45:50 Juliana says, “Another lawmaker?” Ruby replies, “Mm-hm. ‘Lawmaker said…’” Juliana asks, “‘Lawmaker said,’ yun lang?” [‘Lawmaker said,’ is that all?]

Although Ruby and Juliana’s conversation largely involves figuring out the answers to

multiple-choice questions, the girls have extended vocabulary learning moments at 24:30 and

43:30. They also verbalize their thought processes aloud—“There’s the mayor again” (26:20)

and “Maybe it’s this one” (29:00), and check in with each other’s knowledge—“Where’d you

see it?” “Nowhere [in particular]” (27:00). At 45:50, Juliana tries to elicit textual evidence from

Ruby, and in doing so they start to language in English only (e.g., “Another lawmaker?” “Mm-

hm”) in addition to languaging in Filipino around English text (e.g., “‘Lawmaker said,’ yun

lang?” [‘Lawmaker said,’ is that all?]). A minute before, a few shy but friendly words were

exchanged in English with Kaiea; however, this overture is limited as Kaiea was not invited to

language with them to figure out the text.

Excerpt 20 shows that translanguaging-to-learn involves articulating thought processes

aloud, rather than simply mixing languages. In another dialogue, this one from Juan’s class

(March 28), a group of four students languaged trilingually to match the names of characters in

Romeo and Juliet with their descriptions. This also led to students’ attention being drawn to

vocabulary, such as the meaning of the word “suitor.”

Excerpt 21. Translanguaging-to-Learn During Group Work

1 Eufia: (to Rayna) What’s suitor miss?

2 Kix: Suitor like—suitor.

3 Rizze: *FI To ligaw.

To court.

110

4 Kix: *FI Suitor manliligaw [suitor]. (2.0) Court something.

5 Eufia: *IL Ni Romeo? Ni Paris ka di?

It’s Romeo? (10.0) It’s Paris right?

6 Clara: *?? Ni Rosaline di ba?27

Of/It’s Rosaline, right?

7 Eufia: *FI Sino kwan ni ano? Juliet?

Who’s the whatchamacallit of who? Juliet?

8 Rizze: *IL Ni Paris.

It’s Paris.

9 Eufia: *FI Saan?

Where?

10 Rizze: *FI Ayan o.

There see.

This was a rare occasion when the Ilokano students in English 9 used resources from Ilokano,

English, and Filipino to translanguage rather than just resources from Ilokano and English. Since

Ilokano also has a word for “court” (“mangarem,” not “manliligaw,” according to my native

speaker translator), one possible explanation for the Filipino use is Clara’s presence—i.e., she

may have been Filipino-dominant. Unfortunately, Clara did not agree to participate in an

interview, so I know little of her language background, and she did not attend class as often as

the others. While she identified Ilokano as the only non-English language she used in class on

her questionnaire, I also heard her use Filipino occasionally, which may have prompted the other

three students’ Filipino in lines 3, 4, 7, 9, and 10, even though they rarely used this language in

27 Whether Clara’s “Ni Rosaline” should be translated as “[suitor] of Rosaline” (Filipino) or “[suitor] is Rosaline” (Ilokano) is unclear. Also, speakers may treat a borrowed word as native to that language, especially with exclamations like “Saan?” (where) and “Ayan” (there) (ll. 9-10).

111

class. In other words, this excerpt cannot explain, without adequate triangulation, why students

used Filipino in this activity. What it does show is that they translanguaged-to-learn, drawing on

their entire language repertoires during group work, as did Ruby and Juliana in Excerpt 20.

Different languages, used with different people, appear to invite them into the dialogue. In

Excerpt 21, Eufia asks Rayna what “suitor” is in English (l. 1), and while Rayna appears not to

hear, Rizze gives the translation in Filipino (l. 3). Next, Eufia guesses in Ilokano that the suitor in

the play is Romeo (l. 5); however, after ten seconds of checking, she figures out that it is Paris (l.

5). Clara then mentions “Rosaline” (l. 6), the woman Romeo has unrequited love for at the start

of the play. Seeming to dismiss this, Eufia insists on knowing who Juliet’s suitor is, in Filipino

(l. 7), which she rarely used and which seems to be for Clara—at which point Rizze confirms it’s

Paris, in Ilokano (l. 8). Eufia asks for the textual evidence, in Filipino (l. 9), and Rizze points it

out in Filipino (l. 10). Overall, this dialogue appears to show more translanguaging-to-learn

rather than code-switching because even though different languages can usually be identified,

their functions do not seem to be distinct.

In addition to translanguaging-to-learn during group work, students also did so to

themselves. This is apparent in Excerpt 22, which captures Cookie’s thoughts during a lesson on

the literary devices “tone,” and “mood,” involving movie trailers (April 11). As with Excerpt 20,

I do not present a transcript but describe speech events by combining field notes and audio-

recorded dialogue to illustrate what happened over a more extended length of time.

Excerpt 22. Translanguaging-to-Learn with Oneself

37:10 Cookie asks Rayna how to spell “trailer”; Ruby tells him. The educational assistant also answers.

37:40 Cookie: “Trailer is the (indistinguishable word in Filipino), tractor. (chuckles)” [He seems to realize there are two meanings of the word; perhaps he’s just becoming familiar with the movie meaning.]

112

42:50 Cookie chuckles multiple times during the comical fan-made trailer of Frozen. He seems to understand, yet after the trailer he announces, “Wala akong naintindihan doon” [I didn’t get any of that].

49:40 Cookie: “One more [word]. Mood. Like—” Ruby: “Yung nararamdaman mo.” [What you feel.]

51:30 Cookie and Ruby discuss how to spell “funny”; Cookie says “double n.”

52:20 Cookie: (sings a Frozen parody) “Do you want to make iNUman?” [The word “snowmān” (in a Filipino accent) puns with “inumān” (drink alcohol)] Cookie continues: “Do you want aLAK today?” [alak = alcohol]

58:00-59:00 Students give answers regarding the mood in another fan-made trailer of Frozen, which makes it look like a horror film: “restless” (Cookie), “nervous” (male student), anxious (Aaron); however, Cookie cannot explain his answer when Rayna asks why. He says, “Because you cannot think eh um good. (4.0) You think—that’s—you—your sight is like that. Never mind ano [what]. J” Even though he gives up, this struggle shows him languaging when asked a question by the teacher.

59:25 (papers ruffling; Cookie looking through handouts) Cookie: “Miss, what is irritated?”

At 37:40, Cookie makes a comment, seemingly to himself, that there is another meaning

of “trailer” (“tractor”) even though the word has been defined in the lesson as the advertisement

for a movie. At 49:40, he and Ruby discuss the definition of “mood” in Filipino, and at 52:20,

Cookie does ludic translanguaging by singing a Frozen parody in Filipino.

These findings suggest that multilingual students often translanguage to process class

material, and do ludic translanguaging when they feel comfortable doing so. However, those who

are L1-dominant and emergent English users may be apt to use L1 much more, translanguaging

around English text in L1 (Excerpt 20), while students with higher proficiencies in both/all

languages appear to use them more dynamically (Excerpt 21). In Excerpt 22, Cookie uses

bilingual linguistic resources when talking to himself or with Ruby, yet switches to monolingual

English when attempting to answer a question posed by the teacher (58:00–59:00), because

Rayna does not speak Filipino and also because this is a message for the whole class. This

attempt to use monolingual English causes him to stop short because of vocabulary gaps in

113

English; his answer to Rayna’s question, which asks him to explain why he thinks the trailer

mood is “restless,” is: “Because you cannot think eh um good. (4.0) You think—that’s—you—

your sight is like that. Never mind ano [what]. J” In other words, even though translanguaging-

to-learn involves the use of one’s whole language repertoire to make meaning, audience needs

are taken into account when choosing which languages to use when, and there can be tradeoffs

between maximizing individual languaging potential and making sure others understand.

In the next section, I address code-switching in relation to curricular activity, before

moving on to types of mixed language use related to identity positioning.

4.2 Code-Switching in Classroom Learning Activities

Code-switches related to classroom learning often occurred when the need arose to frame an

utterance in one language with metacommentary in another language. One of the most

conscientious code-switchers was Kix, who had bi/multilingual academic proficiency in English

and Ilokano; he used these two languages to create pedagogical juxtapositions when assisting

peers with literary analysis. For example, in Excerpt 23, he explained to his group an extended

metaphor in Sherman Alexie’s novel Flight. Alexie refers to overwhelming life challenges as

“broken dams and floods,” to people who can guide us through these as “lifeguards,” and to

creative outlets, like drawing or writing, which help us cope with difficult times, as “life boats.”

Excerpt 23. “Life Guards and Life Boats”

1 Kix: Like, when you hear about the drowners [i.e., people who are going through hardship] and like (.) some people (Eufia yawns) are like lifeguards and cartoons [i.e., creative hobbies] are the lifeboats—

2 Female student:

Ngi.

Ugh.

3 Aliah: I’m sorry, I cannot listen!

114

4 Kix: (laughs) It’s like you have hope (.) saying that you have saviors, even though they’re just (.) cartoons or people that could (.) yeah. You know what I mean.

5 Juan: ’Kay why don’t you explain what you’re trying to say in a different way.

6 Kix: So, if people are readers, read the quotes, if they can infer that—those are—if they can infer that the floods are the problems, and they hear that um (.) there are lifeguards inside the boats that could save them— (sighs) OK. Narigrigat ngarud nokua diba (.) kasi (.) like (.) amom no mangeg mo ket kasla adda hope mo nga masagip pelang, [It’s harder you know (.) because (.) like (.) if you could hear it feels like there’s hope that you could be saved], unlike, if you don’t hear them, like, ‘Oh I’m gonna die.’ And if you hear that there’s life saviors in life boats around, like, you can get hope by being saved. (1.0) You know what I mean?

7 Aliah: Hope?

8 Kix: Hopeful.

9 Juan: So basically no mabasa da [if they’re able to read] these characters are being saved.

10 Kix: Yeah.

11 Juan: Ma-feel da—

They can feel…

12 Kix: Like, they’re hope. Hopeful.

13 Aliah: Ohh!

14 Kix: You know what I mean now.

15 Aliah: Yes.

16 Juan: Kay put that in a sentence!

In lines 1-3, Kix is losing the group as he tries to explain the extended metaphor, with a female

student groaning and Aliah declaring she can’t listen anymore. Still, he persists, mitigating his

lecture with a laugh and an encouraging “You know what I mean” (l. 4). Juan then suggests

explaining it “in a different way” (l. 5), which Kix seems to interpret as a request for Ilokano

usage. After explaining one scenario (the positive one) in Ilokano, “Narigrigat ngarud nokua diba

115

(.) kasi (.) like (.) amom no mangeg mo ket kasla adda hope mo nga masagip pelang” [It’s

harder you know (.) because (.) like (.) if you could hear it feels like there’s hope that you could

be saved], Kix provides the contrasting negative scenario in English: “unlike, if you don’t hear

them, like, ‘Oh I’m gonna die.’” (l. 6). He then repeats the positive scenario in English: “And if

you hear that there’s life saviors in life boats around, like, you can get hope by being saved” (l.

6). My overall impression is that he is trying to keep Ilokano to a minimum, to give Aliah just

enough that she needs to understand. In this sense, Kix is trying to be helpful, but he is also

withholding aid to a degree—perhaps to “push” Aliah’s development in English. Aliah, grasping

the main theme, says, “Hope?” (l. 7), and Kix repeats, “Hopeful” (l. 8).

Next, Juan says, “So basically no mabasa da [if they’re able to read] these characters are

being saved” (l. 9). This code-switch organizes information differently from Kix’s: instead of

two separate outcomes, the two languages separate the story world (“these characters are being

saved”) and the reader’s interpretation (“no mabasa da” / “if they’re able to read”). Kix

corroborates Juan’s statement with “Yeah” (l. 10), and Juan uses Ilokano again, creating two

parallel statements in Ilokano: if “mabasa da” [if they read…], “ma-feel da” (ll. 9, 11) [they will

feel…], with Kix finishing the sentence in English: “Like, they’re hope. Hopeful” (l. 12),

prompting Aliah’s “Ohh!” (l. 13) to demonstrate understanding.

In this dialogue, Kix and Juan use pedagogical code-switches to organize information,

such as two different fates the character can have or the reader’s world versus the character’s

world. Both Juan and Kix are translanguaging, and Aliah is also, but to a lesser degree (more

receptive than productive). Besides one-word statements like “Hope?”, “Ohh!” and “Yes,” and

aside from the fact that she did understand the theme in the end, she is not the main one

producing language throughout the exchange. Kix’s “You know what I mean now” (l. 14) and

116

Juan’s “Kay put that in a sentence!” (l. 16) reinforces a social order in which Kix is her language

broker.

Interestingly, this social order may reflect Aliah’s own preferences. Although she did not

consent to be interviewed for the study, she reported on her questionnaire that she “rarely” used

her other language, Ilokano, in English class, which is corroborated by the audio-recordings.

Thus, even though she certainly had receptive proficiency in Ilokano, Aliah did not demonstrate

productive proficiency in Ilokano during bilingual code-switching to develop oral English skills,

in contrast to a new student, Diana, whom I discuss next.

On April 11, the class was learning about the genre of tragedy to prepare for their Romeo

and Juliet unit. After having them brainstorm definitions of tragedy in small groups, Juan had

each group report to the class. Diana, who had just arrived that month, sat at a table with Kix,

Rizze and Eufia, all of whom had been living in Hawai‘i for 1–2 years. The dialogue begins with

Eufia inviting Rizze to share her answer with the class.

Excerpt 24. Code-Switching to Scaffold (Part 1)

1 Eufia: Kay. Rizze.

2 Rizze: For me I consider tragic is when someone is been accident or been robbing. Robbery.

3 Eufia: Diana. What did you write?

4 Diana: Oh my gosh.

5 (about half a minute of awkward silence; recorder picks up indistinct whispers, presumably from Diana’s groupmates)

6 Eufia: (audibly) Robbery. Kidnapping.

7 Rizze: Kidnapping kunam lattan.

Just say kidnapping.

8 Kix: Wen, isu lattan iti ikabil mon.

117

Yeah, just put that one.

9 (12 seconds of silence)

10 Kix: Deta isurat mod deta accident. Just like say, “I consider accident as tragedy.”

So that one you wrote accident. Just like say, “I consider accident as tragedy.”

11 Diana: I consider accident as tragedy.

12 Eufia: Mm.

13 Juan: ’Kay, she considers accidents as tragic.

This dialogue shows a bilingual community of practice working like a well-oiled machine. As

their group’s turn comes, Eufia first invites Rizze in English to give her answer (l. 1). Rizze

gives a general but reasonable answer, “For me I consider tragic is when someone is been

accident or been robbing. Robbery” (l. 2). Eufia, continuing to act as moderator, asks Diana for

her answer next (l. 3). Diana’s “Oh my gosh” (l. 4), followed by silence, indicates her paralysis.

Everyone waits patiently, and the recorder picks up indistinct whisperings from her groupmates,

presumably of support. Their words become louder; Eufia gives a few candidate words, in

English, including “robbery,” which Rizze already mentioned, and “kidnapping,” which is new

(l. 6). Rizze then provides instructions in Ilokano: “Kidnapping kunam lattan [Just say

kidnapping]” (l. 7). Kix follows Rizze by saying “Wen, isu lattan iti ikabil mon. [Yeah, just put

that one]” (l. 8) in Ilokano. After 12 more seconds of silence, Kix reminds Diana in Ilokano that

she wrote “accident” on her worksheet during brainstorming, then models the English sentence

for her: “‘I consider accident as tragedy’” (l. 10). Diana repeats this sentence verbatim (l. 11),

Eufia says “Mm” approvingly (l. 12), and Juan repeats the answer for the class: “she considers

accidents as tragic” (l. 13).

118

What is remarkable here is not only the level of encouragement offered to Diana, but her

groupmates’ attunement to where she is—they adjust their help to be more or less explicit based

on the line-by-line unfolding of the interaction. While Eufia at first expects Diana to give an

answer as Rizze does, Diana unexpectedly freezes. The group waits, but eventually they decide

to “feed” her possible answers. At first they assume all Diana needs are the key words (ll. 6-8),

but this results in a further 12 seconds of silence. Finally, Kix realizes that he needs to build on

something Diana wrote to prepare, which she has forgotten, and that he needs to give her the

whole sentence frame in English: “I consider X as tragedy” (l. 10). Diana takes this up by

repeating it aloud (l. 11), and Juan reinforces it by repeating it for the class (l. 13). These footing

changes suggest Goffman’s (1981) discourse roles at play: the animator is the one who says the

words, the author is the one who composed them, and the principal is the one whose views the

words represent. While the students author the script for Diana, and animate the words for her as

an illustration of what she must do, they ultimately acknowledge her as the author, and even as

the principal, with Juan acknowledging that she considers accidents as tragic.

Diana’s willingness to speak to Ilokano students in Ilokano appeared to lead not only to

translanguaging-to-learn but to participation in a code-switching community of practice that

orchestrated frontstage English production and backstage bilingual brainstorming to prepare her

to share thoughts with the class or to put ideas down on paper that were attributed to her. Such

practices are different from those which relegate the L1/HL to social or informal domains—

important social and academic work can be done in this language. In Juan’s English 9 class,

students translanguaged while thinking aloud during group work, but English was used when the

whole class was addressed (see Bunch, 2013, on the language of ideas versus the language of

display).

119

Due to these levels of support, it was not long before Diana became a confident class

participant. On April 18, she was more active in producing her own meanings during an exercise

with Kix that involved finding adjectives for characters in Romeo and Juliet.

Excerpt 25. Code-Switching to Scaffold (Part 2)

1 Diana: Helpful. Ni kua ni Benvolio ket helpful?

What’s-his-name is Benvolio is helpful?

2 Kix: How come?

3 Diana: Ay no. (2.0) Act One Scene One. Napan naganawa.28

Ay isn’t it. (2.0) Act One Scene One. He went and interceded.

4 Kix: Sino?

Who?

5 Diana: Benvolio.

6 Kix: Apay?

Why?

7 Diana: Helpful.

8 Kix: OK helpful. Apaynaganawa.

OK helpful. Why he interceded.

9 Diana: Cause the fight.

10 Kix: Why is there a fight?

11 Diana: Shut up already. There’s too many questions.

12 Kix: (laughs and changes the topic)

In lines 1-3, Diana initiates a question-and-answer sequence, asking in Ilokano if Kix agrees that

Benvolio can be described with the adjective “helpful.” Kix asks in English, “How come?” to

28 Note that key terms such as the personality adjective “helpful” and citation information (“Act One Scene One”) are in English, as these are what they need to put down on the worksheet for Benvolio, but most of the reasoning processes are in Ilokano.

120

which Diana provides the evidence in Ilokano: “Act One Scene One. Napan naganawa.” [He

went and interceded.] After this, the languages become switched: Ilokano for asking, English for

answering, prompting Diana to give the same information in English. Kix asks, “Who?” in

Ilokano (l. 4); Diana says, “Benvolio” (l. 5); Kix says, “Why?” in Ilokano (l. 6); Diana says,

“Helpful” (l. 7). This is not enough for Kix, who presumably wants the explanation about

Benvolio interceding, in English. Kix’s next line is bilingual—“OK helpful. Apaynaganawa.

[Why he interceded]”—prompting an explanation, and Diana mentions the fight (l. 9),

maintaining the English she has been practicing so far. Kix probes more, asking the reason for

the fight (l. 10), but Diana apparently has had enough (l. 11), and Kix lets the lesson go for now.

It is important to recognize the important role that code-switching, a social practice in

which participants orient to languages as distinct, plays in scaffolding learning—including

activities that are student-initiated. In Excerpt 25, Diana was supported to work things out in

Ilokano (with English coaching), then to say the things she had worked out in English (with

Ilokano coaching), even though I think these practices came to Kix subconsciously, given his

high bilingual proficiency and peer teaching experience.

Next, I discuss forms of mixed language use that were geared more towards the social life

of the class—including events that involved playfulness, mockery, or identity claims.

4.3 Ludic Translanguaging (Polylanguaging)

Many instances of ludic translanguaging occurred with students’ awareness that they were being

audio-recorded. For example, on January 24, Cookie spoke into the recorder a minute into class:

Cookie: Ako po ay si [states his entire full name]. (3.0) Ako po ay nandito ngayon.

(snickers) Sabi nila ako ay (.) ako raw ay (snickers, laughs) nagbebenta ng gum J.

121

I [+polite marker “po”] am [states his entire full name]. (3.0) I po am here today.

(snickers) They say I’m (.) I’m (snickers, laughs) selling gum. J

I took Cookie to be stating his name partly to help me organize my data; however, after

introducing himself formally, he makes a mock confession regarding what his classmates say

about him—telling on each other in non-serious ways being a regular form of amusement among

these boys. I believe his pause and snickering before he reveals the accusation—selling gum—is

meant to be anticlimactic.29

Another example of ludic translanguaging spoken into the recorder comes from Rizze.

This one occurred on February 7, less than a minute into the class:

Excerpt 26. Ludic Opener

1 Rizze: What’s up madlang people? Ako pala si Rizze na nagbabalita ngayong araw na ito. (girls giggle) Alam n’yo ba ang gagawin natin? Yay yay yay mag jakol-jakol tayo. (girls giggle) Ito pala si Eufia, na nag (indistinguishable).

What’s up all the people? By the way I’m Rizze that’s giving you the news today. (girls giggle) Do you know what we’re going to do? Yay yay yay we’re going to jack up [masturbate]. (girls giggle) This is Eufia by the way, who’s (indistinguishable).

2 Clara: Hala (.) di marunong mag-Tagalog.

Uh-oh (.) doesn’t know how to speak Tagalog.

A google search reveals that the slang term “madlang people” (l. 1) comes from the popular TV

show “Showtime” (in Filipino) in which hosts great the audience by addressing them as

“madlang [all the] people.” As a pretend Showtime host, Rizze introduces the activity of the day,

29 Additionally, it is possible that Cookie is alluding to the people arrested or executed on the streets by police in the Philippines, having been accused of selling drugs. (A week before, during a lesson on Martin Luther King, he had asked Kaori whether civil rights movements could involve vigilantes, producing the word “vigilante” himself.) It is also possible that Cookie could have been referring to local current events, or students at the school accused of selling drugs. Unfortunately, I neglected to ask him about what he meant in this event when I interviewed him.

122

which is to masturbate, “jakol-jakol” being a borrowed term from the English “jack up.” She

then indicates Eufia, who she says is “nag” [+ verb], “nag” being the “–ing” marker. The verb

that Rizze presents Eufia as doing is indistinguishable—possibly because Rizze is too shy to say

it, or because she doesn’t know it. Clara takes this as a vocabulary gap, and remarks that Rizze

doesn’t know Tagalog (l. 2). Like Cookie’s remark about gum possession, this display evokes

background knowledge of Filipino current events or culture. At the same time, universal

adolescent concerns are present: relations with peers, selling prohibited items at school,

discovering sexuality. These same issues also reflect course content, such as “coming of age” in

English 9 and civil rights in ESL 9/10.

A fair amount of ludic translanguaging occurred between the friends Rizze and Eufia,

who enjoyed Filipino and Korean dramas, and commented from time to time on the hypothetical

romance between Rizze and He.30 In telling this in-group narrative, which spanned the better part

of the academic year, they drew on stylized phrases from Filipino dramas, as seen in Excerpt 27

(January 17), a dialogue that took place when He, Rizze, and Eufia shared a small table.

Excerpt 27. “Friend-Zo::ne, Friend-Zo::ne”

1 Eufia: Ano He? [What He?] He’s wife. (giggles) She said (.) she’s your wife.

2 He: Yeah you wish.

3 Eufia: Aw::w.

4 Rizze: Ouch. My heart.

5 Eufia: Friend-zo::ne, friend-zo::ne.

6 Rizze: *FI Mahal ko yan.

I love that one.

30 See Georgakopoulou (2005) for a sociolinguistic treatment of the phenomenon of adolescent female friend groups creating ongoing hypothetical narratives about men they met regularly.

123

7 Eufia: *FI Hindi na ata kita crush, mahal na kita.

You’re not my crush anymore, I love you now.

8 Rizze: *IL Di kanta ti “much better sayo”?

What was that song again—“much better for you”?

9 Eufia: *FI (sings) Di na ko nag aasa…

(sings) I don’t hope anymore…

10 Rizze: *FI (dramatic tone) Sana di na lang ako nag dala ng chokolate. Ay love letter sayo.

If only I hadn’t brought chocolate. Ay a love letter for you.

11 Eufia and Rizze: *FI

(singing) Kung hindi mo lang ako sasagotin, / Pwede ba wag mon a lang ako pumuntahin.

If you’re not gonna answer me / Then don’t come round courting me.

12 Eufia: *FI Sana di na lang ko (.) hala. Sana (.) ano?

If only I hadn’t (.) uh-oh. If only (.) what?

13 Eufia and Rizze: *FI

(singing) Systema natin ay ganun pa din.

Our system’s the same-old-same-old.

14 (song continues)

15 Eufia: You looking at me.

16 He: I’m looking at the paper!

First, Eufia tells He that Rizze called herself his wife, which he recoils against, causing Eufia to

say “Friend-zo::ne, friend-zo::ne”—i.e., your crush only wants to be your friend (l. 5). This is

ironic because in fact, it is He who has the crush on Rizze, and the girls know it. In lines 7-8,

Eufia and Rizze recite cliché lines from Filipino soap operas in front of him,31 then Rizze asks

Eufia (in Ilokano, their default language of communication) how a Filipino song by rapper

Skusta Clee went (l. 8), with the phrase “much better sayo…” [much better for you]. Eufia

31 E.g., “Di na ko nag aasa” [I don’t hope anymore] and “Sana di na lang ako” [If only I hadn’t].

124

demonstrates (l. 9), and the girls proceed to sing this song, after which Rizze recites another

cliché romantic line (l. 10) about regret, putting her own spin on it by mentioning “bringing

chocolate” as the thing she regrets doing for He, as she has the reputation as the one who brings

chocolates and other snacks to class. The girls then continue with the song (ll. 11-13) until Eufia

snaps out of it by saying to He, “You looking at me” (l. 15) in English. He was likely doing so

because he suspected being mocked in their language (which he referred to as “Filipino” in an

interview, unaware it is two languages).

In more extended instances of ludic translanguaging such as this one, there are multiple

layers of meaning, some available only to select participants. Eufia and Rizze cannot prevent He

from hearing what they are saying, but they create different layers of knowingness through code-

switching. As Goffman (2001) notes, “Each increase or decrease in layering—each movement

closer to or further from the ‘literal’—carries with it a change in footing” (p. 108). These

changes in Excerpt 27 can be seen in the switches between Ilokano and stylized Filipino (ll. 8,10)

and the switches into English addressed to He (ll. 1, 15).

In the ESL 9/10 class, Flow-G, who was Filipino-dominant, created alternative Skusta

Clee lyrics on the fly to make announcements about his peers. In the following excerpt from

April 11, he began by teasing Ricky with the song Eufia and Rizze were singing (If you’re not

gonna answer me / Then don’t come round courting me), rhyming as he went:

Excerpt 28. Alternative Lyrics

1

Flow-G:

(sings) Kung si Ricky ay hindi maka-pasa:: Hindi bigyan ang pera niya:: Kasi hindi (tapping on table) naman siya nakapasok Sa iskul niya, nagtatambay lang siya kung saan-saan. Para hindi na siya mag-a::ral, saying lang ang ba::on (a boy laughs) ni Ricky (Juliana laughs)

(sings) If Ricky can’t pass Don’t give him money

125

2

Because he didn’t (tapping on table) get to attend In his school, just hanging around wherever Since he didn’t learn, lunch money wasted (a boy laughs) of Ricky (Juliana laughs)

(Flow-G apparently notices Skusta sleeping) (sings) Kung si Skusta ay natutulog la::ng Huwag mo na lang siya papasuki::n. >E wala naman talaga siyang ala::m< (drumming) Kung hindi matalog at wala naman ibang alam gawi::n.

(sings) If Skusta’s only going to sleep Then don’t make him come to school. >Eh he doesn’t really know anything anyway< (drumming on table) If he’s sleeping and doesn’t know how to do anything else.

3 Rayna: You’re bothering him.

4 Flow-G: No miss. I’m not bothering.

5 Rayna: You had his name in your song.

6 (Flow-G doesn’t reply.)

7

Skusta: (sitting up and singing) Kung si Skusta ay natutulog Huwag mo nang gisingin baka naginip yan.

(sitting up and singing) If Skusta is sleeping Don’t wake him, maybe he’s dreaming.

Flow-G’s ludic translanguaging here is also a form of code-switching that allows him to observe

to his peers that Ricky skips class and Skusta doesn’t understand much, below the teacher’s full

level of awareness. Even though Rayna suspects that Flow-G was teasing Skusta because she

heard Skusta’s name in the song (ll. 3, 5), she doesn’t know exactly what he said.

The co-occurrence of ludic translanguaging with code-switching shows that switching

into L1s/HLs leads to conversations or jokes with a restricted audience, though these are not

necessarily disrespectful of peers, and can even lighten the mood and build rapport (e.g., Rizze’s

“Showtime” imitation in Excerpt 26). Regarding these moments, Juan said in an interview:

126

…those conversations are (.) not hurtful, you know? I don’t think it’s going to cause um

(.) destruction (.) within the classroom or to another student, because, native speakers do

that often, so, like, I cannot take that away.

Similarly, when I mentioned to Kaori some of the jokes that the boys made during class, such as

pretending to be radio announcers or stating “Mayday, mayday, I need backup” into the recorder

(as Skusta habitually did), she commented,

They’re still kids. So sometimes I have to give some leeway (.) to be (.) a kid. You know,

I’m OK for them to goof around once in a while. But not all the time. (laughs)

Moreover, because ludic translanguaging often co-occurs with culture-specific content, not

allowing it in L1s/HLs would deprive multilingual students from doing activities that

monolingual students engage in to build rapport and joke around in non-problematic ways. At

the same time, mocking or disrespectful statements are harder to police when spoken in

languages the teacher does not understand. Since banning these languages entirely would “throw

the baby out with the bathwater,” so to speak, classroom management and class cohesiveness is

necessary to ensure that students deploy their linguistic resources respectfully.

4.4 Self- and Other-Stylization

Since stylization involves linguistic resources that deviate from those expected in context,

moments of stylization did not involve “default codes”—not Ilokano in English 9 or Filipino in

ESL 9/10. Rather, Filipino was used as a ludic stylization device by Ilokano students in English 9

(e.g., Excerpt 27), while non-Tagalog Philippine languages were used as self-stylization devices

by Filipino students in ESL 9/10.

In ESL 9/10, almost all non-English language use was in Filipino, so it was only on

occasion that I noted other Filipino languages that I did not understand, but such phrasings did

127

not expand into full-fledged conversations. At the same time, students had discussions about

other Philippine languages using Filipino as the language for doing so, and these were related to

both ethnic identity claims and displays of knowledge:

Excerpt 29. Heritage Languages and Self-Stylization

1 Flow-G: *FI Ilokano ako gago.

I’m Ilokano dumbass.

2

3

4

Aaron: *FI Pero sakin ka nagtatanong pag Ilokano gago.

But you ask me how to say things in Ilokano dumbass.

(laughter)

Pero yung iba hindi ko naintindihan.

But the other things I can’t understand.32

5 Male student: *FI

Ako rin Bisaya e. (4.0) Nakaintidi din ako kasi Binibisaya.

Me too for Bisaya. (4.0) I can understand Bisaya.

6 Aaron: *FI Ilokano sa bahay. Pag “o-o nga,” “wen ngarud.”

Ilokano at home. To say “o-nga” [“yes” in Filipino], “wen ngarud” [“yes” in Ilokano].

7

Male student: *IL

Manganen kano?33

Did you eat yet?

8 Aaron:

*FI à *IL

Pero tinanong mo, “ngangankan ka na?”

But to ask, “did you eat yet?”

In this dialogue, several boys position themselves as knowers of non-Tagalog Philippine

languages; first, they identify as Ilokano or Bisaya (ll. 1-5), with Aaron making the qualifying

statement that he doesn’t understand everything in Ilokano (l. 4) even though he is Ilokano. He

32 As Johnstone (2007) notes, people do not need to speak a language extensively to claim an “expert” identity with regard to certain of its features. Note how Aaron still goes on to explain how to say things in Ilokano (ll. 6, 8) despite attesting to limited proficiency in it (l. 4). 33 This is an idiomatic greeting, like “How are you?”

128

then illustrates how “yes” is different across Tagalog and Ilokano (l. 6), after which another boy

shows he knows a greeting in Ilokano (l. 7). Following this, Aaron gives another version of the

same greeting in Ilokano (l. 8). All of these interactions are framed in Filipino, the language used

to talk about what other languages one knows, and to teach and demonstrate Ilokano (the next-

most-shared Philippine language in the class).

While instances of self-stylization tended to be lexical and phrasal, demonstrating

“ethnic” words and phrases (Canagarajah, 2012), instances of other-stylization in oral

conversation tended to focus on others’ mispronunciations, and occur on the heels of

pronunciation errors—accents and pronunciation being a charged topic among students. In an

interview, Juan remarked on the need to have conversations about these:

[T]hey laugh at each other’s accent, but I don’t think they understand (2.0) why the

accent happens, or the effect of the (3.0) like, when they’re bickering or laughing at a

student. They do it to each other, but I don’t think they understand the importance of—

there’s the conversation all the time about ‘accent is OK.’ A lot of conversations about

like, ‘Why does this student or even why does Mr. Juan misuse gender pronouns all the

time, or why is this student mispronouncing F, P,’ and all those things. Yeah.

I noticed that even though students accepted each other’s accents without any special notice in

most everyday communication, these could still be held up for scrutiny at any time. Juan narrated

how he used his own English accent and errors (e.g., slips of the tongue regarding pronouns) to

show that language transfer is unremarkable and happens to even the most proficient English

speakers. Still, however, students in both classes were occasionally teased for nonstandard

pronunciation, with others echoing the “error” right after it was made. For example, in Excerpt

30 (February 28), the class gave Skusta a hard time about his pronunciation when Rayna asked

129

each person to talk about their hobbies as a self-introduction to the three new students Ruby,

Luke, and Simon.

Excerpt 30. Playing Cheese

1 Rayna: So when someone asks you what is your—what do you like to do, what is your answer?

2 Two male students:

Play basketba::all.

3 Male student:

Homework.

4 Rayna: So you can say I like (.) to::o something… I want you to share something that you’re proud of. … So should we start from Skusta? What do you like to do? Something that you’re proud of.

5 Skusta: (mumbles an indistinguishable response)

6 Rayna: So for example it can be sports. It can be basketball, or it can be (.) volleyball, or it can be playing video games, some kind of activities.

7 Skusta: I like to play (.) chɪs.

8 Male students:

(repeating) Cheese.

9 (laughter, Filipino boys and Juliana)

10 Kok: Skusta likes chess.

11 (more laughter as students repeat: “Chess!” “Cheese!”)

12 Male student:

I like to play cheese o.

13 Male student:

Me too.

14 Cookie: Cheese, eating cheese.

15 Rayna: I don’t think it’s funny.

16 Female student:

Yeah.

17 Rayna: I don’t think it’s cool—’cuz it’s not funny to me. Do you want me to laugh at you when you make mistake?

130

18 Male student:

No miss.

19 Rayna: We are not showing respect, yah? Let’s show respect. (She elicits more answers; “I like to play cheese” muttered surreptitiously.)

Note how Rayna frames this activity as one in which people share things they are good at. When

Skusta mumbles an answer, she provides several options that he can say, including “sports,”

“basketball,” “volleyball,” and “video games” (l. 6). Instead of choosing among these options,

Skusta ventures an authentic answer, but with some evident uncertainty as to how to pronounce

it, as shown by the pause in “I like to play (.) chɪs” (l. 7). His guess as to pronunciation is wrong,

and other Filipino boys pounce on it in a series of latching turns (ll. 8, 11, 12, 13, 14). Juliana

also laughs, but doesn’t say anything. Interestingly, Kok (who was recorded teasing Skusta about

his grammar earlier in the period) comes to his defense here (“Skusta likes chess”; l. 10), and so

does an unidentifiable girl (possibly the new girl, Ruby) who says “Yeah” (l. 16) after Rayna

tells them it isn’t funny (l. 15). Still, the “cheese” mistake continues to be commented on quietly

even as Rayna moves on (l. 19).

Other-stylization could also be used to point out the pronunciation mistakes of heritage

speakers of Philippine languages, as in the following example from a multi-class poetry

workshop. Students were taking turns reading “Tell them” poems aloud, about memories from

their countries of origin; Jhon was sharing about the adobo cooked by his relative and

mispronounced several words. Elsewhere in the room, where the recorder was, Kix, Eufia, and

their friend Konan (Kok’s brother, whom Kix and Eufia talked to in Filipino), took note.34

34 I obtained Konan’s assent to include these dialogues in which he was a participant, and took his parents’ permission for Kok to participate in the study as extending their consent to Konan.

131

Excerpt 31. “Mantɛka”

1 Jhon: …a sacred ocean (.) dark sauce, maybe soka [Kix: “suka”] diving into a boiling (.) bowl of boiling (.) mantɛka? (others snicker) Tell her I miss her cooking.

2 Kix: Mantɛka?

3 Konan: Mantɛka.

4 Eufia: (laughs)

5 Kix: Ano yon? Oh, [oil!

What’s that? Oh, [oil!

6 Eufia: [Mantika. Oil.

7 (laughter)

8 Jhon: Tell them I miss the taste of the mouth-watering brew.

Just as Skusta’s peers passed over his bid to show what he was good at, i.e., his chess skills, due

to a focus on his pronunciation, Kix, Konan, and Eufia, by latching on to Jhon’s pronunciation,

appear to miss the crafted language of the poem, such as “sacred ocean of dark sauce” and

“mouth-watering brew.” In other words, commenting on and stylizing others’ accents appears to

take up a lot of cognitive focus.

However, not all stylization invoked the students’ own ethnic backgrounds. In the next

section, language crossing, I explore how students used stylization with non-heritage languages.

4.5 Language Crossing

Rampton (1995) described two kinds of language crossing: (1) taking up a language or dialect

that is not of your heritage but that you feel is yours, along with other non-heritage speakers

(e.g., Jamaican Creole among his participants), and (2) language crossing as dynamic stance-

taking, such as putting on a temporary posh, Cockney, or “fresh off the boat” Asian accent to

indicate flirtatiousness, irreverence, feigned deference, etc. Both types of language crossing were

evident in my data.

132

As K-pop fans, Kix, Eufia, and Konan enjoyed trying out Korean vocatives for each

other, namely, “oppa” (big brother, girl-to-boy), “hyung” (big brother, boy-to-boy), “noona” (big

sister, boy-to-girl), or “unnie” (big sister, girl-to-girl), even though similar vocatives exist in

Filipino (“kuya” for big brother and “ate” for big sister). A dialogue involving these vocatives

took place toward the end of the poetry workshop in which Jhon mispronounced “mantika,” as

the three friends began to talk about things other than the class activities:

Excerpt 32. “Oppa”

1 Kix: *KR (to Konan) Oppa…?

(to Konan) Big brother?

2 Konan: “Oppa?”

“Big brother?”

3 Kix: *FI Ilang taon ka na?

How old are you?

4 Konan: [Hyu:::ng. Why oppa?

5 Eufia: [Hyung. Oppa is older than you.

6 Kix: How old are you?

7 Konan: I’m more comfortable—

8 Kix: How old are you?

9 Konan: Fifteen.

10 Kix: *FI O di I’m fourteen.

Oh see I’m fourteen.

11 Konan: So why do you—why do you—why do you call me “oppa”? When you’re a man?

12 Kix: Oh right.

13 (Eufia chuckles)

14 Konan: Call me “oppa” when you’re a girl.

133

For most of the period, Kix and Eufia had spoken Filipino to include their Ilonggo-speaking

friend Konan. Now, however, the exchange starts with Kix calling Konan “oppa” (l. 1) in

Korean, but using the wrong term for his gender (in Filipino, it doesn’t matter what the younger

person’s gender is). Konan sees the error right away, and repeats the word incredulously (l. 2).

Noticing that he is being corrected, Kix thinks Konan doesn’t know which of them is older, and

asks Konan’s age in Filipino (l. 3). Konan provides the right word, “Hyung” (l. 4), which

overlaps with Eufia also saying “Hyung,” though she adds the wrong explanation, implying it

has to do with age (l. 5). Kix keeps asking how old Konan is (ll. 6-10) until Konan reveals why

the vocative is the wrong one (l. 11)—Kix is positioning himself as a girl calling an older boy

rather than a boy calling an older boy. While these students do not have the proficiency to

converse in Korean, terms learned from global K-pop culture are socially meaningful for them.

When I interviewed Kix about why he wanted to learn Korean, he explained, “When I was

young, but I never had the chance—I wanted to learn more languages rather than speaking in

English, Ilokano, Tagalog.” I asked him if he liked Korean music because it was popular, but he

revealed his reasons were more personal:

No, it’s actually (.) my fascination in—um so, Korean music for me, I like the beats and

stuff, and like, even though I cannot understand all of it, when I read the songs I notice

that there’s some words and lyrics that usually connects to what everyday life would

be. So like (1.0) I oftenly listen to those music with subtitles.

I then asked, “What kind of topics do you connect to your everyday life?” and he said, ““So (2.0)

mostly it’s love, um (.) troubles and—yeah. It’s like hardships and stuff in life.” However, he

said he couldn’t speak for his friends as to why they liked the music. Leung, Harris and Rampton

(1997) point out that youth construct their identities based on languages of affiliation as well as

134

languages of inheritance, and Kix does not solely want to be restricted to those languages

deemed “natural” for him to acquire. Thus, contemporary youth’s multilingual potential does not

always need to be associated with first/heritage language(s) plus English—students can have rich

discussions in two lingua francas (see Excerpt 32) about the grammar, vocabulary, pronunciation

or pragmatics of a language of affiliation that they use to stylize their speech.

While language crossing with Korean, an integral part of Kix and Eufia’s identities,

occurred regularly for them (e.g., greetings, goodbyes, thank-you’s), it could also occur for the

sole purpose of play among other students, as in Excerpt 33. This dialogue took place on the last

day of data collection (May 2) as I was walking around the classroom giving out Pocky sticks as

a token of appreciation. Pocky is a Japanese snack that consists of a long, narrow biscuit dipped

in chocolate, matcha, or some other flavor icing; Juan’s description of it as “American Stick-

O’s” led to Fetu, He, and Mike doing ludic translanguaging with different national languages.

Excerpt 33. “Am-eri-kan”

1 Juan: These are American Stick-O’s, guys.

2 He: Ah, we know that, mister. We know that it’s American Stick-Os.

3 Mike: American.

4 He: Am-eri-kan!

5 Fetu: (mock belligerence) Shut up I’m Am-eri-kan! You are Chinese, you are Philippine! You ain’t Am-eri-kan! I am the only Am-eri-kan heah.

6 (boys laugh)

7 He: No. That’s France. No Italy.

8 Fetu: Hey?

9 (boys laugh)

10 Fetu: pan tschwow (?)

135

11 Mike: Are you—

12 He: =Bonjour!

In line 5, Fetu plays the jingoist claiming to be a “real” American, with a stylized toughness that

seems to remind He of a French or Italian accent (l. 7), possibly indexing for him “Western”

jingoism more broadly. Fetu then attempts to say something in another language (l. 10), but it is

so bizzare I cannot tell what it is. Mike seems to begin to ask (l. 11), but is interrupted by He’s

“Bonjour!” (l. 12). At this point, I arrived at their table with Pocky, and the language-crossing

episode came to an end.

What do “pan tschwow” in line 10 and “Bonjour” in line 12 suggest? In contrast to use of

Korean (Excerpt 32) or Philippine languages that are not Filipino (Excerpt 29), I do not believe

the particular languages themselves matter in Excerpt 33—all are interpreted as foreign, and

therefore funny. The boys’ purpose is simply to share a chuckle. Such language crossing is thus

very fleeting and different from the language crossing with Jamaican Creole that Rampton

(1995) extensively documented, as in that case, peers regularly stylized their speech with a

language of affiliation, a case similar to that of Kix and his friends’ Korean. Then again, the

setting in my study (the English classroom) likely restricted the degree to which students

displayed non-English languages of affiliation, so these are not a key focus of the study.

4.6 Limits of Spontaneous Multilingual Practices (Laissez Faire Translanguaging)

Given the interactional data, it is clear that some kinds of mixed language activity in the two

English classrooms were far more common than others. For example, instances of

translanguaging-to-learn and code-switching were too many to count, whereas instances of self-

and other-stylization could be linked to specific, socially charged moments. One very common

practice was providing translations and clarifying misunderstandings during learning activities

(e.g., Excerpt 23, when Kix explains metaphor in Sherman Alexie’s Flight bilingually). Quite

136

frequently, students also used non-English languages to have private social conversations, which

were often ludic and culture-specific. Occasionally, they shared their heritage languages in

culturally oriented lessons such as poetry writing, which elicited words related to geography,

food, dress, etc. (Excerpt 31, “Mantɛka”). As well, students taught each other languages of

affiliation, as with the K-pop fans in Juan’s class (Excerpt 32).

On the other hand, there appear to be mixed language practices that a laissez faire

classroom language policy leaves largely untouched. These include (1) explicit discussion of

form-function mappings across English and other languages (Leonet, Cenoz, & Gorter, 2017),

and (2) development of critical language awareness (Hélot & Young, 2005).

A lack of explicit instruction in form-function mapping results in newcomer students

guessing, based on limited contextual information, what grammar information in English

corresponds more or less to what grammar information in L1. This could be seen during a

vocabulary exercise on analogies in ESL 9/10. The question students were looking at was

“health:illness::wealth:_______” (answer: “poverty”), which struck me as challenging because of

the low-frequency nominalizations compared to their adjective counterparts, e.g.,

“healthy:sick::rich: _______” (answer: “poor”). The literature on academic language also

supports the idea that such nominalizations are more challenging for L2 learners (Schleppegrell,

2004). This is not to say that students should not be exposed to nominalizations, but that they

seemed to have little awareness of parts of speech in the question whose answer was “poverty,”

focusing entirely on semantics,35 which led to guesswork based on sound associations:

35 A sematic focus posed no problem when the words in the analogy were concrete nouns; for the question “bat:baseball::racket:_______,” Cookie asked, “Bat like (.) baseball bat or the bat like (.) flying at nighttime?”, to which Rayna answered, “Racket—it looks like this,” and drew the object on the board. Cookie and Skusta then both said “badminton.”

137

Excerpt 34. Verbal Analogies

1 Rayna: What would be an antonym of wealth?

2 Skusta: Health (.) uh wealth (.) uh wet.

3 Rayna: What does wealth mean?

4 Cookie: I don’t know miss. Wealth—I don’t know (.) wealth.

5 Skusta: Healthy like that?

6 Rayna: It’s not healthy.

7 Male student:

…Height is you’re tall.

8 Cookie: Like the—the water is wet.

9 Kok: Why is ‘water is wet’?

10 Rayna: >So wealth means you have a lot of money.<

The necessary scaffolding to help students answer the question in Excerpt 34 would be difficult,

if not impossible, to enact without cross-lingual illustrations. First, learners need to understand

the constructs of nouns, verbs, and adjectives to know what parts of speech they are dealing with.

In Excerpt 34, ESL 9/10 students, who had no idea of the meaning of “wealth,” grasped at any

association—whether rhyme (“health” vs “wealth”; l. 5), alliteration (“health” and “height” both

begin with H; l. 7) and pronunciation (“wealth” sounds like “wet” with a Filipino accent; l. 8).

After several questions, this became a source of ludic translanguaging rather than metalinguistic

reflection—the boys started to guess and the activity was no longer serious. For example, when

Rayna said, “Car goes on road and ship goes on—”, multiple students shouted, “Earth!” “Ship!”

“Spaceship!” “Beach!” “Kalawakan!” [outer space] and “Water!” Another time, when she said,

“This is what I want it to look like,” Cookie stammered in Filipino-accented English, “It lok like

138

(.) it lok like (.) it lok like—” and Flow-G interrupted, “Itlog!” (egg).36 The focus thus shifted

from a language lesson to a performance of academic machismo among the Filipino boys—

regarding who could shout his answer the loudest, guess the correct answer first, or pun in a

funny way—and there were lost opportunities for the class to build metacognition about

grammar by drawing on translation into all the students’ languages.

Moreover, while (trans)languaging and code-switching practices are both important for

learning, students might have been more empathetic towards each other, particularly towards

singletons or classmates with lower English proficiencies, if they had more knowledge of

language acquisition gained through explanations that drew on multiple languages. For example,

Juan commented on the need to have discussions about where accents come from, why Filipinos

switch /f/ and /p/, and why some L2 speakers mix up gender pronouns. In addition, Skusta and

Kok’s claim that “Visayans speak rough” (see Section 3.6.4), an idea that they did not likely

come up with themselves, needs to be unpacked—why do people believe that, and what is its

truth value? Classroom participants benefit from knowledge of second language acquisition from

a variety of theoretical perspectives, not the least because it might help them critique

unreasonable standards (e.g., that of the monolingual native speaker, or the dubious construct of

native-speakerness), set more meaningful goals for speed of language acquisition, and be more

compassionate towards each other. For example, Linguistics 101 courses teach that all the

world’s languages and dialects are grammatically systematic and equally complex, and the

statement on Students’ Right to Their Own Languages by the College of Composition and

36 Similar behavior among “loud boys” was also found by Rampton (2006) in a study of a mostly English-speaking class of 9th graders from a working-class background. Rampton found that boys were “hyper engaged”—jousting as to who could shout an answer first. In that study, as in Excerpt 34, a lot of the boys’ talk focused on the ludic, rather than the referential, meaning of what was said, thereby deflecting the cognitive scaffolding teachers were working towards.

139

Communication (CCCC, 1974) recognizes this fact. Additionally, usage-based theories of

language acquisition challenge the way people conflate language proficiency with linguistic

purity; there is a validity problem and an ethical problem with comparing bi/multilingual

speakers of a language with monolingual L1 speakers (Ortega, 2014). In class discussions about

additional language learning, there can be ample multilingual, multidialectical, and multimodal

translanguaging (Li, 2017) to facilitate understanding.

It is worth considering how much the teachers have been prepared for any of these types

of instructional practices. Juan’s comments suggest that he is aware of the problematic nature of

the students’ teasing each other about accents, and he and Kaori both led critical discussions

about linguicism, or language discrimination (e.g., Excerpt 41). Moreover, their interviews

indicated that they, as multilinguals themselves, valued linguistic diversity and inclusion.

However, most education programs do not require students to take any linguistics courses,

especially if they are not specializing in multilingual education, nor do education programs deal

with the issue of classroom language policy at length, other than in courses on language and

education. At the same time, teacher trainees are generally encouraged to value their students’

cultures and funds of knowledge (González et al., 2005), which may lead to much laissez faire

translanguaging rather than deliberate instruction on cross-linguistic comparisons and/or critical

language awareness education in content area classrooms.

Finally, it is telling that many mixed language practices in both English 9 and ESL

9/10—regardless of type—tended to be practiced mostly by the linguistic majority, reflecting

their language repertoires, even when Rayna, Kaori, and Juan encouraged everyone to use their

whole language repertoires to navigate course content. It is also telling that the most vocal

students in each class were from the linguistic majority, Ilokano speakers in English 9 or Filipino

140

speakers in ESL 9/10, except for He and Fetu, whose advanced English allowed them to hold

their own. Thus, a laissez faire classroom language policy introduces two new kinds of

hegemonies apart from English hegemony—that of the majority non-English language and that

of the most bi/multilingually proficient students. How these hegemonies unfolded in each class

will be the focus of the next chapter.

141

CHAPTER 5

MAJORITY, MINORITY, SINGLETONS: THE CHALLENGES OF

ETHNOCENTRISM

In this chapter, I discuss linguistic ethnocentrism as it relates to translanguaging in the two

classrooms where use of non-English languages was permitted among a Filipino- or Ilokano-

speaking majority, with some singletons and (in the case of Juan’s class) a Chuukese-speaking

minority. Ethnocentrism is important to address on studies about translanguaging because those

who promote this practice for the sake of educational effectiveness and/or social equity may aim

principally to meet the needs of the majority language group, unintentionally marginalizing

others. In this chapter, I aim to illustrate that bringing students’ linguistic and cultural funds of

knowledge into the class does not in itself lead to more linguistic and cultural equity, as

ethnocentrism and challenges to ethnocentrism develop in interaction. Moreover, the kind of

ethnocentrism teachers need to be most wary of in a class or school with no White Anglo

students, or in a class with no native English speakers, may not be that of White Anglo L1

English monolinguals—but that of the majority ethnolinguistic group reproducing the same

kinds of discrimination among themselves, and between them and that context’s minority

students, which the White Anglo L1 English mainstream uses to distinguish itself.

Examining laissez faire translanguaging in both classes, I found a tendency for the

majority language group to exercise their home language most, thus translanguaging and code-

switching the most, in a variety of situations: when students were doing activities reflecting the

“cultural mainstream” (see definition below), when they were doing activities that invited them

to share their own cultures, and even when teachers invited students to explore cultures that were

under-represented in the curriculum and unfamiliar to most or all students in the class. In other

142

words, no matter how foregrounded cultural topics were in the activity or how (un)familiar these

topics were to the class as a group, linguistic ethnocentrism could impact language practices.

After presenting the data to support these claims, I conclude the chapter with (1) a discussion of

how the classroom minority languages were used in contrast to the majority languages in these

classes, and (2) an analysis of the factors that appeared to exacerbate or temper the hegemony of

the majority language speakers.

5.1 Ethnocentrism in Activities Reflecting the Cultural Mainstream

In this study, I define “cultural mainstream” as White Anglo U.S. cultural and linguistic

knowledge that could be unfamiliar to Hawai‘i students or other minoritized groups in the U.S.

(e.g., Menken, 2008; Sato, 1989), or cultural topics that seem universal but present relative

affluence as normal in society (e.g., owning a smartphone). When the cultural content was

mainstream, I found that the majority linguistic group’s greater numbers seemed to lead to them

participate more actively in whole-class discussions where the norm was to speak English. This

could be seen during a whole class discussion in ESL 9/10 when students were debating the pros

and cons of cellphones to practice argumentation. During this discussion, Rayna, the student

teacher, encouraged students to speak up by keeping a tally on the board of how often each

student made a contribution. This created an atmosphere of competition during which the

Filipino boys became increasingly vocal, overriding each other and their classmates. In Excerpt

35 below, Kaiea, who was from the Marshall Islands, was interrupted while talking about the

need for cellphones in an emergency.

Excerpt 35. “Against Your Answers”

1 Kaiea: We cannot do anything. Like, if you’re alone and— (voice drowned out by boys’ clamor; I hear one boy say, “You can’t call your parents in the Philippines!”)

143

2 Rayna: (interrupting the boys) Kaiea, can you (.) can you say the—this sentence? (indicates sentence frame on the board) And say what you said again?

3 Aaron: Plus one miss!

4 Rayna: Guys!

5 Flow-G: (petulantly) …pansin.

…notice [us].

6 Kaiea: …you’re alone you cannot do anything. So (.) you can call your friend, or (XXX).

7 Boy: Eee!

8 Aaron: Plus one miss!

9

Flow-G: (shouting) Disagree tayo! Miss! Disagree. (a male classmate starts to read his answer) Contra sa mga sagot n’yo.

(shouting) Let’s disagree. Miss! Disagree. (a male classmate starts to read his answer) Against your answers.

Rayna encouraged students to speak languages other than English in class if they needed to, but

in this case, as on many other occasions, only Filipino students did so. In Excerpt 35 in

particular, when Rayna tries to draw the class’ attention to target language in the form of

sentence frames for argumentation (l. 2), which she has written on the board, and maintain space

for Kaiea to finish giving her answer, Flow-G complains to the other boys in Filipino that Rayna

is not paying attention to them (l. 5)—when in fact, they should be paying attention to the

sentence frames and to Kaiea. Aaron, another Filipino boy, keeps urging Rayna to give the

people who are interrupting Kaiea points (ll. 3, 8), given the tally of who has spoken up. As

Kaiea continues, Flow-G urges the group to disagree (l. 9), even though Kaiea’s answer is by

then too quiet to hear clearly (l. 6); he says, “against your answers” (l. 9) in Filipino, rallying the

loud Filipino boys to “win” over each answer that is not given by one of them, regardless of what

their actual opinions are.

144

While allowing use of home languages destabilized the hegemony of English in this

situation, another hegemony arose along ethnic and gender lines, as the loud Filipino boys

jumped at the chance to speak while linguistic minority students, quieter Filipino boys, and

Filipino girls remained quiet. (Quietness did not mean inattention; e.g., I often observed Summer

taking notes and using an electronic dictionary.) Rayna ceded some authority by eschewing an

English-only policy, but the power relations that emerged in its place reflected male chauvinism,

place-based ethnic dominance (as the class, school, and neighborhood were predominantly

Filipino), and seniority, as the boys seemed to lack respect for a female student teacher who was

not Filipino and spoke English and Korean rather than Philippine languages.

Excerpt 35 suggests that teachers must navigate the clash of linguistic hegemonies on

different scales, to make as equitable as possible the classroom’s multilingual communicative

practices. During moments of better classroom management, however, such ethnocentrism could

still go underground, presenting itself in small group discussions rather than in the majority

language group dominating class discussions. This could be seen during a class that Kaori taught

with Rayna assisting (Excerpt 36). In this excerpt, as in others, I do not present a transcript but

describe events in chronological order by combining notes I took during the observation and

after listening to the audio recording. The group activity students were working on was to

construct the timeline of Mildred D. Taylor’s short story “The Gold Cadillac” on a worksheet, as

part of a unit on the Civil Rights Movement.

Excerpt 36. “Hi Summer”

21:30 The class counts off in groups of three or four. Ricky, Skusta, and Juliana (Filipino) and Summer (Chinese) are assigned to work together. As Ricky sits down next to Summer, he puts his face close to hers and says, “Hello.” Summer, startled, replies, “Who are you?” The Filipino kids chuckle and repeat “Who are you?” to each other.

22:10 Skusta says “Hi Julia↑na↓” in a seductive voice, followed by “Hi Sum↑mer↓” in the same tone. Summer repeats, “Who are you?” and laughs uncomfortably.

145

23:00 The second time Skusta says “Hi Summer” creepily,37 she again repeats, “Who are you?”

23:15 Skusta says “Zaoshang hao” in the same creepy voice, and Juliana giggles.

23:30 Skusta says, “Hi Sum↑mer↓. (2.0) Zaoshang↑ hao↓. (2.0) Where you↑ from↓?” in the same creepy voice. Juliana giggles again.

23:40 Ricky: (to Summer) “Will you be my Valentine’s date?” (Filipino kids laugh) Skusta: “Summer, say yes!”

24:00 Skusta: “Summer, do you have a date on Valentine’s Day?” Instead of answering, Summer sighs loudly. One of the boys imitates Summer’s loud sigh. Juliana giggles.

24:40 Ricky: “Zaoshang↑ hao↓.”

25:10 Skusta: (creepy voice) “Hi Sum↑mer↓. Hi Juli↑ana↓. Do you know what to do Sum↑mer↓?” Anna: “What are you doing? That’s creepy.” Juliana: “Tinatakot mo si Summer.” [You’re scaring Summer.]

25:30 Skusta: “Meron ka na ba pagka-date Sum↑mer↓? (1.5) Si Ricky wala.” [Do you have a date Summer? (1.5) Ricky doesn’t.] (Skusta asks the question in Filipino; thus, it’s really for Juliana and Ricky.) Juliana repeats: “Tinatakot mo si Summer.” [You’re scaring Summer.]

25:45 Skusta: “Paano ba mag basa hindi ako marunong mag basa e.” [How do you read I don’t know how to read.] (to Summer) “Can I see the author?” Summer: “No.”

26:00 Skusta: “Sum↑mer↓.” Juliana: “Dinadamotan.” [Being stingy.] (i.e., Summer will not let them copy her work)

26:20 Skusta: “Hi Sum↑me:::r↓.” (Juliana giggles) Skusta: “Summer, can I hold your hand?” Summer: “No.” Skusta: “Why?” (Ricky laughs) Skusta: “Do you have a boyfriend?” Summer: “No.” Skusta: “Why?” Ricky: “=’Cuz Skusta likes you.” Skusta: “Because Ricky like you.” Ricky: “Yeah I like you more.” Skusta: “You like Ricky?” Summer: “=No.”

27:20 Skusta: “Hi Sum↑mer↓. Sum↓mer?↑” Rayna: (coming by) “She’s translating. If you need to translate anything you can use your cellphone.” Skusta: “Hi Sum↑mer↓.” Filipino kids laugh. Rayna: “That was already five minutes. You guys didn’t finish any box.”

28:50 Skusta: “Sum↓me::r.↑” Ricky: “Love me?” Summer: “No.” Skusta: “Summer, do you love me?” Summer: “No.” Juliana giggles.

29:20 Rayna comes again, sees little progress, and asks, “What are two events that happened in Part One?” Skusta: “Okay.” Rayna: “What are they?” Skusta: (reading incoherently) “To in wer::e eben [events] dat kana has my fader’s [father] soo (?) crow (?).” (Juliana laughs at Skusta’s answer) Rayna: (gently) “What? Was that your answer?” Skusta: “You are beautiful miss.” Rayna: “What was your answer?” Skusta: “I’m reading miss.”

37 Skusta says “Hi Summer” in this voice no less than 20 times in 23 minutes. While it originally sounded seductive (e.g., 22:10), after plenty of repetition it lost this edge.

146

30:35 Skusta: “Sum↓me::r.↑ Sum↑mer↓.” (Juliana giggles) Skusta: “Summer you are beautiful Summer.” (Ricky sings the words “beautiful girl” and Skusta laughs) Juliana: “Beauty pa niya si Summer. O lumalayo na o.” [He even finds Summer beautiful. Oh she’s moving away.]

Skusta: “Summer? You are beautiful or not?” Juliana: “Mm. Lumalayo na o.” [Mm. She’s moving away.]

31:20 Ricky: “Hoy. Sino sila sa mga characters?” [Hey. Who are the characters?] Skusta: “Si… [They’re…] (7.0) Hi Summer! (2.0) Zaoshang hao. (8.0) Why are you mad?” Juliana: “Pinagtritripan mo kase.” [’Cuz you’re harassing her.] (lowers voice) “Pag mag sumbong yon sa—” [If she tells on you to—] Skusta: “Tatay niya. Na Inchik.” [To her father. The Chink.]

32:35 Rayna arrives to check their work. Rayna: “I cannot even understand what you wrote. (1.0) What did you write?” Skusta: (reading) “Insan dardi are we reach.” (Juliana snickers) Rayna: “No, that’s not an event.” Skusta: “Oh event OK—” Rayna: “Yeah—” Skusta: “Yeah event—” Rayna: “What did they do?” Skusta: “OK. (2.0) Hi Summer.”

35:10 Skusta: “What’s the answer, Summer?” Summer: “No, I don’t know.” Skusta: “How come? You said (.) you have.” Summer: “I don’t know. (chuckles)” Skusta: “What the (.) place? Oh. (to Juliana) Galit na yata si Summer.” [Summer’s maybe angry already.]

36:10 Skusta: “Let’s see Summer. You said you have.”

39:30 Juliana: “Ano number two? Tinakpan niya?” [What’s number two? Did she cover it up?] Skusta: “Hindi pa.” [Not yet.]

41:40 Skusta: “Ehh. Tingnan mo Google ito.” [Ehh. Look it up on Google.] Juliana: “Hoy huwag.” [Hey don’t.]

42:00 Rayna comes by and reminds them they have 10 more minutes in the activity.

43:40 Anna: “Binasa n’yo ba yung storia?” [Did you read the story?] Skusta: “Opo miss. [Yes miss.] But a long time ago miss.”

During this small group activity, the three Filipino students teased Summer—to the point of it

sounding like harassment—in at least three languages, including her own, imitating the rise and

fall of its tones (e.g., 23:30). Their mock courtship of her (similar to Eufia and Rizze’s

hypothetical romance with He) included comments in Filipino that she could not understand,

though she recognized her name and knew she was being talked about. Worse still, Summer’s

groupmates tried to copy her answers, asking each other for them instead of asking Summer

herself, and orchestrating their copying in Filipino.

147

Even though there is bilingual communication here, there is no translanguaging-to-learn.

What can instead be heard is code-switching to organize teasing and copying. Although the

Filipino students excluded Summer, none of them seemed to be in a safe space either: Skusta

teased Juliana in the same voice that he used on Summer, Juliana giggled whenever Skusta

revealed his reading challenges, and no one appeared confident enough to venture an answer for

the others to check.

This unsettling excerpt suggests a number of research directions that future studies might

take, such as the question of how mixed language practices relate to gender relations, and the

connection between L1/HL use and classroom management. Additionally, such studies might

investigate the extent to which teachers are aware of the classroom underlife in languages they

don’t understand. Within the scope of this study, Excerpt 36, like Excerpt 35, shows Filipino

students’ ethnocentric language dominance under a laissez faire classroom language policy.

Translanguaging-to-learn does not appear to be happening much in these excerpts, perhaps partly

because ethnocentric language practices inhibit such discussion—the more the majority language

is used, the less the minority students speak, and the less students translanguage-to-learn using

the class’ shared language as one resource for doing so. Moreover, a laissez faire classroom

language policy may not lead to translanguaging-to-learn even for the majority linguistic group,

even if it leads to more use of the majority non-English language, as self-confidence and trust are

still factors affecting whether students share their thoughts aloud in any language(s).

Another case of linguistic ethnocentrism arose during a small group discussion in Juan’s

class, with the group consisting of three Ilokano students (Eufia, Rizze, and Kix) and the class’

single Samoan student, Fetu. However, in this case, Fetu countered the imminent construction of

Ilokano hegemony, and found an ally in Eufia. During the activity, students were analyzing

148

literary devices in the poem “Identity” (1973) by Julio Noboa Polanco, starting: “Let them be as

flowers, / always watered, fed, guarded, admired, / but harnessed to a pot of dirt. / I’d rather be a

tall, ugly weed, / clinging on cliffs, like an eagle / wind-wavering above high, jagged rocks.”

Following a worksheet, they were asked to identify the poem’s theme and then give evidence of

how Polanco expressed this theme using literary devices such as imagery (l. 1), diction (l. 20),

and repetition (ll. 37–38).

Excerpt 37. “Polang Polang”

1 Eufia: Polanco uses (.) bold and daring imagery—why is it ‘bold and daring’ connote?

2 Kix: ’Cuz (.) when you say ‘I’d rather be (.) a tall, ugly weed clinging on cliffs like an eagle’ (1.0) would you cling on cliffs?38

3 (3.0 seconds’ pause)

4 Fetu: Yes.

5 Kix: (laughs) Let me rephrase the question. J If you were a human, would you go on cliffs?

6 Rizze: No.

7 Fetu: [Unless—

8 Kix: Would you hang in a cliff? J

9 Rizze: Yeah you (.) you’re stupid.

10 Eufia: If you want to be independen—

11 Kix: Oh my ga::wd. Litakenkan ne.

Oh my ga::wd. I’m gonna smack you.

12 Fetu: (over others talking at the same time) Wait, what’s the question?

13 Kix: (XX) eta Polanco?

(XX) this Polanco?

38 By asking this question, Kix is trying to explain that ‘connote’ involves figurative rather than literal meaning, i.e., that Polanco does not literally want to cling on a cliff, even though he writes that he’d rather be a weed on a cliff than a flower in a pot.

149

14

15

Fetu: (mock Ilokano, echoing Kix’s previous line) Polang polang.

(Eufia giggles)

16 Kix: Fetu, kadakelak ta subsub mo.

Fetu, I’m gonna enlarge your snout. (i.e., gonna punch you)

17 Fetu: (mock Ilokano, echoing Kix’s previous line) Susubsub.

18 Kix: Kadakelak ta subsub mo.

I’m gonna enlarge your snout.

19 Fetu: Susubsub.

20 Kix: We still have to (.) specify this—the connotive use of ‘rather be’ throughout the poem illustrates braveness, showing that—

21 Eufia: [Showing that—

22 Rizze: [You’re not stupid enough to—

23

24

Kix: Serioso kayo man yurdz!

C’mon guys let’s be serious this time!

Fetu, stop laughing.

25 Eufia: Fetu Fetu Fetu.

26 Fetu: The poem illustrate braveness to show (.) that people commit suicide when they’re tired of receiving shit.

27 Kix: See? You’re not even taking it seriously.

28 Eufia: Can you put this in a deeper meaning Fetu? To show that—

29 Rizze: To show that.

30 Fetu: Where?

31

32

Eufia: To show that (.) ˚show that.˚

(Fetu doesn’t respond right away; Kix reads sentences to himself.)

33 Fetu: That may be correct, but it doesn’t say here that he’s alone. (1.0) Hey can you read this?

34 Eufia: Yeah but—wait, can I—

35 Fetu: Is he alone, what do you think?

150

36 Kix: He’s not alone.

(10 minutes later…)

37 Kix: There’s no repetition. (2.0) He! Is there repetition?

38 He: (at another table) Yees. Ugly weed.

39 Kix: No like (.) sentence for repetition. (clears throat) Which one is it? No, like here. (sound of ruffling paper) What’s juxtaposition again? When you’re comparing two things and like >you’re like looking ˚at it in a different way…˚<

40 Fetu: Oh (.) so repetition is different from motif then? What is repetition?

41 Kix: So repetition is the repetition of words throughout the poem (.) or story. And motif is (.) let’s say something happened in the first chapter, [and that thing—

42

Eufia: [Oh deta Kix!

Oh there Kix!

43 Rizze: Kix. Deta.

Kix. There.

At the start of the dialogue, Eufia asks: “…why is it ‘bold and daring’ connote?”, i.e., what does

“connote” mean? An adept peer tutor, Kix begins to scaffold her understanding through a series

of questions. By asking “Would you hang on cliffs?” (l. 2) he attempts to lead his groupmates to

see that “connote” means the figurative rather than the literal meaning. This backfires because

they take the question literally; after three seconds, Fetu ventures, “Yes” (l. 4). Kix laughs,

repeating the question twice in an amused voice (ll. 5, 8). This still does not lead to

understanding of the meaning of “connote,” but elicits more personal reactions to cliff-scaling:

“you’re stupid” (Rizze, l. 9); “you want to be independent” (Eufia, l. 10). Kix becomes

exasperated (l. 11), Fetu asks him to repeat the question (l. 12), and Kix switches into Ilokano (l.

13) presumably because—and this is contextual information—he has had enough of Fetu goofing

off since the beginning of class. Fetu counters this by echoing the last two syllables of what Kix

151

said (l. 14), causing Eufia to laugh (l. 15). In Ilokano, Kix talks about the desire to punch Fetu (l.

16, 18), but Fetu, despite not knowing what he is saying, continues to repeat the last few

syllables of what Kix said (l. 17, 19). Kix then switches back to English to continue the

discussion about connotation (l. 20).

Fetu’s uptake of what little Ilokano he can follow is a message that if Kix uses Ilokano,

Fetu will speak mock Ilokano. This seems to result in Kix giving up on taking the conversation

away from Fetu through Ilokano. The last thing he says to the girls in that language is, “Let’s be

serious this time” (l. 23), then code-switches to tell Fetu in English, “Fetu, stop laughing” (l. 24).

Eventually, Fetu ends up taking the activity seriously, but only because of Eufia’s positioning

him as a contributor. She says “Fetu Fetu Fetu” (l. 25) to pull him back into the fold, and even

when he gives a nonsense answer that exasperates Kix (l. 26),39 she adds, “Can you put this in a

deeper meaning Fetu?” (l. 28). This results in the pause at line 32, which shows Fetu is thinking

about the poem’s theme for the first time, and shortly thereafter he says to Eufia: “…it doesn’t

say here that he’s alone. (1.0) Hey can you read this?” (l. 33) and “Is he alone, what do you

think?” (l. 35). The ensuing talk between Fetu and Eufia, addressed only to one another, and

Rizze’s remaining quiet, forces Kix to language only to himself for ten minutes (l. 39), until he is

interrupted by Fetu asking him: “So repetition is different from motif then?” (l. 40). Kix

proceeds to describe the difference in a helpful tone (l. 41), until his explanation is interrupted by

Eufia and then Rizze exclaiming in Ilokano that they’ve found the quote he’s been searching for

(ll. 42, 43). From then on, the group worked collaboratively.

39 Alternatively, Fetu’s answer “The poem illustrate braveness to show (.) that people commit suicide when they’re tired of receiving shit” (l. 26) can be read not as nonsense, but as a hint that the Ilokano students should stop “giving him shit” by constantly speaking a language he can’t understand. It is also possible that Fetu took the very concept of translanguaging in English class (encouraged by Juan and me) as academic bullshit, given his questionnaire responses.

152

Since students can use their linguistic resources for a variety of purposes, it is not enough

to promote any language policy, including a bi/multilingual one, without seeing how people

deploy language. The choices students make in unfolding interaction, such as Kix’s decision to

switch to Ilokano (l. 13), Fetu’s decision to imitate him (ll. 17, 19), and Eufia’s decision to invite

Fetu to make a real contribution (l. 28) build up or take down the class’ linguistic hegemonies—

line by line, moment by moment. It is these moves by students in both the linguistic majority and

the linguistic minority that make space for minority students like Fetu to share their thought

processes (e.g., l. 28) or to be included in social relations (for example, Eufia laughs good

naturedly in line 15 at Fetu’s rendition of “Ilokano”).

5.2 Ethnocentrism in Activities Inviting Students to Talk About Their Cultures

Just as allowing students to draw on languages other than English to understand mainstream

content can lead to the majority linguistic group doing so the most, inviting students to bring

their cultural funds of knowledge into curricular discussions highlights which group is in the

majority. Interestingly, when sharing their cultural funds of knowledge, students in both classes

elected to represent their national cultures in front of the class rather than regional or

transnational ones, which may reflect a “culture=nation” discourse gained through schooling

(Friedman, 2010). This was also the orientation taken up by their teachers and by a visiting poet,

reflecting the degree to which the wider society tends to focus on national categories over other

kinds of cultural representations.

To illustrate, I will focus on interactions during a poetry workshop by local poet Celeste

Gallo, held on March 7, with the theme “Writing, Place, and Identity.” In Period 1, the workshop

was attended by two classes, including Juan’s Period 1 English 9 class. In Period 2, the

workshop was attended by Kaori’s ESL 9/10 class and that of another ESL teacher. At the start

153

of both periods, Gallo introduced herself as an alumna of the school, a PhD student in English at

the University of Hawai‘i with a Creative Writing concentration, and a generation 1.5 Filipino

immigrant who came in the 1960s to join her grandfather. When she said, “I went off to uni on

the day Elvis died in ’77,” I estimated she was about 60 years old.

Gallo first showed students a Youtube clip of Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner, a Marshallese poet,

performing the poem “Tell Them,” about climate change in the Marshall Islands forcing mass

emigration. As the poem ended with “…most importantly tell them / we don’t want to leave /

we’ve never wanted to leave / and that we / are nothing without our islands,” Gallo said, “What

is she doing? She’s looking at memory. She’s looking at land. She’s looking at culture. She’s

also looking at (.) an event. … She wants people to know stuff about her.” Gallo then talked

about the U.S. atomic bombing of the Bikini Atoll, how the fish were blown out of the water and

landed dead on the beach, which the amazed people ate, poisoning themselves with radiation.

She explained that the word “bikini” came from there, and that “climate change, whether you

believe it or not… made the oceans rise, so essentially their islands are being covered.”

Next, students collaborated in small groups to write “tell them” lines of poetry on cue

cards, of things they wanted to share about their own lives. Initially, they were supposed to work

in pairs or threes with whoever was sitting next to them, and Eufia was starting to converse with

her neighbor, a Chinese girl from another class, about a style of pottery that Eufia’s town was

renowned for, showing the girl a picture on her phone and saying, “We make that.” However,

Kix turned to Juan and asked permission to work with Eufia, to which Juan replied, “OK. If you

want to sit with a person from the same culture…” This idea seemed to change Eufia’s

orientation, as she asked the girl: “You want to switch?” The girl switched with Kix so that Kix,

154

Eufia, and their friend Konan all sat in a row. From then on, I heard no more exchanges between

Eufia and the girl.

Although working with partners from the same country does not necessarily facilitate

writing a “Tell Them” poem any more than working with people from other countries, Juan

allowed Kix and his friends to form what he called a same-culture group. Interestingly, once Kix,

Eufia, and Konan were together, they used Filipino, their lingua franca, to discuss cultural

differences. As two Ilokano L1 speakers and an Ilonggo L1 speaker, they began to talk in

Filipino about different creatures from Philippine mythology, doing successive knowledge

checks to compare mythological creatures in the regions of Ilocos and Negros.

Excerpt 38. Myths

1 Konan: Alam mo yung Kanlaon?

Do you know Kanlaon?

2 Kix: Yung vulcan?

The volcano?

3 Konan: Mm-mm. Sa Negros kasi yon e.

Mm-mm. That’s in Negros see.

4 Kix: (to Juan) Mister, what’s myth in Ilocos?

5 Eufia: Aswang.

Vampire.

6 Kix: Sirena.

Mermaid.

7 Eufia: Sirena. Balena.

Mermaid. Whale.

8 Konan: Meron kayo?

Do you have?

155

9 Kix: Momo. [Marami samin.

Ghosts. [We have a lot.

10 Eufia: [Aswang. Manananggal.

Vampire. Fetus-sucker.

11 Konan: Yon pa rin alam ko.

That’s still all I know.

12 Eufia: Vampire. Asong (.) tao. Taong aso.

Vampire. Dog (.) person. Person dog. (i.e., werewolf)

Although the Philippines is one country in the Western imagination, the Filipino word lahi,

translated as “race,” identifies different Philippine ethnicities by their languages and myths. To

make matters more interesting, Gallo, speaking over the class, called out at one point in the

activity: “Tell them my culture is as wide as the ocean from (.) China down to (.) India. ’Cause in

the south [of the Philippines], um (.) Indians came and there are Muslims…” Following the

pattern of using nationhood to construct culture, she identified the Philippines before Spanish

contact as having influences from other cultures also thought of as nation states, even though

these cultures were not conceived in this way when Magellan landed on the islands in 1521:

India did not come into nationhood until the 1940s, whereas the tinikling dances in Southern

Philippines featuring scenes from the Bhagavad Gita predate Magellan. When contemporary

people talk about culture, they may impose labels of nationhood onto cultural practices that

transcend(ed) national borders—not only in the present but hundreds of years ago.

At the start of period 3, after Gallo introduced herself to Kaori’s students, she shared with

them two “Where I’m From” (WIF) poems, adapting the form of poetry to this group’s lower

English proficiencies. She then passed out a two-sided worksheet with blanks to help students do

WIF poems of their own, e.g., “I am from ____ (specific ordinary item), / From ____ (product

name) and ____ (product name).” Over the period, she drew on the board a coconut tree and

156

wrote down terms based on students’ contributions. Of the 14 terms generated between her and

the class during the course of the activity, seven seemed to be in English (“rubber slippers,”

“baseball caps,” “coconut tree,” “red bricks,” “tile,” “concrete houses,” “Windex”), six seemed

to be in Filipino (“banig,” “kumot,” “baria,” “kamias,” “tabungao,” “marrungay plants outside

backyard”), and one seemed to be in Hawaiian (“lauhala mats”), even though there were also

Vietnamese-, Mandarin-, and Marshallese-speaking students present.

While the Filipino boys were the most active participants, as always, and seemed to enjoy

the workshop, granting Gallo resounding applause at the end, her discussions with them about

where they were from highlighted her transnational identity in contrast to their solidly Filipino

ones. This was shown when she read her own WIF poem: “I’m from Ilocos Norte and crowded,

crazy Manila. From XXX street and bad reputation [Honolulu neighborhood], where even the

fried fish has hard eyeballs.” After reading this poem, she checked students’ comprehension, and

the Filipino boys’ responses to her questions indicated less than full understanding of the places

she had mentioned.40

Excerpt 39. Natives and transnationals

1 Gallo: Place (.) is (.) [Honolulu neighborhood].

2 Cookie: [Ilocos Norte.

3 Gallo: [XXX—where else?

4 Cookie: (to self) °Philippines.°

5 Boy: Ilocos Norte!

6 Cookie: (to self) °Ilocos Norte.°

7 Boy: Manila.

40 It is possible that the longer period of Filipino immigration in the neighborhood (i.e., since the plantation era) explains Gallo’s transnational identity, in contrast to the national identities of the Filipino students in ESL 9/10, many of whom had just recently arrived in Hawai‘i.

157

8 Gallo: Manila—

9 Boy: Zamboanga!

10

Gallo: Where’s Zamboanga Theater? (2.0) It’s gone already. When you guys—there used to be this beautiful theater... Zamboanga Theater. So that’s culture, place—what about identity? (1.0) Well there’s parents…

When Gallo read, “I’m from Ilocos and crowded, crazy Manila. From XXX Street and bad

reputation [Honolulu neighborhood], where even the fried fish has hard eyeballs,” the students

may have missed the subtle geographical shift to Hawai‘i; thus, when she asked them to repeat

where she was from, they only mentioned places in the Philippines, despite Gallo cueing them

with the street name (l. 3) and her statement about experiencing the bad reputation of her

neighborhood. Furthermore, when Gallo mentioned “Zamboanga Theater” in another part of her

poem, a student thought she meant Zamboanga in Mindanao (l. 9), in the south of the

Philippines. In an attempt to correct the misconception, Gallo asked, “Where’s Zamboanga

Theater?” before explaining it was a local landmark in Honolulu (l. 10).

The boys’ lack of uptake of the concept of transnational identity continued in the next

poem she shared with them, a six-line Hawai‘i Creole English poem called “Wot Village You

From?” by Lee Tonouchi: “Grandma axes my friends / wit Okinawan last names. / I dunno why,

/ cuz she always gets disappointed / when dey tell / Pālolo.” After reading this, she said:

What’s wrong with this question? Why is the grandma disappointed? (1.0) ’Cause she

wants to know like wh::ere, where in Okinawa you from? You ever, um (.) meet another

person of your ethnicity and they say, ‘Oh where you from?’ Ilocos. Uh, you know.

Rizal. … So the grandmother is disappointed because the person is not from Okinawa,

saying an Okinawan place. Saying, ‘Oh, Pālolo.’41

41 A valley, stream and neighborhood in Honolulu.

158

Gallo waited for students to relate, but they were silent, except for Kok and Cookie, who

repeated “Okinawa” in curious voices. Letting it pass, Gallo said: “So, let’s take a look at (.)

writing your own poem.”

It is possible that national ethnocentrism was strong in these discussions because the

topic of transnationalism came relatively late in the workshop, with the poems by Gallo and

Tonouchi. In contrast, at the start of the workshop, Gallo introduced herself as Filipino-American

and each student introduced themselves as [name] from [country] in most cases, perhaps setting

the main framework for cultural presentations throughout the period. Alternatively, the focus on

culture as national culture could reflect discourses in the school that highlight a rainbow of

national cultures rather than transnationalism, as seen in the previous year’s May Day assembly

(Chapter 1) and the list of translations of “Welcome” into different languages outside the ELL

counseling center (Chapter 3).

Next, I draw attention to ethnocentrism even when teachers attempted to teach about

cultures under-represented in the curriculum and in the class, or tried to create a discourse urging

students to unite as bi/multilinguals.

5.3 Ethnocentrism in Activities Intended to Foster New Cultural Awareness

In Kaori’s class, Filipino students could be the most outspoken even when the discussion was

about their classmates’ cultures.42 This was apparent during a video on the Hawaiian voyaging

canoe Hōkūleʻa, which had recently returned to Honolulu after a three-year voyage around the

globe.

42 See similar findings in Duff (2002), an ethnography that found White students spoke more readily about Chinese culture in a 10th grade Social Studies class than their Chinese peers.

159

Excerpt 40. Hōkūleʻa43

1 Kaori: (Stopping the Youtube video students are watching) So he’s one of the captains of Hōkūleʻa. The first voyage. So that’s one of the movies we’re going to watch. The other guy, he’s a captain too. (Restarts video) That’s how Hōkūleʻa looks like.

2 Student: Philippines.

3 Kaori: I think it went to Philippines too. (video ends) Can you turn the light on? You have cellphone, right? And you have Google map. … What is GPS? – Global positioning system. So GPS has satellite, right? Before we had GPS, Polynesian people found these islands in the middle of the Pacific. What did they use?

In line 2, the student sees the canoe and says “Philippines,” seemingly unable to form a full

sentence to express his thoughts, and Kaori acknowledges this by saying “I think it went to

Philippines too” (l. 3), but in fact, Hōkūleʻa did not. In the ship’s numerous voyages, it has

visited Samoa, Tahiti, Easter Island, the Marshall Islands, the Federated States of Micronesia,

Okinawa, and Palau. Marshallese, Micronesian and Palauan crew members were involved in the

2007 voyage “One Ocean, One People.” However, Marshallese and Micronesian students

mentioned nothing of this during the video, possibly due to not knowing. Moreover, in the

original voyage of Hōkūleʻa in the 1970s, no Hawaiians could be found who retained knowledge

of traditional sailing, so the Polynesian Voyaging Society called on Mau Piailug to teach them.44

He was from Satawal Island, Yap State, part of the Federated States of Micronesia.

I observed a similar situation during a Socratic discussion in Juan’s class in the fall, of a

poem by Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner. The poem was about the need to dismantle stereotypes of

Micronesian and Marshallese peoples in Hawai‘i, and while Filipino students voiced support for

43 This dialogue is from the fall semester, transcribed as I sat in the class without the help of an audio-recording, to the best of my ability. That semester, there were 4–5 Micronesian or Marshallese students in the class, including Kaiea. By the spring semester, only Kaiea remained. 44 http://www.hokulea.com/voyages/our-story/

160

Kijiner and had a lot to say, Chuukese and Marshallese students were quiet during the

discussion. Marshallese and Micronesian students’ reticence during Kaori’s lesson on Hōkūleʻa

and Juan’s Socratic seminar relates to Charalambous et al.’s (2016) argument that some students

may not want to draw attention to their ethnolinguistic identities in the classroom due to societal

prejudices, even if they are in the class ethnolinguistic majority, yet such identity positionings

are especially risky for the class ethnolinguistic minority (Bickmore & Parker, 2014). During an

interview with Kaori (dated April 25), I mentioned to her that I felt partly responsible for the

Filipino boys’ hegemony by encouraging them to use Filipino. She responded:

Mm:::::: you know, I think it’s OK to use [the L1/HL], but just have to think about the

fairness too. Because (.) this is how we place the students… 80% of Filipinos and one or

two uh (.) two from other ethnic groups. And that’s why, like Filipino students are more

comfortable to use their language.

When the ESL 9/10 class was discussing stereotypes at the end of their unit about race relations

in the U.S., she brought the discussion towards a stereotype students could relate to—that of the

ELL—in order to deconstruct it. Though the purpose of this conversation was to encourage the

class to challenge the stereotype, the Filipino students’ ethnocentrism again became apparent.

Excerpt 41. ELLs and Bi/Multilinguals

1 Kaori: You know so yesterday you were talking about gender and (.) what? Nationality and—

2 Cookie: Ability.

3 Unknown: Hobby.

4 Kaori: What else?

5 (other students say, “Age,” “People around you”)

6 Kaori: That’s right. I think we forgot a very important identity. You are all—

161

7 Cookie: Pili—

Fili—

8 Male student: [Pɛlɛpɛno]. (2.0) [ɛh ɛl ɛl].

(in Filipino accent) Filipino. (2.0) E-L-L.

9 Kaori: What does it mean ELL? … What do other people think of ELL? Can you tell me. Go ahead. ELL students are—

10 (class shouts answers, including “stupid,” “funny,” “handsome,” “crazy, “lazy”)

11 Male student: Huwag n’yong (XXX) yung sarili n’yo.

Don’t (XXX) yourselves.

12 Kaori: What do you think some people think about ESL students?

13 Cookie: They don’t know how to speak.

14 Male student: Their grammar is wrong. … No grammar…

15 Kok: Like Skusta miss.

16 Male student: Accent.

17 Kaori: Oh, accent!

18 Boys and Juliana:

(chorus) Ooooh!

19 Kaori Or (.) do you know this one? (writes FOB on the chart paper where she has written their responses) F-O-B means what?

20 (Someone says “Fuck boy”; Juliana laughs)

21

Kaori: I didn’t hear that. (1.0) Because a couple years ago, a student asked me—because she was in the mainstream class, it was like a regular English class. The girl came to me and said, (raises voice) ‘Miss, you know, the girls call me F-O-B and all the people started laughing. (1.0) I laughed too, but I didn’t understand. Why they laughing at me?’ What is an F-O-B?

22 Male student: Fresh—

23 Kaori: Fresh (.) off the boat. That’s right. Fresh off the boat. Well, you’re not gonna come here by boat… but this is a kind of expression, immigrant (.) just came to the country. ... Now, I’m gonna ask you. Are these all true?

162

24 Kaiea and Cookie:

No.

25 Kaori: Are you stupid?

26 Skusta: No.

27 Male student: Yes.

28 Kaori: No⇅. Are you lazy? Are you dumb? … That’s something I want you to write about too. ‘People think I’m ELL, people think I’m this. But I’m not. I’m bilingual. I can speak two languages.’ That’s a positive thing too. … So that’s why we—our project name is Voice. All of you have some voice. And it should be heard by other people.

Kaori began the dialogue by prompting the students to think about an identity category they all

shared, which Cookie responds to with “Pili—” before stopping himself (l. 7), seeming to realize

mid-answer that the class is not all Filipino. However, another boy then says “Pɛlɛpeno. (2.0) ɛh

ɛl ɛl,” with a stylized Filipino accent (l. 8). In contrast, Kaori was searching for the answer

“ELL,” as not all her students are Filipino. Once the ELL answer is given, she asks students to

brainstorm stereotypes of ELLs, which is surely a touchy topic; this is perhaps why one boy says,

“Don’t (XXX) yourselves” (l. 11) in Filipino, and why others give non-serious answers, such as

“handsome” (l. 10). Eventually, however, students mention some answers Kaori is looking for:

“they don’t know how to speak” (l. 13), “their grammar is wrong” (l. 14), and “accent” (l. 16).

The last term causes the Filipino boys and Juliana to chorus, “Ooooh!” (l. 18) as accent was a

sensitive topic in certain interactions between them. Kaori then tells the story of a girl who was

upset about being called a FOB. She asks the students if they know what FOB means (l. 19),

leading a Filipino boy to say “fuck boy” and Juliana to laugh at his contribution (l. 20). Ignoring

this, Kaori asks students if they think the stereotypes of FOBs are true (ll. 23, 25, 28). The

students, including Skusta, shout “No!” and even though a boy asserts “Yes,” after Skusta, Kaori

says, “No⇅” with emphasis, brings up the fact that people don’t realize ELLs are bilingual (l. 28),

163

and encourages students to share this aspect of their identity in a multi-class poetry anthology.

However, even though the content of the discussion is intended to be critical, participation

patterns again show the dominance of Filipino students, and Kaori does most of the talking

against the stereotype. Thus, students’ more extended thoughts regarding this stereotype remain

untapped.

Contrary to the assumption that bringing students’ linguistic and cultural funds of

knowledge into the curriculum leads to increased equity in itself (Jaspers, 2018), this study

illustrates that ethnocentrism and challenges to it are constructed in interaction. In dialogues

between linguistic majorities, linguistic minorities, and singletons, several themes emerged:

1. Uneven participation patterns favoring the ethnolinguistic majority, regardless of the

cultural content discussed or the language(s) used—even if every student spoke the same

amount due to controlled sharing, this group would still talk the most as a result of

numbers, while certain students from this group also tend to be the most vocal;

2. The ethnolinguistic majority’s far greater propensity to draw on translanguaging and

code-switching—not on these practices as a deliberate move towards social justice, but

rather for personal convenience as they could maximize opportunities to think with their

whole language repertoires and switch into a language the teacher didn’t understand

when bullying or copying—with other students less likely to make use of these

bi/multilingual affordances;

3. The ethnolinguistic majority’s code-switching into unsanctioned practices, such as

bullying or copying in languages other than English, particularly when the teacher could

not understand what was being said;

164

4. A tendency to publicly construct cultural identity in terms of national identity instead of

regional or transnational identity, obscuring differences between people from the same

country and possible affinities between transnationals from different countries of origin;

5. The lack of active uptake of discourses of transnationalism, bi/multilingualism, and

critical approaches to language learning across ethnolinguistic lines, even when

encouraged by workshop facilitators and teachers.

In the last two sections of this chapter, I make the case that use of classroom minority languages

is quantitatively and qualitatively different from that of classroom majority languages, and that

this is not problematic in itself. On the other hand, I also examine reasons why the classroom

linguistic majority’s hegemony might be tempered or exacerbated.

5.4 The Translanguaging of Classroom Minorities and Singletons

Mixed language practices can be expected to differ between classroom linguistic majorities and

classroom linguistic minorities/singletons due to how many members of the class speak each

language. Thus, it may not be symbolic inequality but situational circumstances that prevent

linguistic minorities/singletons from translanguaging aloud. Fetu (who wrote in my questionnaire

that he did not use languages other than English in class “Because there are other kids who

doesn’t know how to speak my language”) translanguaged in the poem he wrote for the multi-

class poetry anthology, titled “I am a va’a”:

I am a va’a45

In American Samoa, in the past, there were two giants

lua lapoa who are brothers, uso

45 To fit the formatting of this dissertation, I have omitted line breaks in students’ poems. In Fetu’s poem, Samoan words are in Papyrus font.

165

Their names were Matafao and Pioa

but they always argued

Later on, Matafao and Pioa passed away

on the same day

and became the two biggest mountains in American Samoa

They are the most important mountains of all time

because they’re big, tall, and beautiful

like my parents who always fight when it comes down

to financial and family issues

I am a va’a who is still rowing to find answers

to help my parents

Most of the Samoan words in the poem have no direct English translations; these include the

giants’ names and “va’a,” which has metaphorical significance and is not just any canoe (the

same word exists in Hawaiian and Tahitian). “Uso” is a translation of the word that came before,

“brother(s).” “Lua lapoa” is “two big.” Interestingly, “lua” (two) is a cognate of “dua” (two in

Ilokano), though Ilokano students would likely not realize this from context alone. Language that

most of the group does not understand can have a heightened effect of mystery; the unfamiliar

words can command attention precisely because of the lack of semantic information.

Similarly, in her poem “Jojo to Friend,” Kaiea made minimal yet judicious use of

Marshallese, ending the poem as follows:

When the darkness looks dangerous

Remember I’ll always be there,

To brighten your day.

Keemejmej bwe Iroij ej meram eo.

I know it’s hard but keep goin’

166

’Cause love for me

Ain’t no joke.

Since Marshallese online dictionaries are rarer that Samoan ones, and I was unable to find a

Marshallese translator through my academic networks, I was not able to translate the whole

phrase, but found using an online dictionary that “Iroij” means “Lord” and “meram” means

“light.” These suggest that the phrase in Marshallese (bold in the original) is related to Kaiea’s

faith as a Christian. Again, even though non-English language use is minimal, it is imbued with

significance.

Another example of using a classroom minority language minimally but very

intentionally occurred with He, as English 9 students spent the first third of class on May 2

signing the poetry anthology for Juan’s friend, also a teacher at the school. While each student

was signing the page with his/her biography, He asked a question aloud, seemingly to no one in

particular, although he probably expected a response from Juan:

Excerpt 42. Chinese Name or English Name? (Part 1)

1 He: Oh should I write my Chinese name or my English?

2 Juan: Ha?

3 Fetu: Chinese name.

4 He: English or Chinese?

5 Juan: OK. Can I ask you something. Why are you asking that question?

6 He: I don’t know. I just asking.

7 Juan: There should be a reason why you started asking that question.

8 Fetu: Everything happens for a pur[pose—

9

Juan: [You chose it. Choose it. >How do you wanna write it, English or Chinese, that’s your choice. That’s your name.< (2.0) I love that question. I dunno, I just love it.

167

Juan’s “Ha?” (l. 2) in response to He’s question is not “What did you say?” in brusque English; it

is Filipino for “What did you say?” in a regular tone. This is comprehensible for both Fetu and

He, the former suggesting that He use his Chinese name (l. 3). Instead of also suggesting that He

showcase his Chinese heritage, Juan asks He why he asked that question (l. 5). In reply, He says

that he doesn’t know (l. 6), and Fetu starts to joke around (l. 8), but Juan cuts Fetu off with a

passionate, quickly spoken statement: “You chose it. Choose it. >How do you wanna write it,

English or Chinese, that’s your choice. That’s your name.<” (l. 9). Two minutes later, Juan

checked back to see what He chose:

Excerpt 43. Chinese Name or English Name? (Part 2)

1 Juan: Did you write it in Chinese?

2 He: One special book.

3 Juan: One special book in Chinese, that’s good. Why don’t you make all of it special? [i.e., sign the others in Chinese]

4 Fetu: Hurry up He. I’m gonna write my name in Chinese too.

5 Juan: See Summer [a girl in another class] wrote it in Chinese too.

In effect, He has decided to create a limited edition copy of the anthology that has his Chinese

signature in it. Although Juan suggests making them all special (l. 3) and points out that someone

else wrote their name in Chinese (l. 5), I see what He is trying to do: the existence of the English-

signed copies heightens the value of the Chinese-signed one.46 The same effect cannot be

achieved by signing his English name in one book, and his Chinese name in all the others. He is

aware of the indexicalities of the languages in this school where Chinese students are a minority,

and plays with them effectively.

46 In a follow-up email, I asked Juan what he thought of He’s question. Juan wrote back: “It was an interesting question because non-English names are often anglicized when people move to the US. … I interpreted He’s question as his desire to reclaim part of his identity.”

168

As this study is not a study of code-meshing (Canagarajah, 2011a, 2011b) or textual

multilingualism, the reader may wonder why I am discussing these written excerpts from the

Voices anthology. Those who promote translanguaging often count instances of oral mixed

language use as the most common evidence of translanguaging’s many social and academic

benefits, but this can put undue pressure on linguistic minorities/singletons in the class, judging

them by the standards of the linguistic majority, and expecting them to showcase their languages

in talk when it is pragmatically infelicitous to do so. Again, the choice not to speak the L1/HL in

class does not necessarily indicate that the language is devalued in that environment, but might

simply be due to the fact that some L1s/HLs are less useful for sociocognitive (i.e., thinking

aloud together) and pragmatic purposes when not all group members or classmates understand

them. Therefore, not speaking the L1/HL in class does not necessarily need to be interpreted as

(1) being against translanguaging or (2) being ashamed of one’s L1/HL. At least in the cases

illustrated in this section, multilingual practices in minority languages arose both out of

individual choice and a social context where it would make sense to deploy languages the

audience did not necessarily know, to accomplish stylization (He) or rhetorical code-meshing

(Kaiea and Fetu).47

Compared to majority languages, minority languages have different affordances in the

classroom ecology (rather than being lingua francas for collaborative thinking aloud) precisely

because few, rather than many, people understand them. On the rare occasions when they are

47 Of the 54 poems in the book, 29 were in English only and 25 were multilingual. Of the multilingual poems, 14 featured parallel translation (the poem might be written twice, in English and another language, or the poem could be mainly in English, with any non-English words directly followed by their translations). Six poems contained proper nouns in other languages but were otherwise in English, and five involved code-meshing, in that they were multilingual and non-parallel, with untranslated elements from another language.

169

used, their very sight or sound commands attention: “Something special is happening or being

shared, look/listen!” Also, others’ lack of knowledge of minority languages can lead to curiosity,

and it is often necessary to ask the author him/herself for a translation, which in turn confers

them with linguistic authority. Although my study data did not contain oral examples of

singletons or students from the linguistic minority “wowing” others with their languages, the use

of these languages for rhetorical and symbolic purposes in creative writing rather than

sociocognitive and pragmatic purposes in everyday classroom interactions suggests what

affordances minority languages have given class and school demographics. Future studies can

examine this issue further, for instance by collecting audio-data from literary readings,

supplemented with interviews about what was memorable about poems in different languages.

Note that what counts as a majority or minority language, and the affordances of

speaking each of these, is more dependent on the demographics of a particular classroom than

the role/place of each language in the wider society. Methods like linguistic ethnography that

examine translanguaging in its situational context are ideal for describing such affordances.

5.5 Code-Switching, Code Choices, and Inclusion/Exclusion

The majority group’s linguistic hegemony in ESL 9/10 seemed stronger than in English 9, not

because there was less Ilokano in English 9 than Filipino in ESL 9/10, but because students in

ESL 9/10 rarely talked to their non-Filipino peers, while this was not the case in English 9. Even

though Ilokano was often heard in Juan’s class, there was also ample use of English to

communicate with non-Ilokano students. For example, in Excerpt 44 (January 17), Kix, Clara,

and Kleo were doing individual work at a small table together. While learning about metaphor,

their task was to complete the phrase “my life is a(n)…” by drawing the concept on a piece of

paper, accompanied by a paragraph explaining the metaphor.

170

Excerpt 44. Inclusive Code- and Mode-Switching

38:00 Kleo: “(XXX) recording us or something?”48 Kix: “°Yes.°” Kleo starts to sing pleasantly.

40:55 Kleo asks what day it is: “Is today Wednesday?” Clara answers: “Thursday.”

42:30 Private conversation between Clara and Kix in Ilokano49

43:50 Rayna comes to the table. “Are you drawing it this way, or this way?” (i.e., it should be portrait, not landscape) Kix: “Oh snap!” (Aliah laughs) During Rayna’s visit, Kix has been singing what sounds like R&B in English, but his voice is so soft I can’t make out the words.

46:10 Kleo responds by singing a line from a song herself, in English

48:30 Kleo asks, “What is that for?” Kix: “Drawing.” Kleo: “No this one.” Kix: “Recording.” Kleo: “=Oh.” Kleo tuts a harmony; Kix: “Some people want it all…”

Kleo: “I need a ruler. … (demandingly) He, do you have a ruler?” He: “I’ve been asking people for a ruler.”

50:00 Kleo and Kix continue to sing, each his/her own R&B song, in English

This trend continued throughout the whole period: personal talk in Ilokano between Kix and

Clara, and singing R&B between Kix and Kleo. Kix’s singing English songs in tandem with

Kleo was phatic and affiliative, while his talk with Clara, secretive and intimate, was in Ilokano.

While he engaged in some chat with Kleo, it was less personal; however, Kix and Kleo were

similar in that they seemed to be enjoying themselves in class more than Clara. The point is that

Kix’s code- and mode-switching allowed both Clara and Kleo to feel comfortable and included

at the table (by at least one other person; moreover, I didn’t think the girls had anything against

each other). Kix listens as Clara talks about what she is going through in Ilokano, which she

understandably does not want a mere acquaintance, Kleo, to hear, while Kleo and Kix express

their mutual affinity for R&B such that Kleo does not have to be silent or ignored during the

conversation between Kix and Clara.

48 I was not able to explain the study to all students at the same time, though Kleo participated in all aspects of it. 49 Some conversations between students were about private matters, and even though my translator interpreted them, I did not note down what was said.

171

In Excerpt 45 below (April 18), Eufia, Rizze, He, and Fetu displayed inclusive code-

switching while discussing Juliet’s arranged marriage to Paris and making personal connections

to the text by considering what it would be like to marry or be betrothed at such an early age.

The conversation is sparked by Fetu’s realization that Romeo and Juliet are their own age:

Excerpt 45. Inclusive Code-Switching in Group Literary Analysis

1 Fetu: Oh, this is also an event. … This one. [Reads nurse’s lines] On the night of Lammas Eve, she’ll be fourteen. That’s an event, yeah?

2 Rizze: Gonna be fourteen.

3 Fetu: Man, are they that young? They are that young.

4 Eufia: He. What’s the— (notices He reading to himself) Oh never mind.

5 Fetu: No like Ro—Romeo and Juliet. They are that young. Not even adults. Thought they’re like (.) twenty-something.

6 Rizze: Teenagers?

7 Fetu: They’re still like yeah. We’re older than them.

8 Eufia: Really?

9 He: She’s fourteen and [he’s] fifteen.

10 Eufia: *IL Agkasar da kastoy.

They’re getting married at this age.

11 Rizze: Oh my god, fifteen?

12

13

Eufia: *IL Awan pay boyfriend ko (.) fourteen.

I didn’t even have a boyfriend at (.) fourteen.

(to He) Would you want, would you go?

14 He: Go where?

15 Eufia: Married? With Rizze?

16 Rizze: What?! (laughs)

17 Eufia: If it’s arranged marriage?

18 He: I’d rather die.

172

19 Rizze: Me too, I’d rather die than marry He.

20 Eufia: Rather live, and I’ll kill you.

The first noteworthy aspect of this discussion is that most of it is in English. The need to bring

students’ home languages into the classroom does not mean that ample translanguaging should

occur in every activity; the prevalence of English here is likely due to the fact that the group has

four students who speak at least three home languages. As with Excerpt 44, a switch into Ilokano

occurs with reason, as Eufia explains to Rizze (who appeared to have the lowest English

proficiency of the four, especially when it came to productive oral proficiency) that Juliet is

getting married at this age. Rizze, responding, says, “Oh my god, fifteen?” in English, allowing

Fetu and He to understand her reaction. Eufia continues in Ilokano with a personal disclosure for

Rizze (l. 12), then switches into English to ask He how he would like to be married at their age

(l. 13). This leads to humor and conviviality in the group (ll. 14-20).

Recall that Rizze and Eufia previously flirted with He in Ilokano and Filipino, languages

he did not understand (Excerpt 27). In addition, they spoke mock Chinese to him, e.g., “Kong

hey fat shing,” “Kong hey Heshing” (field notes, February 7). When I interviewed He about

these dialogues, I didn’t expect him to almost cry. That is, when I asked, “…does it bother you

when they speak nonsense Chinese? Do you get offended?” he took a second to answer, then

said quietly, “Sometimes.” I asked him why it offended him, and he said in a wavering voice,

“Because I don’t like people teasing my culture.” At that point I quickly changed topic. After

telling Juan about this interview, I noted the girls’ treatment of He change remarkably. Two

weeks later, Rizze said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you He.” And a week after that, she and Eufia

were demonstrably friendly and respectful towards He (Excerpt 45).50

50 A linguistic ethnographer’s role is not interventionist, but I believe it was important to report instances of bullying. I also believe that Rizze’s apology to He was the catalyst for her to start

173

This brings us to the question of why there was more inclusion of linguistic minorities

and singletons in English 9 than ESL 9/10. While Kaori was experienced at scaffolding and

excellent at classroom management, and Rayna was both firm and versatile under difficult

conditions, how the ethnolinguistic majorities of both classes saw their own abilities in English

reflected how they treated the minorities.51 In other words, the majority linguistic group was

inclusive of minority students and singletons (as well as newcomers from their own group) if the

majority group appeared to feel competent in English class. This is suggested by a parallel

interaction across the classes as both selected their speaker for the multilingual poetry book

launch, documented in field notes with transcribed audio-recordings (Excerpts 46 and 47). The

ESL 9/10 class decided their speaker first, on April 4:

Excerpt 46. Electing a Speaker for the Poetry Book Launch (ESL 9/10)

4:00 Rayna explains how one person will represent their classroom at the poetry launch

4:30 Rayna says, “I want you guys to volunteer if you want to share your poem.” People raise their hands and Rayna writes down their names on the board: Juliana, Flow-G, Aaron…

4:50 Aaron: “Miss, what’s that?” Luke: “Babasahin mo doon sa mga maraming tao.” [You’re going to read there in front of many people.] Aaron: (not realizing what he volunteered for) “=Hala!52 Oh no! Just joking miss!” (classmate laughts) Rayna: “Aaron if you are being silly I cannot have you on the list.”

5:10 Aaron keeps shouting “Just joking miss!” with others laughing. Aaron: (to Luke, who has volunteered) “Tanga tatanongin ka nila bobo.” [Dummy they’re going to ask you idiot.] Luke: “Ayaw mo?” [You don’t want?] Aaron: “Pagkatapos babasahin tatanongin ka nila, puro English!” [After reading they’ll ask you stuff, all in English!]

6:50 Boys jokingly call out Kyrie’s name (Juliana’s brother still in the “silent stage” of English acquisition) as Rayna elicits volunteers

7:20 Rayna tells them to write their pick on a slip of paper, choosing from names on the board

displaying that she liked He back even though he was not from her ethnic group (although the participants did not give me permission to document issues of a more personal nature). 51 Confidence in English being linked to inclusion of others who were more linguistically vulnerable—e.g., singletons or students whose English was still emergent—was a general trend. 52 This is “oh no” in a number of Pacific Islander languages, including Hawaiian.

174

7:50 Cookie: “Kyrie, Kyrie, Kyrie!” Unknown boy: “Luke, Luke, Luke! Luke, gago [bastard].” Cookie: “Sige sige sige.” [Fine fine fine.] Unknown girl next to Cookie: “Pangalan lang?” [Just the name?] Cookie: “Luke. Luke Luke Luke Luke.” Girl: “Si Luke? Juliana na lang.” [Luke? How about Juliana.] Cookie: “Bahala kayo diyan.” [It’s up to you guys.] Luke: “Gusto mo mag basa? Ayaw ko na!” [Do you want to read? I don’t want to anymore!] Unknown girl: “Tapos Luke na lang.” [Then Luke after all.] Cookie: “Luke na lang. Luke.” [Luke after all. Luke.] (snickers) Aaron: (presumably to Luke) “Tapos di ka makasalita. Volunteer volunteer ka.” [Then you won’t be able to talk. You ‘volunteer volunteer.’]

9:50 Rayna: “So let’s reveal (.) who is going to present for our class.” Luke is the clear winner (7/15 votes, with the other 8 votes divided between 3 people). Cookie bursts out laughing and cheering every time Luke’s name is announced by Rayna; at one point, he announces “Isa dalawa tatlo apat lima anim!” [One two three four five six!] The other boys react similarly to Luke’s election, loudly drumming on the table.

10:22 Luke’s name is pulled yet again. Boys: “Hala hala!” Juliana: (singsong voice) “Hala!”

10:30 There is also one vote for Kyrie. Someone quips “Habol Kyrie.” [Catch up Kyrie.]

11:20 Luke: “MISS! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH!” Rayna: “But you wanted to do it.” Cookie: “You don’t know how to speak sabi yata sa English naman.” [You don’t know how to speak I think you said it in English after all.] Rayna: “Why did you raise your hand?” Ricky: “Yeah.” Luke: “I was joking miss.” (class laughter) Luke: “No, miss…” (cheering) Rayna: “Luke, you have to decide now.” Luke: “Miss I don’t know promise.” Anna: “He wants to.” Luke: “No, I don’t know.” Rayna: “So, Luke is going to represent our class!” (Class cheers.)

12:40 Luke: “Miss, please!” Aaron: “Another vote miss. Another vote!” Rayna: “I cannot tell if you’re serious or being silly.” Overlapping talk; multiple students insist on another vote.

13:10 Kaori: “Can you be quiet!? If everybody’s talking, [students suddenly fall silent] we cannot decide anything. Right? One person at a time. Right? You know, I’m so glad (.) Luke (.) she’s a—he’s the newest, right? But he wanted to read, I think yea—his poem’s good, it’s OK for him to go for it. But uh (.) also, what he has to do at the library? Not just reading, but he has to explain. So maybe you know, this is my suggestion. Aaron I’m sorry but I’m talking. (3.0) So if, maybe somebody can help him too. So maybe you know, he can read, if some—if he has to say about the project, maybe if one person can be with him, and you can explain to him too. What do you think?” (Kaori keeps talking about the poems, explains that they should read each other’s poems and then decide among themselves which poems they’d like to have read out at the launch) Actually, everybody did a good job. OK? Everybody has y’know chance. But I don’t—we don’t wanna force (.) anybody who doesn’t wanna read. Right? ’Cause it has to be some (.) willingness, ’cause you have to present. So, what d’you think?” (She tells them she will print out the poems so they can discuss it.)

15:50 Aaron: “Buti na lang bro. (1.0) Buti na lang Luke.” [Good thing it happened bro (i.e., Kaori saved your skin). (1.0) Good thing it happened.]

15:55 Kaori: (loudly) “LUKE IT’S OKAY! You can read, but we can help. That’s fine.”

175

16:00-16:30 Rayna elicits people to volunteer to help; Kaori calls on girls first to put their hands up, then boys.

While the class appears to turn on Luke until he is abashed and withdrawn, note that Aaron53 is

the one who is embarrassed at the start of the dialogue, as he unwittingly volunteers to give a

speech in English at the public library. His panic is met with laughter from his peers; on top of

that, Luke, a new boy who has confidence in English, asks him what the problem with speaking

in public is (5:10). Aaron then uses harsh language with Luke, telling him only a fool would

want to go up and answer all those questions in English, and the other boys make the situation

worse by suggesting that Kyrie, a boy who hasn’t yet gone beyond the silent stage of L2

acquisition, should be their speaker (6:50). Instead of defending her brother Kyrie, Juliana takes

part in the mirth of making inappropriate nominations (e.g., 10:22). At 7:50, an unknown girl

suggests voting for Juliana, who has much better English skills, but Cookie tells her to vote for

Luke, who is by then passionately recanting. At 11:20, Luke yells out: “MISS! I DON’T KNOW

HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH!” It is then that I cannot help speaking up, saying “he wants to,”

which in hindsight, might not have been the best thing to do, since Luke’s desire to represent the

class appears to have been taken down thoroughly. As Rayna announces that Luke is going to be

their speaker, students cheer.54

Note the silence of the singletons in this excerpt—I do not think they were among the

cheerers, as they could not follow the social metacommentary about the election. When Filipino

students call for another vote immediately after the result of the first, Rayna says, “I cannot tell if

you’re serious or being silly” (12:40). Here, Kaori intervenes. First, she validates Luke’s desire

53 In an interview, Kaori mentioned that Aaron and Flow-G seemed to be the ones the other boys looked up to the most, although Aaron was somewhat “kolohe” (naughty). Nevertheless, she praised Aaron’s ability to ask critical questions. Aaron was also a star basketball player. 54 Ultimately, the speaker at the event was Juliana.

176

to speak for the class, praising him for volunteering even though he was a new student. Despite

not understanding what Aaron said at 5:10—“Pagkatapos babasahin tatanongin ka nila, puro

English!” [After reading they’ll ask you stuff, all in English!]—Kaori responds directly to the

issue of English anxiety. She suggests that students assist each other to speak, tells them they all

did a good job, and reminds them that one has to be willing to present, ending with “what do you

think?” (13:10). Aaron comments to Luke that Kaori saved him (15:50), while Kaori assures

Luke, “LUKE IT’S OKAY! You can read, but we can help. That’s fine” (15:55). Then, when

Rayna asks for people to volunteer to help Luke, Kaori calls on girls first to put up their hands,

giving them an opportunity to be heard in this moment and at the reading (16:00-16:30).

The same process of electing a class speaker for the book launch occurred in Juan’s class

on April 11, a week later.

Excerpt 47. Electing a Speaker for the Poetry Book Launch (English 9)

1:50-5:00 Juan talks about their poetry book launch sponsors, who together have donated $1,950 for food, T-shirts, etc. He says Kix will represent the class on May 4 at the library, but they are to choose another person to represent the class at the school launch (May 16).

5:20 Juan: “’Kay can you guys talk about who you might want to—” Eufia: “Diana!”55 (Diana has been chanting “Eufia Eufia” under her breath.) Rizze: “He:::!” Eufia: “I pick He.” Rizze: “I pick He.” Fetu: “I pick He.” He: “I pick Eufia.” Kix: “I pick Eufia.” Juan: “Or maybe I pick.” Rizze: “[Yeah.” Eufia: “[Yeah, Mr. Juan.” He: “Yeah, we pick Mr. Juan. All of us who ever picked Mr. Juan raise their hand.” Juan: “OK why don’t we use the popsicle sticks?” Eufia: “Oooh! Fetu. Rizze. Agsagana kan. [Be ready.]”

6:00 As Juan arranges the popsicle sticks and pulls out the names of absent students and Kix (the May 4 representative), he tells how he learned to use popsicle sticks from the Japanese-American teacher at the school who was his mentor; Rizze and Diana sing to themselves in Filipino

7:00 Juan: “It’s (.) Fetu.” He: “Ohh-hoh, yeah! YE::AH!” Eufia: “YE::::AH!” Girls laugh. (clapping and cheering, but not rowdy) Fetu: (joking) “What the—what the hell mister?” Juan: “So Fetu will be our representative.” Eufia: “Aha ha! (1.0) Go Fetu!” (He laughing) Juan: “Now, we are still looking for other roles, if you want to emcee our event…”

7:35 Juan says the other thing they need to do is vote on their book cover.

55 Despite being new, Diana was not shy, and received plenty of support from Ilokano peers.

177

The contrasts between this dialogue and the one in ESL 9/10 the week before were stark—every

nomination was in earnest, many vocal students were nominated, no quiet students were

nominated, they sincerely cheered the winner, and it was over in two minutes. The similarity

between the two dialogues is that Juan, like Kaori, ends by telling students that there are going to

be other roles.

I argue that English 9 students’ acceptance of the diversity of English levels in their class,

by including less proficient students in group discussions but not volunteering them as speakers,

contributed to the inclusion of other kinds of linguistically vulnerable students, including

singletons and classroom minorities.56 Conversely, Aaron’s moves to save face in Excerpt 46

after he didn’t realize what he was volunteering for in English led to Luke being the one whose

English was undermined. This was not an isolated incident of language anxiety in ESL 9/10;

there were many such moments, often accompanied by loud social commentary in Filipino. In

Excerpt 46, Kaori seemed to sense what was happening to Luke, given her speech, even though

she later told me she couldn’t guess what the boys said. By praising Luke in particular and the

class in general, she was trying to bring down stress levels, appropriately handling the situation

without needing to speak the majority group’s L1/HL.

The connection between English anxiety and ethnolinguistic hegemony that I am trying

to make is supported by canonical research. An ethnographically rich, 2.5-year study at a

Honolulu school by Talmy (2008, 2010) uncovered the same phenomenon of dominance in ESL

56 On another occasion (May 2), when students were acting out Romeo and Juliet’s first meeting in pairs, Raoul, a Chuukese boy, came during the last 20 minutes of class, during the rehearsals. At 56:20, Juan exclaimed, “Yay, Raoul is here!” and at 58:00, Raoul could be heard coaching one of the groups: “Go like this bro? Take the card. Put it in your mouth.” At 63:40, when it was time to perform, Juan said, “What is Raoul gonna do? He’s part of the ball. Like he’s (.) wearing a mask right now. That’s why he has sunglasses,” to which He added, “He’s the DJ.”

178

classes by loud male students. However, in that school’s ELL classes there was greater

ethnolinguistic diversity:

The three classes I observed averaged over 30 students, aged 14–18, about one-third of

whom were at early levels of L2 development… another third of whom I identified as

Local ESL with the remainder at levels of English expertise in between. (Talmy, 2008, p.

623)57

In Talmy’s ethnography, ESL classes contained “FOBs” (newcomers) and “Lifers.” The latter

group of students had grown up in the U.S. and were fluent in English for everyday purposes, but

struggled with academic reading/writing, not unlike monolingual English speakers with limited

academic preparation. Although Lifers had ethnolinguistic markers in their speech that indicated

their difference from the “mainstream,” they rejected the ELL label by positioning the

newcomers as the real ELLs. To do this, the Lifers—especially the loud male Lifers—repeated

newcomers’ English pronunciation mistakes and constantly challenged the teachers, to their

faces and behind their backs, with wry metacommentary in Hawai’i Creole.

Exactly the same phenomenon, but again with different language groups, was observed in

a classroom ethnography in the Netherlands by Jaspers (2011). Here, the official language was

Dutch, and the class’ dominant group consisted of a Moroccan majority while the subordinate

group had Arabic, Turkish, Berber, and White working-class Dutch students. The Moroccan

majority had “good vernacular competence in Dutch” (p. 1268) and knew how to make their talk

57 In my research site’s ELL program, there are two levels of remedial ESL classes students must take before enrolling in for-credit English classes like the sheltered English course at their grade level (e.g., Juan’s English 9). As Kaori explained in one of her interviews, the first level, for absolute beginners, had mainly Marshallese and Micronesian students, while the second level, which some students could test directly into, enrolled mainly Filipino students. The class I call ESL 9/10 in this study is at the second level, enrolling 9th and 10th grade students whose English proficiency did not yet qualify them for their grade-level sheltered English course.

179

more academic or more casual depending on the situation, though they still struggled with

academic language. They spoke ethnolectal varieties of Dutch, yet had a wide range of Dutch

pragmatic competence nonetheless—in that they could identify and style a wide range of Dutch

dialects and registers, which allowed them, especially the loud boys, to do what Jaspers called

“doing ridiculous,” hijacking lessons and thwarting the teacher’s intentions through witty verbal

repartees. These Moroccan-Dutch students also made fun of the ways of speaking of the

classroom minority students, pointing out their non-standard Dutch, while the minoritized

students could not fight back—like the “FOBs” in Talmy’s study—as they “lacked the skill for

witty repartee [in any dialect of the official classroom language] and were effectively

marginalized in public classroom talk” (Jaspers, 2011, p. 1275), unable to draw on the other

languages they knew that were not very useful in this setting.

In this study, my findings do more than point to the idea that students who speak non-

standard English engage in fractal recursivity, or the tendency of a marginalized group to split up

into those who identify with the oppressor by putting down other members of their group (Irvine

& Gal, 2000). Applying this construct to ESL classes, Talmy (2008) noted that linguistic fractal

recursivity involves “othering” of students who are even more linguistically disadvantaged, to

claim a more competent identity as a speaker of a language—even if one doesn’t position oneself

as a standard speaker of the language. Beyond observing that fractal recursivity occurs in high

schools, I want to highlight the danger of laissez faire translanguaging in such a situation. Unlike

the Lifers in Talmy’s study or the Moroccan students in Jaspers’, the Filipino boys in my study

were not even proficient in the vernacular dialect of the official classroom language. The “loud

boys” in my study didn’t need to be, because laissez faire translanguaging legitimized Filipino as

the language in which “doing ridiculous” could be accomplished. The teachers’ support of

180

translanguaging raised the currency of the majority non-English language, Filipino, but with

students’ English anxiety still relatively high, Filipino became the language that the loud males

of the majority language group used to position themselves as superior to their peers, which

posed an extra challenge since Kaori and Rayna did not have receptive understanding of Filipino

in the same way that teachers in Talmy’s and Jaspers’ studies had receptive knowledge of Pidgin

and Illegal, respectively. In other words, while encouraging home languages in the class might

only heighten students’ anxiety about their ESL identities, fostering acquisition of the official

language according to lingua franca norms while encouraging a range of multilingual practices

takes down the linguistic anxiety that leads to fractal recursivity.

It must be noted that even though the “loud Filipino boys” were the dominant group in

ESL 9/10, there were status differences among them. In the next chapter, I explore these

differences in more detail, as well as individual students’ beliefs towards translanguaging in both

classes and the stances they took in particular interactions. Additionally, linguistic majority

students (Ilokano or Filipino) showed various degrees of old-timer and newcomer-ness—from

growing up in the U.S. since early childhood to arriving 1–2 years before the study, to having

come very recently—which is not to say that old-timers (those who showed the most affinity

with English) were always the most privileged, as different discourses could be enabled favoring

different plurilingual profiles at different times.

181

CHAPTER 6

INDIVIDUAL STUDENTS WITHIN TRANSLANGUAGING NETWORKS

In this chapter, I turn to individual beliefs about the extent to which languages other than English

can be used in English class, and if so, how. While the previous chapter contrasted the mixed

language use of linguistic majorities and minorities, this chapter examines how students from the

same ethnolinguistic group differed in their language attitudes and practices. Classroom

participants form a language-brokering network with central and peripheral members (Malsbary,

2013), and individuals’ language use in an officially English medium class does not only depend

on whether or not they belong to the ethnolinguistic majority, but also on what any instance of

monolingual or multilingual language use would point to (Bucholtz & Hall, 2005), which

involves much individual variation and situation-specificity. For example, a person who has high

proficiency in both English and their home language and can function monolingually in each

language does not have their proficiency in English called into question when they translanguage

or code-switch, while this would not be the case for a person who struggles to function

monolingually in English or in both languages. Additionally, use of a language can signal

various things depending on the situation; for example, English can suggest one is

“nagmamalaki” (putting yourself above others) or trying to be as inclusive as possible, and this

social meaning might be different depending on who is hearing you speak English to the class

(e.g., other Filipino students or the Marshallese singleton).

To illustrate, the first half of this chapter compares the language practices of a frequent

translanguager in English 9, Kix, with the practices of Kix’s classmate Jhon, who expressed a

preference for “English only”—noting not only why Kix often translanguaged and why Jhon

often did not, but also when Kix did not translanguage and when Jhon finally did. The second

182

half of the chapter examines a critical incident in which Juliana, a relatively new Filipino student

in ESL 9/10, had her English abilities disparaged by two boys, Flow-G and Skusta. This incident

led Juliana to go from supporting to challenging the Filipino boys’ hegemony—using as much

Filipino as before, yet also making frequent contributions in English and including Rayna and

non-Filipino students as ratified hearers (Goffman, 2001). These examples not only suggest that

individual experiences exist within the majority language group but that inclusive multilingual

and lingua franca dispositions arise from the presence of fortuitous, moment-specific models.

6.1 English 9 Students’ Individual Responses to the Language Questionnaire

To get a sense of individual differences in how students perceived the quantity of their non-

English language use and evaluated their practices, I gave students a brief language questionnaire

(see Appendix A). The first question asked, “How often do you use another language in Mr.

Juan’s/Ms. Kaori’s class? Choose one: Never, Rarely, Sometimes, Often, or All the Time.” The

second question asked students to check all the ways in which they used other language(s) if

their answer to the question was Sometimes, Often, or All the Time: to think to oneself, to talk to

others, to write notes, to translate using the dictionary, or “other” (with a blank space). The third

question asked students to explain their answer to the first. If they used another language at least

sometimes, how was it helpful? If they rarely or never used another language apart from English,

why not? Table 6 summarizes their answers.

Table 6 English 9 Students’ Responses to Language Questionnaire

Student

Frequency of Use

Language(s) Used

Think to Self

Talk Aloud

Write Notes

Use Dictionary

Other

Rizze All the Time

Ilokano x x

Clara All the Time

Ilokano x (help translate)

Kix Often Ilokano x x x (talk to friends)

183

Raoul Sometimes Chuukese x x

Charlie Sometimes Chuukese x

Bob

Sometimes Chuukese x

He Sometimes Cantonese x

Eufia

Sometimes Ilokano x

Fetu

Rarely Blank

x x

Aliah

Rarely Ilokano x

Kleo

Rarely Marshallese

Jhon

Never Blank

Mike

Never Blank

Absent: Diana, who had not yet joined the class.

Except for Eufia (who downplayed her use of Ilokano in this questionnaire yet translanguaged

productively), the class appears to be divided into three groups in the chart: (1) self-identified

frequent translanguagers such as Kix, Rizze, and Clara, (2) self-identified mid-level

translanguagers, including the three Chuukese boys and the singleton He, none of whom actually

seemed to speak their languages aloud, even though one can also translanguage in one’s

thoughts, which three out of four of them reported doing, and (3) self-identified reluctant

translanguagers, such as Fetu, other ethnically Ilokano students (e.g., Aliah and Jhon; I am not

sure about Mike’s age when he immigrated, and he rarely came to class), and Kleo, born in

Hawai‘i, who was three quarters Marshallese and a quarter Chuukese.

Regarding the self-identified frequent translanguagers, I noticed that even though they

typically reported using Ilokano to talk, socialize, and help each other out, none reported writing

notes or using a dictionary—online Ilokano-English dictionaries being somewhat hard to

184

navigate, from my own experience writing this dissertation. Their responses stand in contrast to

Fetu’s, who marked that he rarely used Samoan (and did not even state his language on the

questionnaire), but reported writing notes and using a dictionary. He reported that he thought in

Cantonese but didn’t converse in it, which is not too surprising since no one would understand

him. The three Chuukese L1 boys gave interesting answers: I believe Bob’s claim that they

thought to themselves in Chuukese but did not use it in conversation, but Charlie reported that

they did converse in Chuukese, and Raoul reported that they both thought and conversed in

Chuukese. It is possible that due to my lack of knowledge of Chuukese and my placing the two

recorders with Kix and He on most days, I may have missed Chuukese (which I would identify

as such by hearing these boys speak a language I didn’t understand). However, it is my

impression from varying my seating on each visit that they did not actually speak Chuukese, and

I recorded no Chuukese even when two or more of the three Chuukese boys sat with He, Jhon,

and/or Fetu. In any case, the vast majority of translanguaging in the class was between Ilokano

and English.

The students who rarely or never translanguaged gave two main reasons: not knowing

how to speak the first or heritage language well (which we cannot take at face value), and

consideration for the whole class. Jhon wrote, “I want to know more English and I don’t want to

use my language in class because some people may not understand”; Mike inaccurately

responded, “Cause everyone is just speaking English”; Kleo stated, “I rarely speak my own

language in English class because I don’t know how to speak my own language”; Aliah

answered, “I rarely speak another language in class because sometimes I don’t remember...”

What all these students had in common was that they reported low levels of translanguaging,

corroborated by my observation. However, out of the four, I think only Kleo (who I had a long

185

interview with but soon left the class to go back to the Marshall Islands for an indeterminate

period of time) truly had low proficiency in her heritage language. Kleo’s mother, stepfather, and

stepfather’s mother had raised her as an English monolingual while cultivating bilingualism in

her two younger siblings, who were the children of Kleo’s mother and stepfather. As for Aliah

and Jhon, I believe they may have avoided translanguaging when they saw it done far more

adeptly by their more academically confident bilingual classmates. As resident ELL-designated

students who had undergone subtractive bilingualism over many years of schooling, one way to

position themselves positively was to assert a native English speaker, non-newcomer identity,

accompanied by a discourse of speaking English so everybody could understand them.

In the next section, I contrast Kix and Jhon in more detail, showing how the forms of

translanguaging each boy embraced—and Jhon did embrace a variety of translanguaging—

reflected their linguistic affiliations as well as a common need to be seen as competent members

of the class.

6.2 Literary Analysis: Translanguaging Kix, Reluctant Jhon

Kix, who immigrated to Hawai‘i in March 2018, received an English-medium education in the

Philippines, having earned a place at a school for students with high grades (see the details about

focal students’ educational backgrounds in Chapter 3). Since Kix described his proficiency in

English, Ilokano, and Filipino as “fairly equal,” he often took responsibility for helping other

Ilokano students in English 9. Yet one student Kix did not appear to help, monolingually or

bilingually, was Jhon. When sitting with Aliah and Jhon during a class taught by Juan’s

substitute, Kix worked alone while listening to music.

Excerpt 48. Kix Sitting with Jhon and Aliah during a Class Taught by the Substitute

1 Jhon: (pokes recorder) Hello?

186

2

3

Kix: Don’t touch that Jhon. (2.0) You’re so frickin’ annoying.

(A few seconds pass. Jhon begins to read haltingly.)

4

Jhon: <What is the time (.) place (.) a:::nd d:::e writing. (muttering indistinguishable things) That is those issue or idea that made the speaker think (.) about (.)> it seems cool right?

5

Kix: >The speaker in this article, Sherman Alexie,< an author (.) who writes books about traumatic experiences and adverse childhood experiences—experiences (.) and uses these books (Jhon begins to read his own answer to himself in the background) to help teens and children that suffered from ACE. Is that good already?

6 Jhon: [Yeah.

7 Aliah: [Huh?

8 Kix: Oh my god, you weren’t listening.

While Jhon seems invested in the activity, he does no more than read instructions. His indistinct

muttering followed by the question, “It seems cool, right?” (l. 4) suggests he is making a

pretense of having understood the material, which I often observed him do in group discussions,

even though his peers saw through it. Instead of offering help, Kix talks back quickly as a

rejoinder to Jhon’s slow speech (l. 5), reciting his entire answer as swiftly as he can, in contrast

to the many times when he played the role of tutor to Ilokano and non-Ilokano students alike

(e.g., Excerpts 23 and 37). Jhon and Aliah are rendered speechless (ll. 6-7), unable to follow and

participate in the languaging, at which point Kix says they aren’t listening (l. 8) and goes back to

his own work. Interestingly, Juan’s substitute, an elderly Ilokano man whom Kix never spoke to

in Ilokano, was the teacher that day. Even though the substitute acted like a proctor, managing

activities assigned by Juan, he did not have the English proficiency to understand the texts

students were studying and hence could not lead students in deconstructing them. This likely

contributed to Kix’s decision to work alone during this session, in contrast to how he usually

acted as a helper for Juan. That is, using Ilokano when the substitute was teaching could index

187

limited English proficiency rather than bilingual proficiency, and I also noted that others used

Ilokano less on these occasions (though that could also have been a by-product of Kix, the main

language broker, working monolingually).

In addition, during Excerpt 48, Kix appeared, consciously or subconsciously, to be

getting back at Jhon for his refusal to speak Ilokano in class, through which Jhon positioned

himself as a long-term resident of the U.S., even though Kix’s English was stronger. In an

interview with Kix, during which I asked him why he never spoke Ilokano to Jhon or the

substitute, Kix asserted that the choice to reserve Ilokano for Juan had to do with their closeness

(“when I’m talking to older, or more mature people in the class or in the school, I often speak to

them in English”), while the choice not to speak Ilokano with Jhon when they were working

together was Jhon’s, not his:

Excerpt 49. Kix Says Jhon Speaks English Only

1

Anna: So you’re saying that those classmates who are using Ilokano a lot outside of class (.) become more comfortable in Mr. Juan’s class if they’re allowed to speak some Ilokano in Mr. Juan’s class. Um (.) I notice you don’t talk to one Ilokano peer, Jhon, in Ilokano.

2

Kix: Ah. This is what Jhon said. J So, Jhon understands Ilokano, but the thing is (chuckling) he doesn’t reply back in Ilokano, so I (never?) bother talking to him in Ilokano in the sense that (.) you can communicate more talking in English.

3 Anna: He doesn’t talk back in Ilokano?

4 Kix: No.

5 Anna: But he can understand Ilokano?

6 Kix: =He can understand and he cannot—he can speak but he doesn’t choose to.

7 Anna: He can speak Ilokano.

8 Kix: Yeah. [So—

9 Anna: [But he doesn’t choose to.

188

10

Kix: So Mr. Juan asked that question last, last week (.) or is it last week. So, Mr. Juan asked, ‘You know Ilokano, why don’t you use Ilokano?’ and he said, because (2.0) um (2.0) um, speaking in English makes him (.) like, make him learn faster (.) in English, ’cuz if he’s gonna talk in Ilokano again that would like, messed up.

With some hesitations (l. 10), Kix seemed bemused by Jhon’s English-only attitude as if to imply

“we’re in America now.” (In my interviews with the two boys, Jhon reported speaking Ilokano at

home, and Kix said Jhon used Ilokano outside of class.) However, another explanation for Jhon’s

lack of Ilokano use in class might be genuine concern about not learning English well enough if

encouraged to speak Ilokano. This is the reason that Jhon gave when asked about his language

preferences (e.g., by Juan, as Kix reports in Excerpt 49, and by me). When I interviewed Jhon,

his account did not differ much from Kix’s regarding why he preferred not to use Ilokano in

English class—Jhon confirmed that he thought speaking Ilokano in class would get in the way of

his English learning:

Excerpt 50. Jhon Explains Why He Speaks English Only

1

Anna: (reading from Jhon’s language use survey) Like uh (.) what do you mean by you don’t—you always use English [in class] because you wanna learn more English. ˚What do you mean by that? ˚

2 Jhon: I dunno, I just wanna be (6.0) good at it.

3 Anna: Do you think that speaking Ilokano or (.) any other language prevents you from learning English?

4 Jhon: Mm-hm.

5 Anna: How?

6

Jhon: Yo::u (.) might (.) forget some (2.0) ’cuz if you keep speaking Filipino then (.) it’s gonna be your habits. Or, it’s gonna become your habit and then you might forget—

7 Anna: You might forget what the word is in English [Jhon: “Mm-hm.”] if you use another language.

As in Kix’s interview, Jhon’s hesitations (e.g., l. 2) suggest he is thinking about how he might

justify his language use in class. In Jhon’s view, there is a trade-off between speaking Ilokano

189

and speaking English, in terms of relative levels of practice and maintenance (ll. 6-7). It is worth

also providing the views of Juan, who struggled to understand Jhon’s perspective:

Excerpt 51. “I Don’t Know What’s Causing Him Not to [Translanguage]”

1

Juan: He doesn’t. I don’t know what’s causing him not to. Like, I’ve always had conversations with him about why he’s not using it? He doesn’t really—he doesn’t respond, like, he gives vague answers. I haven’t been successful to figure out why he’s not using Ilokano.

2 Anna: Do you think (.) his parents tell him not to or something like that?

3 Juan: It could be that. And there’s also probably, there’s still the stigma or shame. ’Cuz many of them, when they move here, they’re placed into English-only environments where (.) I guess—

4 Anna: But in this environment it’s being freely used by very competent students.

5

Juan: Right! But for some students (.) the effect of (.) their first engagement or first perception of the classroom—which I think validates the vunerability aspect, ’cuz (.) like for some students, they are introduced to that too late. Right? ’Cuz for Jhon, he got here—like, late el- or middle school. There was no, there’s probably little or zero, like, risk-taking or vulnerability in that first environment. You just carry over.

Whatever the reasons why Jhon felt he needed to perform the identity of an English monolingual

in class, this led to learning difficulties, and limited oral responses, partly stemming from a

reluctance to draw on his entire language repertoire during literary analyses. However, Jhon’s

attitude towards translanguaging changed during dramatic performances. As part of their Romeo

and Juliet unit, Juan’s students did a series of workshops with a local theater company, during

which Jhon was not only one of the most capable performers in English, but showed ample

multimodal and multidialectal translanguaging. In the next section, I provide a narrative of one

workshop with transcriptions of Jhon’s dialogues as he rehearsed with He, exploring why Jhon

seemed more comfortable with these kinds of translanguaging than multilingual translanguaging,

with implications for understanding the social contextualization of translanguaging-to-learn.

190

6.3 Dramatic Performance: Translanguaging Jhon, Reluctant Kix

On the day of the multi-class theater workshop, April 25, the visiting actor, Mr. Nick, took

Juan’s place at the front of the room. He began: “All right. Good morning (.) boys and girls. … I

like what I saw yesterday, Ms. Marie liked what she saw yesterday, and you guys are doing well.

And we’re (.) we’re gonna improve on that today.” First, he showed them how to use the “off”

position, standing still with one’s head down, with Ms. Marie demonstrating. She stood in this

position, then “turned on,” reciting a few of Romeo’s lines with expressive posture and gesture:

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? / It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!”—and

turned off again. Students then practiced turning “on” and “off” without saying anything, pulling

faces and doing body positions based on different scenarios Mr. Nick provided to them (e.g.,

receiving a puppy, smelling a fart).

Mr. Nick told them they would each be performing a few lines from their Romeo and

Juliet character that day, in front of the class. They first needed to say, “I’m [name] and I am

doing the line of [name],” then turn off, then turn on to perform their line, then turn off again.

Before the individual performances, students had 15 minutes to practice with a partner. In

the pair rehearsals, I saw a different side of Jhon as he worked with his partner, He. Like every

pair, Jhon and He took turns delivering lines they had memorized, Jhon first.

Excerpt 52. Jhon and He Rehearsing (Part 1)

1

Jhon: Hi. My name is Jhon (.) and I’m doing the line of Mercutio. (7.0) Ah! A scratch. But ’tis enough. Help me to some house, or I shall faint. Aargh! Zounds! A dog, a rat, a cat! To scratch a man to death. They have made been—they may have J worms’ meat of me. A plague both your houses! (laughs)

2 He: Mine is shorter than you.

3 Jhon: Your turn.

4 He: Hi, my name is blah blah blah; I’m doing the line of blah blah blah.

191

5 Jhon: (laughing) Capulet.

6 (He delivers a few of Juliet’s father’s lines, competently but not with Jhon’s degree of expression)

7

Jhon: (with bravado) Hi, my name is Jhon! And I am doing the line of Mercutio. (6.0) Aah! A scratch. ’Tis enough. Help me to some house, or I shall faint. (1.0) Ah!

8 He: =Ah!

9 Jhon: Zounds! A dog.

10 He: A dog.

11 Jhon: A rat.

12 He: =A cat.

13 Jhon: A cat. To scratch a man to death. Ah!

14 He: =Ah.

15 Jhon: They may have worms—they made worms’ meat of me. (He laughs) I cannot say all that line. Plague both your houses!

16 He: Bow!

17 Jhon: How can I bow, I’m dead?

18 He: (laughing) Go down and bow down and die.

19 (Jhon laughs; Rayna arrives and scolds He for sitting)

In this excerpt, we see He, the studious student, barely taking the activity seriously, perhaps

because it is not a traditional academic one; in fact, he is more distracting than helpful to Jhon,

echoing Jhon’s one-line exclamations (ll. 10, 12, 14) for fun rather than checking the script for

the line his partner is having trouble with (“they have made worms’ meat of me”), and sitting

when he should be standing. In contrast, Jhon is giving it his all, languaging to himself about the

line he needs to work on (l. 15). The boys continue with He’s line.

Excerpt 53. Jhon and He Rehearsing (Part 2)

1 He: Hi, my name is (.) blah blah blah—

192

2 Jhon: (annoyed voice) Do it nice::ly!

3 He: Hi, my name is blah blah blah. I’m doing the line of Lord Capulet. And you already know my name so why I even have to say it?

4 Jhon: [The audience.

5 He: [(recites his line)

6 Jhon: Hi, my name is Jhon. And I am doing the line of (.) Mercutio. (6.0) Ah! A scratch! But ’tis enough. (1.0) Help me to some house. I shall faint. Ah!

7 He: =Ah!

8 Jhon: Ah!

9

10

He: = Ah!

(He laughs; Jhon laughs; both laugh)

11

Jhon: Ah! Ugh. Ah! A cat—stop laughing! (5.0) A scratch. ’Tis enough. Help me to some house, or I shall faint. Ah! A dog, a rat, a cat! To scratch a man to death. Ah! (He laughs) They made have worms (2.0) they made—

12 He: Worms’ meat out of me.

13 Jhon: No:: (.) they made worms’ meat of me. They made worms’ meat of me! A plague both your houses.

In this dialogue, it is even clearer that He sees little point in the activity (“You already know my

name so why I even have to say it?”; l. 3), while Jhon reminds him why they should care (“The

audience”; l. 4). The next time Jhon tries to rehearse his line, He is even more distracting, and

soon they are both laughing (l. 10). Jhon tries to continue, interrupting himself momentarily to

tell He to stop (l. 11). Finally, He repeats the line he should have been helping Jhon with (l. 12),

but he gets it wrong due to anticipating a modern, rather than archaic, sentence structure—“made

worms’ meat out of me”—so Jhon has to correct it himself: “made worms’ meat of me” (l. 13).

After this dialogue, Jhon and He each had time to deliver their lines twice more. The

recorder captured Jhon languaging: “I’m gonna check my line. Don’t know that part. (paper

ruffling) Yeah, they have made worms’ meat of me. They have made worms’ meat of me.” As

193

Mr. Nick called the class to attention, he could still be heard repeating the phrase. The

performances went well: no one broke down and students clapped encouragingly for each other.

Jhon gave one of the best performances despite still getting the worms’ meat line slightly wrong.

Jhon’s confidence with Shakespare continued into subsequent lessons, such as the next

week when Juan asked students to get into pairs and act out the scene of Romeo and Juliet’s first

meeting. This can be an awkward scene for 9th graders to perform, as it is a romantic one, and to

reduce the awkwardness as much as possible, Juan put students into same-sex pairs except for

two friends, Eufia and Fetu. When Juan first announced the activity, Kix shouted, “Oh my god!”

while He announced in Hawai‘i Creole, “I like be Benvolio” (even though one could only be

Romeo or Juliet). As the pairs dispersed around the room to rehearse, Jhon, in contrast to Kix

and He, was heard to drawl in an easygoing manner, “Ah::l right. Ah::l right.”

During Kix and Jhon’s performance, Kix stopped when he heard a classmate giggle.

Looking at Juan, he complained, “Mister!” while Fetu said, “Kix, you got this.” As Kix and Jhon

continued, some girls giggled, and so did Jhon. Kix flinched and seemed relieved to step down. It

occurred to me how a simple change in activity could cause a shift in identities from “capable” to

“struggling” student, or from “concentrating” to “lackadaisical” student; how He, for instance,

did not take acting in English seriously, whereas Jhon did, when it was vice versa during literary

analyses in which these two friends worked together. Kix, one of the most academically strong

students in the class, needed to be coaxed and encouraged to perform the romantic scene (even

though he played Romeo), while Jhon took up playing Juliet in that scene as nonchalantly as you

might pick up a sandwich. Even though Jhon did not embrace multilingual translanguaging, he

embraced multimodal and multidialectical translanguaging—being given lines from Shakespeare

and interpreting them through acting. This case shows that it is not only relations between

194

students, but tasks that contribute to academic personae and language preferences, as well as the

models and discourses that are “brought about” through the tasks, as I explain in the next section.

6.4 Translanguaging (Dis)(En)Abled by Available Models and Discourses

While Jhon appeared to be more enabled to (trans)language due to the shift in activity and

modality—dramatic performance versus literary analysis—I argue that this shift was not the only

thing that empowered him in this way. Key to his confidence was the presence of an appropriate

discourse (i.e., artistic work as a legitimate academic activity). I observed a similar case with

Aliah when she wrote a multilingual poem for the class anthology, inspired by Sandra Cisneros’

poem “Abuelito Who”—Cisneros being a Latina author who grew up in the U.S. with a

transnational identity, just like Aliah. This transnational identity is referenced in Aliah’s poem

“Nanang Who” through content and language:

Nanang Who

The text was my ticking bomb clicking

Quick tears streamed down for you

For you, who picked me up with wrinkly

old skinny arms that made me laugh

that I purposely jiggled so you could laugh, too

For you, who made me fine toasted sugary

bread and honey

who joked impolitely to make me happy

whenever I’m gloomy

who walked me to school every day

who I had to help walk across the house

195

For you, who sometimes told me “Haan ka pay mangan, annako

ngamin nag lukmeg kan,” and I responded “Wen, nanang”

but I still ate because food is life. For you, who let me sleep

between Tatang and you, to whom I said “I love you, Nanang Violet.

I’ll see you next year ah, and be careful” and who responded

“Aysus, appo ubbing umay-kayon ah.”

But the next day, the text

makes my heart drop

strikes the heart of every loved one

“She tripped and hit her head on the ground”

In a poem for her grandmother, Aliah saw a purpose for drawing on Ilokano. She used her

heritage language to describe her relationship with her grandmother and to signify those

transnational ties, which are also a theme in Cisneros’ poem.58

As for Jhon, I believe that the model which provided the identity discourses he could

draw upon was Mr. Nick. During the workshop, with 10 minutes left at the end of the period, the

actor entertained the students by delivering some lines himself. They seemed to anticipate this

part of the class, as it was not their first session with him and Ms. Marie. “You want a girl line or

a boy line?” Mr. Nick asked. “A girl line,” one of the girls called out. Mr. Nick asked which

character, and Juan replied, “Nurse!” I recognized the lines Mr. Nick chose to perform—they

come from the part when Juliet’s nurse, huffing and puffing, complains how tired she is

delivering messages between the lovers. In an old woman’s voice and with a Hawai‘i Creole

58 While I would have liked to interview Aliah about why she translanguaged in the anthology but not in class (even though there were those who spoke her HL), she did not consent to participate in that aspect of the study.

196

accent, Mr. Nick cackled: “Now I am so vexed that every part of me quiva:::.” The students

laughed and applauded. Then, like a good coach, Mr. Nick told them to raise their hands (1) if

they thought they had projected loud enough, (2) if they had pronounced well enough, (3) if they

had managed to hit all the gestures they needed to hit, and (4) if they had captured the feeling in

their lines. As different students raised their hands at different times, each student was able to

give an indication of the things they did well. “There’s nothing more but to just practice some

more,” he continued. “Who has brother sister at home? Good. Hands down. Who has little cousin

at home? Good. Hands down. Who has smartphone? Good. Hands down. Who has computer

with video (.) camera on top? Good. Who has a mirror in the bathroom? (2.0) You all should

have one.” He suggested recording yourself with a phone or laptop and then watching it. I

believe he ended the class this way to leave students with a belief in their competence as

performers and the notion that if they really wanted to get good at drama, there was no excuse

not to—they had the resources to do so.

Two aspects of Mr. Nick’s persona are noteworthy. First, at no point did he publicly

correct anyone’s language or pronunciation or give any comments to students as to what they

could do better. Instead, he asked students to think of how they could improve in terms of

specific points to keep in mind, prompting metacognition and languaging, whether aloud or in

one’s head. Second, he illustrated how a male actor could convincingly play a female

Shakespeare character using a Hawai‘i Creole accent, showing students that they, too, could

convincingly play their characters with the right emotions and gestures, in their own accents.59

59 It is also possible that a Pidgin accent is different from speaking on stage in L2 English; Pidgin marks people as belonging, and L2 accents have been stigmatized and othered as “not Hawai‘i.” However, in this case, Mr. Nick’s encouragement and students’ support of each other during the performances shows him enabling, rather than distancing himself from, the students.

197

These dialogues suggest that Juan and Mr. Nick could both weave a discourse of

believing you are capable and taking success into your own hands, yet Kix related to Juan (who

had academic and literary abilities in multiple languages) while Jhon related to Mr. Nick (a local

actor who could effortlessly render Shakespeare in Hawai‘i English). Although English—

different varieties of it mixed seamlessly with each other—was the only language spoken in this

workshop, Mr. Nick’s pedagogy also promoted translanguaging, of the kind Jhon could see

himself doing as someone whose life experiences growing up in Hawai‘i were more similar to

Mr. Nick’s.

Mortimer and Wortham (2015) point out that people eagerly present bi/multilingual

identities when they can draw on existing discourses that favor bi/multilingualism. They

illustrate this in the case of a Paraguayan 6th grader named Manuel, who was highly proficient in

Guarani, his home language, in contrast to his classmates, most of whom spoke Spanish at home.

Manuel was able to claim a positive academic identity because even though Guarani had been

associated with a rural identity, poverty, lack of education, and coarseness, given the Guarani

revitalization movement that began about two decades before, a new kind of Guarani speaker

model was emerging—that of the Guarani-Spanish bilingual academic. Similarly, I argue that the

enabling force allowing Ilokano students in English 9 to draw on their L1/HL in academic work

was the model set by Kix, for whom the model was Juan. When the substitute whose English

was limited was present, Kix did not translanguage much, and as a result, neither did anybody

else. The risk of identifying themselves with an Ilokano L1 teacher who could not understand the

literature in English was likely one reason.

These findings highlight the need to study translanguaging in classrooms using linguistic

ethnography to understand translanguaging dispositions at the individual level and with respect

198

to changing classroom ecologies. Although not every student participated in all aspects of the

study, including interviews that would offer a glimpse into how they evaluated their mono- or

multilingual language use, it appears that English 9 students who shared their thoughts aloud the

most, mono- or bi/multilingually, related to Juan academically if not ethnolinguistically (e.g., He,

Fetu) or both academically and ethnolinguistically (e.g., Kix, Eufia). Jhon, on the other hand,

may have felt alienated by Kix’s adept academic bilingualism after years of subtractive

education.60 Similarly, the Chuukese boys, who came from a culture with predominantly oral

literacy practices, might also have found less of a role model in the teacher who spoke the class’

majority non-English language, Ilokano, and promoted rigorous textual literary analysis.

In the next sections involving Kaori’s class, I discuss the lack of a model for languaging

aloud in English—i.e., a student who could speak his/her thoughts in English without being made

fun of for grammar or accent. This appeared to contribute to avoidance of English with peers for

the purposes of learning, as even Flow-G, the most proficient in English of the Filipino boys, felt

anxiety about his English skills. However, towards the end of the school year the class

atmosphere began to change somewhat, as girls from different language backgrounds and the

student teacher became bolder in their use of English as a lingua franca, with Juliana leading the

way in this due to an interesting turn of events.

6.5 ESL 9/10 Students’ Individual Responses to the Language Questionnaire

As with Juan’s class, individual students’ translanguaging dispositions in ESL 9/10 varied

widely. Table 7 below summarizes the answers of 14 out of 17 students, not including one who

60 In this study, I have been male-centric in my examination of individual students, partly reflecting how boys can verbally dominate in class discussions and also because quite a few female students in English 9 (e.g., Aliah, Rizze, Eufia) did not consent to be interviewed.

199

left the class early in the semester (Binh), one who came towards the end (Ellen), and one with

limited attendance (Simon).

Table 7 ESL 9/10 Students’ Responses to Language Questionnaire61

Student

Frequency of Use

Language(s) Used

Think to Self

Talk Aloud

Write Notes

Use Dictionary

Other

Aaron All the time

Tagalog x

Flow-G Sometimes Tagalog x x x x x (reading)

Ricky Sometimes Ilokano and Tagalog

x x

Cookie Sometimes Ilokano and Tagalog

x (help friend)

Kok Sometimes Tagalog x x (not stated)

Luke Sometimes Tagalog x x (not stated)

Kyrie

Sometimes Tagalog and Ilokano

x

Skusta Sometimes Tagalog, Bisaya, Ilokano

x

Summer

Sometimes x

Juliana Sometimes Ilokano and Tagalog

x

Ruby Sometimes Ilokano

x x x

Mariel Sometimes Ilokano and Tagalog

x x

Jennifer Never

Kaiea

Never

The chart can be broken down into the following individuals/groups for analysis, based on

gender and levels of oral participation: (1) Aaron, Flow-G, and Ricky, the ringleaders among the

61 Filipino students who were Ilokano, the majority in the class and school, wrote “Ilokano and Tagalog” (Ilokano first) or just “Tagalog.” Of the Filipino students who were not Ilokano, Kok wrote only “Tagalog” (no Ilonggo) and Skusta wrote “Tagalog, Bisaya, and Ilokano.”

200

Filipino-speaking boys; (2) Cookie, Kok, Luke, Kyrie, and Skusta, other Filipino-speaking boys,

all of whom were vocal except Kyrie; (3) Summer; (4) the Filipino-speaking girls Juliana, Ruby,

Mariel, and Jennifer, who often sat together, although Ruby was also friends with Cookie, and

(5) Kaiea.

Within the groups, there were individual differences. For instance, of the three

ringleaders among the Filipino boys, only Aaron reported that he used another language “all the

time,” and that his only use of this language was to “talk aloud.” In contrast, Flow-G admitted to

doing every kind of translanguaging, and was the only student in the study who checked all the

boxes. Ricky seemed to play the “good boy,” reporting that he wrote notes and used a dictionary,

but didn’t talk aloud, in Ilokano and Tagalog (though I recorded him speaking these languages

and did not observe him studying much). As I will illustrate using the data that follow, Flow-G

was the true leader of the class—naughty but also able to answer the teacher’s questions in

English, with high trilingual proficiency in English, Filipino, and Ilokano, though use of the last

was limited in this class. Aaron, admired for his athletic ability, had a reputation as a “tough”

boy with Ricky as his sidekick, but their academic confidence did not match Flow-G’s.

Joined by four or five others, they formed the class’ loud majority. But even the follower

Filipino-speaking boys had individual differences. Cookie and Luke were eager to please the

teachers, and Cookie did not ignore the girls. Kok (an Ilonggo speaker, though he only put

“Tagalog” on the questionnaire), seemed to eventually sympathize with Rayna, who tutored his

brother Konan in Korean, even though he only showed this in minor ways like saying “Bye

miss” and “Take care” at the end of class. Kyrie was the only quiet Filipino-speaking boy, and

tried his best. Skusta, the Cebuano-speaking boy who was originally one of the gang of loud

201

Filipino boys, was eventually ostracized. Although I am not certain why, it may have had to do

with his reading challenges, which made him even less proficient in English than the others.

The rest of the chart shows the data for the girls. Summer’s response is odd, as I did not

hear her speak Chinese aloud, or speak much at all, but often saw her writing bilingual notes and

using an electronic dictionary. Ruby and Mariel reported taking bilingual notes and doing

dictionary work, and I saw them use their phones to Google things related to classroom activity.

Indeed, such multimodal communication was used when students could not find the words to

express their thoughts in English. Among the girls, only Jennifer answered that English only was

appropriate for class even with speakers of one’s L1/HL: “I always speak inside the class an

English language and I also talk outside the room a Tagalog language.” As for Kaiea, she

explained: “I never use another language in this class because I don’t have Marshallese classmate

and I think it’s helpful for me to must understand English and know how to speak English.”

6.6 Flow-G and the Loud Filipino Boys

Rayna’s struggles as the ESL 9/10 student teacher were reflected in the loud Filipino boys’

frequently shouting over her and their classmates in Filipino and English. In addition, even

though she supported translanguaging, the lack of English spoken by the Filipino-speaking boys

to each other was concerning in that they did not seem to practice this language enough in

English class, or appear confident to try it out with each other. One morning, I tallied utterances

directed to the class rather than to immediate neighbors throughout the lesson (February 21;

Table 8). Most to all of these utterances came from the loud Filipino-speaking boys:

Table 8 Filipino vs English Talk Fil to Others 73 Fil to Teacher 3 Eng to Others 32 Eng to Teacher 88

202

The trend is clear: about two thirds of public talk is in English (120 versus 76 utterances), yet the

boys’ public talk to each other is in Filipino rather than English about two thirds of the time (73

versus 32 utterances). Thus, the vast majority of English utterances are directed to Rayna—

which I observed left her drained as her attention was commanded by so many students at once.

In addition to this large amount of Filipino talk to the class, which singletons like Kaiea and

Summer could not understand, there was constant chatter to immediate neighbors in Filipino, and

three utterances in Filipino directed to the educational assistant.

Field notes I took during this session included the following observations. First, if the

non-Filipino students did speak, what they said could not be caught above the din. Second,

English statements directed to Rayna struck me as rather rude, and showed little consideration of

the needs of the rest of the class: “MISS! MISS! MISS!” “WHAT IS THIS MISS? WHAT IS

THIS?” “HE’S SEARCHING YOUTUBE MISS! HE’S SEARCHING YOUTUBE!” “MISS,

I’M DONE! I’M DONE MISS!” “MISS, I’M DONE ALREADY! SHARE?”

When I talked to the four Filipino boys who agreed to be interviewed, they gave various

answers as to why they used so much Filipino in class. Together, however, these responses

showed how mirth and camaraderie in Filipino were mixed with English anxiety, and as I began

to suspect how the former compensated for the latter, I also discerned differences in how the

boys dealt with this tension given their positions in the classroom network. I present the

interviews in chronological order here, starting with Cookie’s (January 31):

Excerpt 54. Speaking Filipino in Class (Cookie’s Perspective)

1 Anna: May huling tanong ako sayo.

I have one last question for you.

2 Cookie: Oo miss.

Yes miss.

203

3

Anna: Bakit ang lakas lakas ng mga boses n’yo sa klase? (Cookie laughs) Like ah (.) bakit minsan minsan parang lahat kayo gusto mag ah (.) magsalita hindi na kayo nakikinig sa isat’ isa?

Why are you guys’ voices so loud in class? (Cookie laughs) Like ah (.) why is it sometimes it’s like you all want to ah (.) talk even though you aren’t listening to each other anymore?

4 Cookie: Parang kwan lang man miss, pag nagsasalita kami, para lang maagawan yung attention ng teacher ay (.) ganon.

It’s only like you know miss, when we speak, we talk just to get the teacher’s attention (.) like that.

5 Anna: =Oo nga. Bakit mo ginagawa yon?

=Yeah that’s right. Why are you doing that?

6 Cookie: (snicker) (XXX) yung ganon parang ganon.

(snicker) (XXX) it’s like that kinda like that.

7 Anna: What?

8 Cookie: Yung katabi ko kasi miss, pag nagsasalita miss—umaapaw na din miss.

My neighbor see miss, when he speaks—boiling over already miss.

9 Anna: Oo, pero bakit mo ginagawa yon, bakit parang may kompetensiya kung sinong pwede ah (.) kayang agawin yung attention ng teacher.

Yes, but why are you doing that, why is it like there’s a competition of who can ah (.) is able to catch the teacher’s attention.

10

Cookie: Di ko alam eh miss. Di ko alam. … Parang (.) parang kwan lang miss, yung (.) parang natutul—kung inaantok kami sisigaw ka. Para mawala yung antok mo.

I don’t know miss. I don’t know. … It’s like (.) it’s like miss, like sleep—if you’re sleepy you’ll shout. So your sleepiness goes away.

Cookie gives two humorous explanations for why they talk so loudly: his neighbor is like a kettle

of boiling water (l. 8) and they shout to keep themselves awake (l. 10). Such answers could show

an attempt to lead the researcher “up the garden path” (Jaspers, 2011, p. 1273), but I had to be

satisfied with them. The next week I tried Kok and Skusta, two friends (though Kok later

participated in Skusta’s exclusion) who were interviewed together (February 7).

204

Excerpt 55. Speaking Filipino in Class (Skusta’s and Kok’s Perspectives)

1 Anna: Tinanong ko din to kay Cookie, bakit ang lakas lakas ng mga boses n’yo sa English class?

I was asking this to Cookie too, why are your voices so loud in English class?

2 Skusta: (Pretending to scold Kok) Oo nga e.

(Pretending to scold Kok) That’s right.

3 Kok: Sila po miss.

It’s them miss.

4 Skusta: Sila lang po.

It’s just them.

5 Anna: Sila lang? Sino yung ‘sila’?

It’s just them? Who’s ‘they’?

6 Skusta: Sila Fl— J Cookie.

Fl— J Cookie.

7 Anna: O malakas din kayo.

Hey you guys are loud too.

8 Kok: Hindi.

No.

9

Anna: Bakit minsan naman na (.) a:hhh (.) like ah—nung isang, nung isang klase parang ang, ang, like lahat na lang sumasagot tapos mga sagot parang mga (.) kung ano-ano na lang sinasagot? Like, ‘The moon is round (.) and the sun is square.’ (Kok laughs) Bakit lahat kayo gumaganon, bakit naman?

How come sometimes (.) a:hhh (.) like ah—that one, that one time it was the, the, like everyone was answering and then the answers were like (.) just about everything? Like, ‘The moon is round (.) and the sun is square.’ (Kok laughs) Why do you guys all do that, why?

10

Skusta: Sakin, “because of the gravity of the earth.” (Kok laughs) Ako, doon ako sa science ako pinakamadaldal. At-chaka sa kwan. Math. Doon ako pinakamadaldal.

205

For me, “because of the gravity of the earth.” (Kok laughs) Me, it’s in science that I’m most chatty. And also in what’s-it. Math. There I’m most chatty.

11 Kok: Ano miss (.) patawa lang po.

It’s like miss (.) just for laughs.

12 Sksuta: Oo, patawa lang—

Yes, just for laughs—

13 Anna: Patawa.

Just for laughs.

14 Kok: Para hindi naman boring minsan. Kasi minsan boring.

So it’s not boring sometimes. Because it’s sometimes boring.

15 Skusta: Opo miss.

Yes miss.

Kok and Skusta first claim that it is not they but others who are loud (ll. 3-4), such as Flow-G or

Cooke (l. 6). I contest this (l. 7), and Kok disagrees (l. 8), which leads me to narrate an event as

vividly as I can, struggling a little for the words in Filipino (l. 9), at which point they appear to

remember that they sometimes partake in the clamor themselves, including shouting nonsense

answers to analogies. This leads Skusta to give my “Why?” an idiomatic answer in Filipino

English:62 “Because of the gravity of the earth” (l. 10), which roughly translates into “just

because.” The interview ends with them saying that they do it because they’re a little bored and

want to have a laugh, which could have been what Cookie meant when he said they shout to

keep themselves awake (rendering his answer more reasonable after Kok and Skusta’s

interview). Their teacher, Kaori, did not object to this in one of her own interviews, saying,

“They’re still kids. So sometimes I have to give some leeway (.) to be (.) a kid. You know, I’m

62 I am grateful to Jayson Parba for this information.

206

OK for them to goof around once in a while. But not all the time.” (In Juan’s class, I observed

students could be loud, especially the boys Kix, He, and Fetu, though answers to the teacher’s

questions tended to be earnest, suggesting that the boys in ESL 9/10 were playing with Rayna—

their answers to Kaori’s questions were also often genuine, shout them as they may.)

While Cookie, Kok and Skusta represented “just being kids,” my interview with Flow-G

two weeks later (February 21) suggested there was more to this behavior. By late February I saw

that he was the most bilingually proficient student, also in Kaori’s own assessment: “He has

more language than others too. And other people kind of look up to him.” In my interview with

Flow-G, he acknowledged that no one but the educational assistant used Filipino in ways

relevant to classroom tasks. Later in the interview, I introduced the same issue I had discussed

with the others:

Excerpt 56. Speaking Filipino in Class (Flow-G’s Perspective)

1

Anna: Bakit mo ginagamit ang Tagalog sa English class, kung hindi—hindi—ibig sabihin mo hindi siya para mag-aral? Bakit ganon?

How come you use Tagalog in English class if not—if not—you said it’s not to study? Why like that?

2 Flow-G: Hindi po miss, pag ano po (.) kasi minsan (.) pag English po ako minsan ganon (.) mali po ganon. Mali po. Tapos minsan tatawanan nila ganon.

No miss, if it’s (.) because sometimes (.) if I use English sometimes it’s like (.) it’s like wrong. It’s wrong. Then they laugh like that.

3

Anna: Ahh. So (1.0) I mean (1.0) you’re saying na (2.0) hindi mo kinakausap ang mga kaibigan mo sa Ingles kasi siguro tatawanan (.) [pagtatawanan ka?

Aah. So (1.0) I mean (1.0) you’re saying (2.0) you don’t talk to your friends in English because maybe they laugh (.) will laugh at you?

4 Flow-G: [Yon miss. Pagka magkamali ka miss, ganon.

[That’s it miss. When you make a mistake, like that.

207

5 Anna: Tagalog ginagamit n’yo kasi—hindi kayo, like, hindi ah (.) mahina ang Tagalog.

You guys use Tagalog because—you’re not, like, not ah (.) weak in Tagalog.

6 Flow-G: Opo miss.

Yes miss.

7 Anna: Ganon pala? J

Is that so? J

8 Flow-G: Opo miss. [Tatawa tawa—

Yes miss. [Laughing and laughing—

9 Anna: [Paano mo alam yon?

How do you know that?

10

Flow-G: Nag-gaganon din po kami minsan miss. Naguusap-usap din po kami sa English. Tapos kung may nag-kamali po ganon tatawan-tawanan po ganon.

We do that sometimes miss. Sometimes we’re talking in English too. Then if someone makes a mistake then they laugh at them like that.

11

Anna: … So paano ba sabihin to sa Tagalog—so how do you feel about that? Anong ah—anong ah—

So how do you say this in Tagalog—so how do you feel about that? What’s ah—what’s ah—

12

Flow-G: Nahiya rin miss. Shy. Nahiya rin. Parang ngayon ayaw ko na ulitin ganon.

End up shy too miss. Shy. End up shy. It’s like now I don’t want to do it again.

Flow-G’s explanation for their high levels of Filipino use is straightforward: they use Filipino

with each other to avoid being teased on one’s English (ll. 2-6). Later, I ask him how he knows

this (l. 9), and he explains that they also use English sometimes but make fun of someone who

makes a mistake, and when this has happened to him, he felt too shy to do it again (ll. 10-12). It

is remarkable that Flow-G is the strongest Filipino-English bilingual in the class, and yet he still

208

feels this way. His anxiety appears to arise because the group is not focused on fluency but

native-like accuracy in English, i.e., no matter how perfectly well you can express yourself, if

something is pronounced with an accent or contains a grammatical error, that provides grounds

to make fun of your English. If the main activity in class is to make fun or light of most things,

then it appears the boys are avoiding being the target of humor as well.

While not all students may have agreed with the teasing of their peers’ English, only the

student teacher verbally challenged this activity. At other times, however, she was not able to do

so because it occurred during small group work in Filipino. For example, Aaron and Kok were

sitting next to each other one morning, each with a laptop in front of him as they corrected

grammar in their compositions:

Excerpt 57. Past Tense of “Climb”

1 Aaron: Miss, what is ‘climb’? (2.0) Ow, I mean in the past tense? (2.0) Climbed.

2 Kok: °Past tense, ‘climbed’ ba?°

°Is it the past tense of ‘climbed’?°

3 Aaron: Past tense nang ‘climb.’

Past tense of ‘climb.’

4 Kok: Anong climb?

What climb?

5 Aaron: Climb ED yeah?

6 Kok: Hindi. I-N-G. I-N-G nga. (2.0) >Double-m pala, double m.<

No. I-N-G. I-N-G. (2.0) >Double-m actually, double m.<

7 Skusta: Eh gagi.

Eh jerk.

8 Unknown student:

Ah climbing.

209

9 Aaron: Baliw to!

This crazy ass!

10 Kok: What? (to Rayna) Miss!

While Aaron was on the right track and only sought confirmation that “climb” was a regular

verb, Kok gave him a wrong answer (the ING form), and, as an afterthought (“Double-m pala”

[Double-m actually]; l. 6), took the prank further to see if Aaron would believe the past tense of

“climb” was “climmbing.” Overhearing, Skusta called Kok a jerk (l. 7), and Aaron reacted

roughly (l. 9). I could surmise why the boys were so needy towards their teacher: it was risky to

seek help from peers, due to the chances of having one’s English undermined, which took place

entirely in Filipino and therefore could not be perceived by Kaori and Rayna.

At the end of the study, I believed the “loud Filipino boys” genuinely wanted to learn, as

are many students who are marginalized by standard language regimes at school, which they no

doubt play a part in.63 In the case of the boys in my study, they were often too anxious to

(trans)language in case they ended up being the butt of someone’s joke, and instead used Filipino

to code-switch into unsanctioned activities that allowed them to exercise social power. They

were not inhibited to speak Filipino, being in the class majority and given that their teachers

supported translanguaging, but they could not often think aloud using English in translanguaging

due to the scrutiny applied to their English by their peers.

63 For a discussion of why working-class males from various racial and ethnic backgrounds are especially adverse to adopting “proper” school language since it threatens their masculine identities, see Young (2004) and Willis (1981).

210

6.7 Juliana and the Girls Subtly Challenge the Class Hegemony

By April, the boys’ hegemony began to be challenged due to the confluence of several factors,

including the impact of my own study. I administered the language background questionnaire to

Kaori’s class relatively late in the semester (April 18). When I did so, I did not think it mattered

when it was done, not expecting responses to be shared and contested, or to affect subsequent

language performance. For example, as the students were filling out the questionnaire, one boy

challenged his neighbor’s answer: “Araw-araw ka nagsasalita. ‘Sometimes.’ Ikaw talaga.” [You

‘sometimes’ speak it (your home language). Oh you. You use it everyday.] The educational

assistant told him, “Just mind your own.” Shocked when I heard this, I thought: Do the kids

understand the purpose of my study? Do they think it’s to capture their limitations in English?64

Later, I listened to a recorded dialogue between Juliana, Skusta, and Flow-G:

Excerpt 58. “You Don’t Speak!”

1

Juliana: Anong ilalagay mo sa number two?

What did you write for number two?

2 Skusta: Isusulat mo.

You’ll write.

3 Juliana: Ano?

What?

4 Skusta: Pinili mo ‘Sometimes’ e. Sometimes ka nag I-Inglish?

You picked ‘Sometimes’ eh. Sometimes you speak English?

64 Jaspers (2011) noticed similar student reactions to his ethnography at a secondary school in Antwerp. Remarks Dutch-L2-designated students made to him included: “Are you joining us for drama class? Yeah that’s what you’re interested in, isn’t it? Finding out how well we can speak Dutch” and “Record our Dutch? Nobody here speaks Dutch.” Another student kept on asking when he would start taping them since he could “speak Dutch very well.” Also, the students reacted negatively when Jaspers speculated on a variety he called “Moroccan Dutch.”

211

5 Flow-G: Hind ka nagsasalita! J

You don’t speak! J

6

Skusta: Hindi ka nagsasalita e. J Ah? O, nag-Tatagalog ka lang e. All the time e.

You don’t speak. J Ah? Isn’t it, you only speak Tagalog. All the time.

In this excerpt, Flow-G and Skusta challenge Juliana’s answer “Sometimes,” which is literally

true and face-saving (i.e., if you speak Tagalog very often, as someone who has been in the

school only three months, you can honestly say that you speak it sometimes). Even though the

question asked about use of non-English languages, not English use, in lines 4 and 6 Skusta

interprets Juliana’s checking the box “Sometimes” and writing “Tagalog” to mean that she must

sometimes use English if she sometimes uses Tagalog, assuming that there must be an inverse

relationship between English and the home language. Although one can be a fluent and constant

English user while speaking other languages often, as in the case of Kix, there was no such

bi/multilingual role model in ESL 9/10, and Flow-G aligns with Skusta’s interpretation about the

inverse relationship between languages, agreeing that Juliana speaks Tagalog primarily (l. 5).

From this point on—in fact, starting in the next activity after doing the survey—Juliana

ceased to be a passive supporter of the boys’ hegemony, giggling at their jokes and their teasing

of the teacher, singletons, and each other. Instead, she started to volunteer answers, participating

actively in everything Rayna led them to do, and for the first time there was someone in the class

who was both vocal and serious. Moreover, before long, Juliana and Ruby were translanguaging

in the sense of thinking aloud together (e.g., Excerpt 20). While I do not attribute this change to

the questionnaire on its own, I attribute it to the catalytic conversation between Juliana, Flow-G,

and Skusta.

One effect of Juliana’s increased participation in English was her use of it to invite

singletons like Kaiea to speak during controlled round robin readings. Even though these social

212

moves were minimal, they at least provided some contrast to the typical participation patterns in

the class. For example, when the class was reading a short news article about a law banning cell

phone use while driving (see Juliana and Ruby’s discussion about that article in Excerpt 20,

during which a few friendly words were exchanged with Kaiea even though she was not invited

to deconstruct the article with them), each person could choose the next one to read aloud. It was

in these choices that the Filipino boys’ hegemony was both asserted and challenged—in some

cases, choosing a peer meant encouraging them (e.g., Juliana inviting Kaiea) while in other

cases, it was meant to embarrass them (e.g., Flow-G inviting Skusta):

Excerpt 59. Round Robin Reading

1

Flow-G: Galing si Skusta mag-basa.

Skusta’s a good reader.

2 Rayna: Who wants to be the first reader?

3 Male student: Skusta.

4 Male student: =Skusta.

5 Juliana: Me, miss!

6 Rayna: Juliana::. ’Kay everyone listen carefully. If you don’t listen, you will not know where we are reading.

7 Skusta: OK yeah miss. Listening.

8 (Juliana starts to read. Rayna stops her when she hits key vocabulary, e.g., major, pedestrian.)

9 Juliana: (choosing the next person) Kaiea.

10 (Boys comment as Kaiea is reading: “Walang marinig.” [Can’t hear.] “Make loud.” “I cannot hear miss.”)

11

(Kaiea chooses Cookie to read next. Cookie chooses Juliana’s quiet brother, Kyrie. Kyrie can’t find the place; various people say “Number nine.” Kyrie still cannot find the place; someone says Kok’s name, so Rayna says, “OK Kok.”)

12 Kok: (after reading) Skusta. I mean Flow-G.

213

13 Flow-G: (reads, then chooses Skusta)

14 Skusta: (reads too fast and in a funny voice) “>Missero Caldwell65 said da ba:::n was<

15 (Others burst out laughing)

16 Unknown student:

Ang bilis kasi.

’Cause it’s too fast.

17 Skusta: I can read fast.

18 Rayna: Uh guys (.) we’ve been taking about this. It is not funny to make fun of someone. Everyone is learning English. Is your English better than everyone else? … (to Skusta) ’Kay read one more time, please.

19 Skusta: Mister Caldwell said—

20 Rayna: Make it a little bit slower.

21 Skusta: (clear) Mister Caldwell said the ban was necessary to make people more aware of the (.) dangers of (.) texting well looking—

22 Male student: Well looking. J

23 Skusta: Ah while looking.

24 Rayna: Mm-hm.

25 Skusta: He said (.) ‘We hold the unfortunate dis-distinction J of being—’ (giggles in the background as Skusta reads)

26 Rayna: What does distinction mean?

27 Male student: Difference.

28 Rayna: Next person.

29 Skusta: (to self) °Sino ba po yon?° Summer.

(to self) °Who’s that again?° Summer.

30 (The educational assistant goes over to Summer. She starts to read.)

31 Flow-G: Miss, can you hear?

32 Rayna: OK, you can stop there. Can you repeat one more time, with louder voice, please?

65 Kirk Caldwell, mayor of Honolulu.

214

33 (Summer doesn’t read any louder)

34 Rayna: (in a kind voice) I cannot hear. Louder please.

35 (Summer reads a bit louder)

36 Rayna: OK. Thank you. It was better, thank you Summer. OK next person.

When Rayna announces the round robin reading, the first comments come from Flow-G and two

other Filipino boys, who identify it as a moment to humiliate Skusta (ll. 1-4). Juliana interrupts

them by volunteering to read herself, in a loud and confident voice (l. 5). Rayna welcomes this,

telling everyone to pay attention, with Skusta announcing that he is listening (ll. 6-7). After

reading, Juliana chooses Kaiea (l. 9). While Kaiea is reading, the boys interrupt by complaining

that she is too quiet (l. 10), suggesting that they were already predisposed to do this from the

second she began to read—even though they could instead strain their ears to hear her better.

Eventually, the ball lands in the court of Flow-G, who chooses Skusta (l. 13). Skusta is prepared,

reading in a comical voice that elicits laughter (l. 14). Rayna is also prepared with what to say:

“Uh guys (.) we’ve been taking about this. It is not funny to make fun of someone. Everyone is

learning English. Is your English better than everyone else?” (l. 18). She encourages Skusta to

continue, and his subsequent reading is clear, even though someone picks on the one word he

mispronounced (l. 22), which Skusta immediately corrects (l. 23). Skusta, now having gone

through his trial once again, picks the one reader in the class worse than him (in terms of reading

aloud, that is; Summer is actually a fluent reader in her first language and good at translating into

English, but cannot read aloud well due to having a hearing disability). Flow-G remarks that

Summer cannot be well heard (l. 31), but Rayna encourages her until she raises her voice, then

praises and thanks her (ll. 32-36).

When I discussed this data with Kaori, we agreed that Rayna had become more effective

at helping the quieter students or those who were struggling with reading to hold the floor, above

215

the clamor of the loud Filipino boys. In promoting translanguaging to the class in English and

Filipino, I told Kaori that I felt partly responsible for their behavior. Encouraging

translanguaging without also encouraging English as a lingua franca to include everyone can

result in a class hegemony, which in this case reflected ethnicity and machismo as the loud

Filipino boys spoke over the female student teacher, the girls, the quieter Filipino boys (e.g.,

Kyrie), and the singletons.

6.8 More Research on Translanguaging at the Individual Level?

While translanguaging has become a buzzword in education (Poza, 2017), as it allows learners to

use their whole language repertoires to make sense of their bi/multilingual worlds (García, 2009;

Li, 2017; Otheguy et al., 2015), make meaning across languages (Cummins, 2005; Leonet et al.,

2017; Palmer et al., 2014), and bring their funds of knowledge into the classroom (González et

al., 2005; Martin-Jones & Saxena, 2003), it remains under-theorized at the individual level.

There is still not much known about the indexicalities, or social meanings, of codes that are used

for individual identity positioning and the negotiation of opportunities to learn (Martin-Jones &

Heller, 1996). Much literature on translanguaging evokes its naturalness in the world beyond the

classroom, then shows what teachers can do to harness its power; however, as Creese and

Blackledge (2010) point out, “Further research is needed on classroom language ecologies to

show how and why pedagogic bilingual practices [or student-initiated bi/multilingual practices]

come to be legitimated and accepted by participants” (p. 113).

Filling this gap to some extent, this study suggests that translanguaging in an English-

medium classroom is differentially experienced by L1-dominant newcomers and English-

dominant resident multilinguals who are designated ELLs, while minority students and

singletons also have unique experiences. L1-dominant newcomers need bilingual role models

216

(peers or teachers) who are academically fluent L2 users of English, perhaps from the same

ethnolinguistic background (as with Kix and Juan) to show them what they can achieve. Given

that the identity of not being a fully legitimate speaker of one’s HL can be as much a source of

mockery and humor as the ESL/ELL identity, English-dominant resident multilinguals may seek

as models authors who can help them explore transnational bi/multilingualism (as with Aliah and

Cisneros) or performers who legitimize local dialects for academic purposes (as with Jhon and

Mr. Nick). Singletons and linguistic minority students need to feel that their languages are

valuable too, even though few to no classmates might understand them (see He’s decision to sign

a “limited edition” copy of the class poetry anthology in Chinese in Chapter 5).

In addition, since translanguaging involves using one’s entire linguistic repertoire,

including English, to make meaning and articulate one’s thinking to others, students will not be

able to translanguage unless they feel confidence as English as a lingua franca users, besides

being told that their L1s/HLs can be used in class to learn. While Rayna encouraged

translanguaging, she often asked students to check for errors, which often had to do with usage

(e.g., articles, prepositions) rather than more general grammar principles that they could study

with more confidence (e.g., what different tenses, modals, or sentence structures can be used

for). Having to correct minute errors on their own and lacking the proficiency to do so, in the 25

minutes of activity during which I did the Filipino-versus-English tallying (which was also the

time when Kok tried to mislead Aaron regarding the past tense of “climb”), likely contributed to

the feelings of English anxiety already fostered by wider social discourses.

Thus, it is vital for student teachers to observe experienced educators in mitigating the

tensions around “standard English” that hinder (trans)languaging. For example, in the dialogue

below, Juan showed Kix how to correct Aliah’s grammar during a class discussion on Flight:

217

Excerpt 60. “He’s Trying to Clarify. Not Trying to Judge You…”

1 Juan: OK, Aliah has a question.

2 Aliah: You know Gus—why does he want revenge on the little girl, is that like the daughter or something?

3 Kix: Revenge—on the little girl or for the little girl?

4 Aliah: (recognizing her error) For the little girl.

5 Juan: Is that a judgment? [Or is—

6 Kix: [No, that was a question.

7 Juan: He’s trying to clarify. Not trying to judge you, use a preposition—so why does Gus want to seek revenge for the little girl that was shot with three arrows in her belly while she was reaching for her mom? Could that be his family?

8 Fetu: Might be.

While Juan suggests that the preposition is important, the statement “He’s trying to clarify. Not

trying to judge you” (l. 7) lets both students save face, and the discussion quickly moves on.

When I showed this dialogue to teachers at the school during a professional development

workshop, one teacher noted that Juan was creating a positive feedback loop for Aliah,

encouraging her to keep asking questions. Had her preposition use been shot down at this

moment, it would have created a negative feedback loop, dampening her individual disposition

to (trans)language. Since Aliah leaned towards English monolingualism in her speech (for better

or worse), it was all the more important to foster her confidence to language aloud in English.

One more issue is worth exploring before the study moves to its conclusion, and that is

the nature of reciprocal relations between individuals in the classroom ecology, or feedback

loops (Rampton, 2006). While individual behaviors may be in direct contrast, this does not

necessarily mean that these behaviors challenge one another; contrasting behaviors often

reinforce each other. For example, Kix’ bilingual language brokering for Aliah, while

pedagogically useful, might also have reinforced her subordinate role as she wrote down the

218

interpretations of literary works that he explained to her (Excerpt 23); at the end of the study,

Juan was still waiting for her to provide her own ideas in written reflections rather than simply

noting what was talked about in class (personal communication). In Talmy (2008), the students

positioned as “FOBs” actually did better than “Lifers” grade-wise, though no students did

particularly well—suggesting that quiet students took it upon themselves to try hard and surpass

the loud ones in terms of grades, while loud students compensated for lack of academic skills by

being outspoken in class (see similar findings in Duff, 2002). Fordham (1993) discusses how the

identities of “loud student” and “quiet student” each came with their own advantages and

disadvantages in a study of African-American high school girls: being loud allowed one to push

the limits of a culturally oppressive curriculum while being just within the bounds of acceptable

behavior (e.g., riling teachers with very active participation, and calling out over other students,

and occasionally teachers as well, while not always responding on topic); in contrast, being quiet

and working hard led to a better academic record but alienation from peers and also from the

marginalized ethnolinguistic community, as it symbolized an uptake of the oppressor’s social

discourses and behaviors.

In this study, Kaori noted: “…truth is, those students, who don’t use the majority, you

know, Filipino language? They speak—they can kinda improve their English skills faster”

(Interview 1, February 28). Her statement and the empirical findings of this study suggest that

singletons such as He and Fetu in English 9, or Kaiea and Summer in ESL 9/10, tended to speak

English only because they were not in the ethnolinguistic majority. Lacking a support structure

given the school norm—i.e., the ethnolinguistic community mentioned by both Juliana and

Flow-G, at least within the context of each class—English-speaking teachers provided these

singletons’ best language support, protecting them from the linguistic majority, while Filipino

219

students reported being welcome as newcomers (which I documented with the bilingual

academic and social support offered to Diana in English 9). Rampton’s (2006) observation that

more and less dominant students and their teachers became complicit in an order that allows

“teachers and pupil[s] [to] actually manage to get by in their everyday lives” (p. 88) is likely

found across many other classroom settings—as whatever a school’s socioeconomic or

ethnolinguistic diversity, there will be more and less dominant students who are so due to

classroom ecologies, role models, and discourses made available through contextualization. This

has implications for understanding which individuals might be more or less willing to speak their

thoughts aloud, inviting others to do the same, and in what language(s). Such implications, in

turn, yield further implications for (1) theorizing the relationship between multilingualism and

classroom equity in more complex ways than simply yoking together social justice and

translanguaging as both pedagogical practice and theory of language (Jaspers, 2018), and (2)

generating good classroom management practices, which will be the focus of the dissertation’s

final chapter.

220

CHAPTER 7

CONCLUSION

7.1 The Research Gap This Study Has Addressed

Linguistically diverse societies have existed throughout history, but national linguistic diversity

has accelerated since the early 21st century due to globalizing forces (Appadurai, 1996). The

range of bi/multilingual pedagogy in K-12 education reflects these social trends. In addition to

traditional bi- or trilingual programs that seek to foster parallel competencies in multiple

languages, there are deliberate efforts to incorporate multilingual resources into “mainstream”

education in the official societal language (e.g., Hélot & Young, 2005; Higgins & Ponte, 2017;

Lotherington, 2013). However, this study has attended to a research gap by asking what students

do when they are invited, but not required, to use their entire language repertoires to learn in an

English-medium class, which I have called “laissez faire translanguaging.” I used linguistic

ethnography to document and analyze how language hegemonies are constructed and contested

by individuals, in unfolding interaction, to create or deny “translanguaging spaces” (Li, 2017).

My findings suggest that individuals and communities are indeed plurilingual, in that

languages do not form distinct competencies but an integrated repertoire or set of pragmatic

resources. Languages mix with each other in cognition and communication, and not all of the

languages a person speaks are acquired to full fluency and in every domain, which would be

redundant, as suggested by theories of plurilingualism (Council of Europe, 2001; Galante, 2018;

Piccardo, 2018). The monolingual native speaker is no longer a taken-for-granted target

(Dewaele, 2018; Grosjean, 1989), as the unique plurilingualism of each individual—even so-

called “monolinguals” are plurilingual to some degree—reflects their background, prior language

learning experiences, and life journey, in which there is no beginning nor end to the language

221

shifts caused by changing needs and circumstances (Blommaert & Backus, 2013; Piccardo,

2013; Wandruszka, 1979). Nevertheless, the universality of plurilingualism does not mean

people draw on their entire language repertoires in every interaction. Certain resources can be

filtered out, for questionable reasons (e.g., monolingual ideology) or understandable ones—such

as using the most commonly shared language spoken by the group (Bonacina-Pugh, 2012). In

addition, the ways a person translanguages reflect how language resources are distributed within

that person’s repertoire. Integrated it may be, yet linguistic resources are asymmetrically

distributed across different skills (receptive, productive, oral, textual—not to mention the

innumerable forms of oral and textual literacies) and domains (family, community, school, and

peer group, due to the ways of speaking and sociocultural practices learned in various domains).

Thus, just because individuals, communities and societies are plurilingual does not mean that

specific languages do not come into play in pragmatics and identity positioning, nor that these

social phenomena and the domains of language acquisition can be disregarded by educators.

Leading proponents of translanguaging (e.g., García & Li, 2014; Li, 2017) have claimed

that translanguaging is an instinctive human behavior that is suppressed by the structures of

formal education to the detriment of students, and that allowing translanguaging leads to greater

affordances for social justice (García & Otheguy, 2020). While dynamic translanguaging has

been shown to move forward bilingual education in the U.S. and heritage language education in

the U.K. (Creese & Blackledge, 2011; García, 2009; Li, 2014), it is not the answer in every

context because in some contexts, students’ dynamic bi/multilingualism needs to be liberated,

whereas in other contexts not all students are accustomed to using their languages so

dynamically (Mendoza & Parba, 2018). To illustrate, I turn to the work of psycholinguist D. W.

Green, with whom Li Wei has collaborated. Green (e.g., Green & Abutalebi, 2013, 2016; Green

222

& Li, 2014) points to different modes in which bilinguals can function: (1) a monolingual mode,

(2) a dual language mode in which switching between languages often occurs, but in terms of

one language at a time, and (3) a dense code-switching mode in which speakers routinely

interleave languages by taking lexical items in one language and transforming them according to

the morphosyntactic rules of the other, as in “…ipagdadrive pa kita!” (Green & Abutalebi, 2013,

p. 518), or as in Li’s (2017) documentation of “new Chinglish” terms such as “niubility,”

“geilivable,” “don’train,” and “You ask me, me ask who?” (pp. 4-5). Interestingly, classroom

research on Latinx students shows them operating in both the dual language or dense code-

switching modes, on some occasions both in the same conversation (e.g., Durán & Palmer, 2014;

Palmer et al., 2014; Sayer, 2013), which points to the need to acknowledge variability in their

translanguaging practices. In my study, participants primarily operated in the dual language

mode to translanguage-to-learn or simply to “do ridiculous” (Jaspers, 2011), suggesting that

using English and Ilokano/Filipino together in a classroom is something they took up given the

affordances of the context, but have likely not been used to doing prior to that (see Juan’s

comments in Excerpt 51).66 There were also long-term U.S. resident multilingual students in my

study who avoided translanguaging altogether in oral classroom interactions—unlike the students

who appear in most of the research that portrays translanguaging as coming naturally (e.g.,

speakers of Spanish and Chinese languages). It is important to note that Spanish in the U.S. and

Mandarin in Inner Circle English-speaking countries (Kachru, 1986) have cultural prestige, some

66 It is possible that I missed “new Filipino/Ilokano” terms due to lack of linguistic or cultural knowledge, but any such terms would have been remarked by my Ilokano translator. In any case, the transcripts make it clear that most translanguaging is the dual language kind. In the Philippines, lexical items resembling a “new Filipino” have been documented among university-aged Manila elites (Reyes, 2017), but the extent to which this reflects regional and class distinctions needs to be further examined—and the same goes for speakers of “new Chinglish.”

223

institutional support in K-12 and higher education, and materials for developing heritage

language literacy. The dense code-switching Li (2017) points to among “instinctive”

translanguagers requires proficiency in both/all languages used (Auer, as cited in Hoffman &

Stavans, 2007, p. 57-58), and cannot be performed by students whose heritage language attrition

is so severe, due to the stigmatization of their languages and their guardians’ choice not to speak

to them in these languages, that their proficiency is receptive only, save for when they punctuate

their speech with words in their heritage languages to stylize themselves as legitimate members

of their communities (e.g., Canagarajah, 2012). In sum, we translanguage in the mulitilingual,

multidialectical, and/or multimodal ways we have learnt to translanguage in recurring social

contexts (Green & Abutalebi, 2013).

This study on laissez faire translanguaging in two high school English classes involved

unusual participant demographics, in that native English speakers of White Anglo descent were

absent. The researcher passes for a native speaker in English, her dominant L2, and speaks her

heritage language and an additional language at an intermediate level. The participating teachers

are academically fluent multilingual English users who have lived in the U.S. for at least a

decade and have academic proficiency in one or two additional languages. The students are all

multilinguals, mostly newcomers and Generation 1.5, the majority from the Philippines and the

minority from Micronesia—both of which are far more linguistically diverse than the U.S.—with

singletons from China, the Marshall Islands, Samoa, and Vietnam. The study investigated how

students translanguaged in two English classes, with attention to linguistic majority/minority

relations and individual differences in investment in different communities of language users. Its

key finding, in one sentence, is this:

224

Because a positive identity positioning by one participant (through translanguaging or

monolingualism) can create a negative positioning for another, intentional or not, people

must carefully navigate any conflicts and threats to face arising from their language

choices (Chapter 1, p. 22).

This finding calls into question the assumption that translanguaging, in and of itself, leads to

greater affordances for social justice in a classroom where instruction is officially in one

language only, if students come from different language backgrounds, and students from the

same language background have varying levels of proficiency in their languages. Ilokano

newcomers’ adept translanguaging in Juan’s English 9 class seems to have made Jhon less rather

than more comfortable to translanguage, as he had undergone subtractive bilingualism due to

having grown up mainly in the U.S., leading him and Fetu, the singleton from Samoa, to support

a “speak English” classroom policy that offered them more authoritative linguistic identity

positionings. In ESL 9/10, the more freely the linguistic majority students translanguaged, thus

displaying their language being in the majority, the more inhibited linguistic minority students

seemed to become (see Kaori’s comment on p. 95), preventing them not only from

translanguaging but from speaking out altogether. Thus, it is essential to examine what students

do under a laissez faire language policy, without assuming that it will “naturally” be

translanguaging for everyone, in order to theorize what classroom language policies and

practices will lead to greater affordances for social justice within a particular classroom ecology.

To that end, I revisit my study’s main findings and their practical implications.

7.2 Summary of Findings

To address the first research question, “How do students use their languages orally in high school

English classes where teachers permit non-English languages but do not teach them?”, various

225

types of mixed language use were found in both classrooms. Academic and social

translanguaging seemed most frequent, but code-switching, stylization and language-crossing

were also present. Ludic examples of all of these were noted but relatively rare, perhaps

reflecting the formal educational setting. However, since all types of mixed language use were

not difficult to find in the data, they all play a role in the social life of the class. There is thus no

need for a disciplinary turn (Poza, 2017) promoting investigation of any one over the others. In

fact, to get a full picture of classroom life, it is perhaps best to investigate them together, and

linguistic ethnography is one method that allows for this.

On the other hand, some types of mixed language use did not seem to emerge just

because a laissez faire translanguaging policy was in place. Development of metalinguistic

awareness, such as how parts of speech, form-function mappings, and different registers

transferred perfectly or imperfectly across languages, did not seem to occur without intervention

(assuming students had this metalinguistic awareness in their L1s). In addition, I believe that

explicit discussions to foster critical language awareness, with cross-linguistic examples (such as

where accents come from, or why monolingual native speakers should not be the benchmark for

bi/multilinguals), are needed to divest students of myths equating language purity with

intelligence or academic competence.

While linguistic majority/minority relations deserve further research attention, this study

has yielded some interesting findings to complement those of Allard et al. (2019) and Malsbary

(2013). First, “culturally relevant curricula” are not likely to be a panacea for linguistic

hegemony, even though much educational research tends to imply that including students’ funds

of knowledge in the curriculum, or having a diverse representation of cultural knowledges,

encourages participation from linguistically and culturally minoritized students. Neither English

226

class had any White Anglo students, and both classes featured works by White Anglo-American,

African-American, Asian-American, Native American, Latinx and Pacific Islander/Hawaiian

authors and diverse visiting artists, but still the majority linguistic group in each class talked the

most. At times, they even talked more than the linguistic minority students when the topics under

discussion reflected the minority students’ culture(s) (Duff, 2002) or a culture the class was

unfamiliar with (e.g., studying Hōkūleʻa in ESL 9/10). While one might argue that verbal

dominance is just a tendency of adolescent boys, it does not explain the Filipino students’ (both

boys’ and girls’) more active participation in the the Socratic discussion about Jetnil-Kijiner’s

poem in English 9 (pp. 159-160). Notably, the linguistic minority students also let the linguistic

majority students talk. This reflects the ways in which linguistic hegemony is co-constructed in

interaction as material is being taught. Clearly, more needs to be done above and beyond

exposing students to a wide range of literatures and cultures, in that classroom management and

“teacher talk” should actively create equitable spaces for discussion. Also, linguistic majority

students should be aware of the hegemony they hold in the class (even if they are marginalized in

other social contexts, such as the wider society), and all students need to take responsibility for

dismantling classroom hegemonies no matter what their place in them.

In terms of languages used for interaction, researchers can show how students negotiate

meaning and speaking turns, which might happen primarily in the official classroom language

through lingua franca dispositions (Friedrich & Matsuda, 2010; Matsumoto, 2018) just as often

as it could occur through translanguaging. It is therefore important to cultivate students’

confidence to do languaging in the official classroom language as well as in their L1s/HLs and

other languages. The qualitative data in this study has shown a direct relationship between

majority language students’ confidence as English as a Lingua Franca users and their positive

227

treatment of students who were more linguistically vulnerable, such as newcomers and

classroom linguistic minorities, leading to a willingness to make space for those with other

L1s/HLs. Due to these findings, the relationship between plurilingual dispositions and ELF

dispositions needs to be further investigated.

Moreover, translanguaging at the individual level needs to be researched more. Dominant

theories of translanguaging in education, which focus on integrated repertoires and

ethnolinguistic groups’ funds of knowledge, draw attention away from the social indexicalities of

codes (whether or not they are part of one’s heritage) and hence from important classroom

phenomena related to code-switching (Lin, 2013), self- and -other stylization (Chun, 2009), and

language crossing (Rampton, 2011a, 2011b). Individual differences between students in the two

classes suggest that a laissez faire classroom language policy positions students in the majority

language group (L1-dominant newcomers versus English-dominant resident multilinguals)

differently, while classroom minority students and singletons also have unique positionalities

that shift from lesson to lesson, activity to activity. In other words, different students (e.g., Kix,

Jhon, Aliah, He) need models of their own plurilingualism to be encouraged to translanguage in

the ways that they can most relate to—multilingually, multimodally, or multidialectically, in oral

conversation or literary code-meshing or stylization (Canagarajah, 2011a, 2011b).

When it comes to oral interactions, individual language practices lead to reciprocal

relations and feedback loops: mutually enforcing roles that people seem to naturally fall into,

given the day-to-day business of teaching and learning. In fact, figuring out such roles in ways

that work well enough for everyone involves collective interpersonal finesse and ingenuity

(Rampton, 2006). Such roles can include language brokers and recipients of language assistance,

ethnolinguistically similar students who work together bilingually while others form pan-ethnic

228

groups who mainly use ELF, and “active-but-joking” versus “quiet-but-serious” students.

Students’ linguistic and interactional choices as they make bids for positive identity positions

(e.g., trilingually fluent Kix and monolingual “native speaker” Jhon) can reinforce language

boundaries. Even if the worst of these effects are averted, they cannot be obliterated, being a fact

of social life. Thus, no classroom language policy, not even a plurilingual/translingual one, can

dismantle some of the forms of linguistic inequality in the larger society (Jaspers, 2018). Even if

a society’s language hegemonies are overturned, the same social practices of adequation and

distinction continue to occur with different languages.67 At the same time, the classroom can be a

place where teachers and students can “chip away” at social language attitudes. Future teachers

and policy makers are developing their perspectives as current elementary and high school

students, in an apprenticeship of observation (Lortie, 1975). Thus, current teachers can try to

foster classrooms where all class members recognize the need to take up equal responsibility

when working across asymmetries in linguistic and cultural knowledge, to increase the chance

that students will take up plurilingual and lingua franca dispositions in the future. Teachers can

also push students to go beyond their comfort zones—getting those whose L1s/HLs have been

silenced to translanguage more, while encouraging linguistic majority students to practice their

lingua franca skills with minority students and each other.

7.3 Pedagogical Implications

The findings of this study were shared with educational stakeholders at the annual conference of

the National Council of Teachers of English (Mendoza, 2019), a roundtable at Juan’s and Kaori’s

school repeated over four periods in the same day, a workshop at the Hawai‘i Department of

67 Jaspers (2011) showed how Dutch, once a marginalized language in Flanders (in that Dutch speakers did not have the same access to social mobility as French speakers), became the dominant language, with standard Dutch coming to be associated with jingoism.

229

Education Multillingualism and Arts Symposium (Mendoza, 2020), and other local conferences.

In those presentations, I addressed two practical questions: first, why is a translanguaging

pedagogy for the English-medium classroom needed? Second, what would it look like?

Translanguaging theory in education originated with the teacher’s pedagogical code-

switching in Welsh heritage language education (Williams, 1994) and expanded to encompass

bilingual and heritage language education for immigrant students (e.g., Creese & Blackledge,

2010; García, 2009; Li, 2014). A key feature of the bilingual or heritage language classroom is

that developing a bi/multilingual repertoire is not only encouraged; it is mandatory and the

curriculum is designed around this goal. In a “mainstream” classroom where the curriculum

provides little to no input in languages other than the language of instruction, translanguaging,

even if encouraged by the teacher, necessarily has a different indexicality, or social meaning,

than it does in the bilingual or heritage language classroom. Mainstream teachers who support

translanguaging are not trying to implement a developmental bilingual program for all their

students, not when 60% of students speak Language A at home, 30% of students speak Language

B, and 10% are singletons who are the only speakers of their home languages—with non-

speakers of Language A not principally there to learn Language A (save for instances of

affiliative language crossing in a particularly cohesive class). Teachers in English-dominant

countries must therefore focus on fostering plurilingual, English as a Lingua Franca classrooms.

In these classrooms, all students must be encouraged to use their whole linguistic repertoires to

learn and navigate the social life of the class, using as a language of instruction, to learn

disciplinary content, the societally dominant language according to lingua franca norms—that is,

students must own it and develop it (e.g., Horner, Lu, Royster, & Trimbur, 2011) so that it

indexes intercultural dispositions rather than English anxiety.

230

Now, I discuss how translanguaging in the English-medium classroom comes with

challenges not often found in bilingual and heritage language education, necessitating a different

approach to translanguaging pedagogy. These challenges include the teacher’s cultural outsider

positionality, the vulnerability of classroom ethnolinguistic minorities, and individuals’ anxiety

about their performance in English.

In bilingual and heritage language education, the teacher is usually a member of the

community that speaks the language. On the other hand, most “mainstream” K-12 teachers in the

U.S. are White, middle-class women who speak English as L1, reflecting cultural and class

dominance, and the development of teaching into a profession in which caring and compassion

are bound up with policing language and manners. In Hawai‘i, most teachers and principals are

Japanese-American, again reflecting cultural and class dominance.68 And in every part of every

country, it is not an uncommon thing to find teachers who are from a different culture and social

class from their students, because those who tend to become teachers tend to be those who

enjoyed school, because the system treated them well. Thus, the majority of teachers being from

middle-class dominant cultural groups poses a linguistic challenge when such teachers work at

schools where most students are from marginalized groups—particularly if the teachers are

young and temporary (e.g., on practicum), because their well-intentioned initiatives to bring

students’ linguistic and cultural capital into the classroom may misfire (e.g., the Filipino boys’

hegemony in Rayna’s class). Pre-service teachers must be aware that laissez faire

translanguaging should be accompanied by classroom management decisions that foster

68 In the 1950s and 1960s, the Japanese-led Democratic party gained ascendancy over the White-led Republican party in the state legislature, making Hawai‘i the only U.S. state where Whites are politically not the dominant racial group. In Hawai‘i, Japanese-Americans occupy many positions in the legislature, the Department of Education, and white-collar jobs (Fujikane & Okamura, 2008).

231

inclusive participation patterns in different languages and students’ confidence as collective

owners of the official classroom language as a lingua franca, otherwise a flexible language

policy may result in the teacher losing control of the class and, chagrined, turning to a target

language only policy from then on.

Additionally, there is the issue of language minorities and singletons. In bilingual and

heritage language education, non-heritage learners, even if they are in the minority, may have an

exalted status as they “grace” the heritage language by adding value to it (Mendoza & Parba,

2018). Also, in this context, the teacher addressing the whole class in English-plus-another-

language is socially unremarkable, no more than expected, but in K-12 classrooms in the U.S.

and other Inner Circle English-speaking countries (Kachru, 1986) where instruction is officially

in English, this action is socially remarkable in two ways: it puts another language on equal

footing with English (a good thing) yet puts English and the majority group’s language above

other languages students speak (a questionable thing). In the English-medium classroom, the

teacher cannot use a non-English language without making some sort of implicit political

statement—which, in many cases, he/she/they should be doing anyway, as translanguaging

should not just be focused on getting students to learn effectively but be linked to transformative

pedagogy (García & Kleifgen, 2010; García & Li, 2014; Poza, 2017). But what is empowering

for one student could be discomfiting for another, as students’ needs sometimes conflict. The

point is not whether classrooms should be plurilingual, but how languages can be used to index

inclusivity and social responsibility, rather than exclusivity and disregard for others’ needs.

“Letting students bring their languages into the class,” “speaking English so everyone can

understand,” “doing multilingual things to celebrate diversity”—as this study shows, none of

these necessarily entail equity without examination of people’s intentions, or how identity

232

positioning occurs during the process and develops over time. Students can translanguage-to-

learn to think only to themselves (Excerpt 48) or to include others (Excerpt 20); they can perform

ludic translanguaging as rapport building (Excerpt 26) or bullying (Excerpt 28); they can do

pragmatic code-switching to include (Excerpt 45) or exclude (Excerpt 36), and they can use

stylized speech for positive (Excerpt 32) or negative (Excerpts 30 and 31) ends. In other words,

there is nothing inherently more “socially just” about the deployment of an integrated language

repertoire over the deployment of distinct languages. However, encouraging plurilingual and

lingua franca dispositions leads language practices to be channeled in the right directions.

A third challenge with encouraging translanguaging in officially English-medium

classrooms is that students are likely to be particularly anxious about English because that is the

language being taught. This raises the issue of fractal recursivity among ESL students (Talmy,

2008), or the tendency to position yourself as a competent English user by putting down others’

English use (see Kaori’s attempt to address this in Excerpt 41). People who support the struggles

of marginalized groups do not like to talk about fractal recursivity, but it has to be acknowledged

as a part of human nature so that educators can adequately address it and guard against it. This is

not to say that students do not experience anxiety about other languages in English class; in this

study, I documented teasing with regard to performance in both English and heritage languages

(Excerpts 30, 31, and 56). Therefore, the teacher’s job is not only to legitimize multilingualism

(languages as resources) but legitimize plurilingualism (the notion that language repertoires are

always in evolution and never finished, reflecting the sum of people’s life experiences and

currently developing communicative needs). To do this, teachers need strategies gained through

teacher education, and a commitment to teaching using plurilingualism and ELF as resources.

233

Concretely, what would this look like? I end this sub-section with a description of a study

by Woodley and Brown (2016) that blended ethnography and action research and was cited early

in this dissertation (p. 3) as an initiative that sought to incorporate bi/multilingual pedagogy into

“mainstream” K-12 education in a country’s official language. It begins:

Eight home languages. Twenty-seven students. Twenty-seven levels of English language

development, home language literacy, and content knowledge. One room. One teacher.

This is the reality of Andrew Brown’s 5th-grade class. (p. 83)

Brown taught at an elementary school in Queens, New York, where 72% of students were free-

lunch eligible. The school was 48% Hispanic and 43% White, but had embraced a multilingual

ecology, with a front hall display saying “Welcome!” in 17 languages, and flags representing the

28 home countries of students. In Mr. Brown’s classroom, where there were also struggling

English monolingual students, all of the students’ languages were recognized:

These languages are vividly displayed in the classroom’s multilingual ecology on walls,

signs, labels, on the interactive whiteboard, and in notebooks of students. Different

languages are used to varying extents in the room, depending on the needs, desires, and

abilities of individual students. English, Spanish, Arabic and Polish… reflect the most

common home languages of the students, while Ukrainian is also heard. This multilingual

ecology is created with the support of translation technology, students, families, and

teachers and school staff, all providing written support to display the different languages.

(p. 83)

When Mr. Brown planned a lesson, the central question would be presented in the four main

languages on the interactive whiteboard. He also drew on multimodal resources, such as visuals,

to help students understand meaning. For example, during the slavery unit, he showed them a

234

picture of a plantation and asked them to translate the word “plantation” into Spanish, Arabic and

Polish and say these words aloud for the class. (For some students, the word was new in their

home languages too, which let them continue developing these languages to some extent.) Next,

Mr. Brown took a poll to see who had heard the word “swamp” before, and asked students to

describe it to their peers; one student who said he didn’t get it received a description in mixed

Arabic and English. After this, the student nodded and smiled, having learned the word in both

languages. Mr. Brown then presented this line, translated into English, Spanish, Arabic and

Polish, on the interactive whiteboard:

That was until they caught sight of the African men and women slaves whose raggedy

clothes, sad faces, and smelly bodies revealed the ugly truth that this was no heaven at

all. (Nelson, as cited in Woodley & Brown, 2016, p. 89)

Students were then given the job of checking the teacher’s translations, which he had come up

with using an online translator. Spanish speakers pointed out that there was no direct translation

of “raggedy,” giving several synonyms close in meaning, while one girl thought a phrasal

expression was more accurate. Mr. Brown closed that conversation by observing that there were

many ways to say the same thing in Spanish, and one person’s translation might differ from

someone else’s. He then asked students to brainstorm other situations they thought were unfair.

A girl from Ukraine mentioned the corruption of the current Ukrainian administration, which

was on the news at that time, while a Yemeni student brought up Palestine after a think-pair-

share discussion with a peer in Arabic. (Woodley described seeing a continuous back-and-forth

between whole class discussions and small group work, allowing for home language

clarification.) Mr. Brown wrapped up the lesson by saying, “Keep bringing in these great

examples from all that you already know” (p. 91).

235

Discussing the benefits for the class, Woodley notes that English monolingual students

were also able to deploy all their linguistic resources, not only those that had been legitimated at

school, and they soon became advocates for their bi/multilingual peers. Students, teacher, and

technology helped to incorporate newcomers quickly into the class community; diversity became

the basis of solidarity rather than causing riffs among groups of students, and students gained

both metalinguistic awareness (e.g., how to translate, what did not translate across languages,

and tradeoffs in translation) and greater sociopolitical and historical understandings—including

better access to the topic of slavery, which was a part of U.S. history that was culturally new to

them. Mr. Brown also recalled how students took note of different ways to say things in Spanish

and Arabic, highlighting the linguistic diversity of these language diasporas; he also invited them

to think about how ways of speaking a language differed across generations and individuals.

In a statement by Mr. Brown—who did not speak any language apart from English to any

great degree—at the end of Woodley’s article, the teacher highlighted the importance of letting

students “own” the words they used in the many languages the class knew:

This [translanguaging] has opened doors for all students to really be a part of class, and

for students to learn from each other in new ways using language to start some really

important conversations about culture. And in these conversations, the students have led

the way. (p. 98)

While this was an elementary school class, the discipline-specific knowledge students were

acquiring suggests that translanguaging pedagogy is feasible across the curriculum in secondary

school—without the need for a school to be particularly well resourced, or for the teacher to be

bi/multilingual, and even if there are numerous languages represented in a class with highly

uneven distributions.

236

7.4 Study Limitations and Future Research Directions

This study is limited in at least several ways. First, it must be noted that I visited each class on

the same day each week, observing roughly 20% of the lessons between January and May.

Coming on Thursdays may have led to sampling bias, as I tended to observe mid-week activities.

I also did not collect nearly as much interview data as I had originally planned because of the

relatively low number of students who agreed to be interviewed one-on-one, in fact no more than

five hours of conversations during lunch breaks to ask participants about moments in the data

that were interesting. More comprehensive and systematic data collection in this area could have

allowed me to observe longitudinal patterns of language socialization or resistance to it. Even the

60–70 hours of classroom talk I collected in both classes cannot compare to the number of hours

in other school-based ethnographies. I also did not follow students out of class to document their

social practices during recess and lunch, or after school, focusing on the classroom only.

The second limitation of the study is that it only involved English classes. There is still

much work to be done on translanguaging in classes that are not seen as language-oriented (even

though discipline-specific language is still important), such as Math, History, Science, Fine Arts,

Tech, Physical Education, Health, etc. One large-scale ethnography across various subject areas

at a California school, conducted by a team of one professor and graduate students (Enright &

Gilliland, 2011) found that in elective courses, there is greater curricular flexibility, no

standardized testing, and increased opportunity to design curricula around students’ interests and

needs, which in turn facilitates more student engagement and ironically leads to development of

higher-order academic skills than the subjects steeped in rigorous standardized testing. This

finding aligns with research that shows some of the most cutting-edge language awareness

education may happen outside of class time (e.g., Hélot & Young, 2005; Higgins, Nettell,

237

Furukawa & Sakoda, 2012; Lin & Man, 2011). I enjoyed my participants’ poetry book launch at

the Honolulu Public Library and took field notes there, but do not report on this in the

dissertation since my research questions are on classroom oral translanguaging.

Thirdly, I realize that my researcher positionality contributed to ethnolinguistic bias in

my data collection. For example, I recall that when I introduced my study in Kaori’s class, I first

explained it in English, then in Filipino. In other words, I may have contributed to the Filipino

students’ linguistic hegemony by inadvertently suggesting that their language practices were

what I was interested in, in particular, rather than those of the singletons. More bluntly put, I

wonder whether my desire to demonstrate my proficiency and legitimacy as a Tagalog speaker

contributed to the Filipino group’s hegemony. (They did not correct my pronunciation and

grammar, even though there were probably occasions when they could have, except for a mild

correction once by Flow-G.) My using Filipino to establish rapport may thus have been a double-

edged sword, drawing in some participants but repelling others, as all the students in ESL 9/10

who volunteered to participate in every aspect of my study were Filipino. In English 9, Juan was

especially interested in the translanguaging practices of Kix and his friends, and even though we

checked in regularly with each other, we did not actively investigate why the Chuukese-speaking

boys did not translanguage even though there were a few of them who sat together, or whether

Kleo (the singleton of Marshallese heritage) was really unable to speak Marshallese as she

claimed in her questionnaire and interview, or why Fetu wrote in his questionnaire that he

preferred speaking English to let everyone understand what he was saying.

There is also the issue of Micronesian students’ high levels of absenteeism in Juan’s

class, which appeared to have at least two underlying causes. First, these students may have

faced time conflicts between their studies and caring for family members, who are not protected

238

by a social safety net to the same extent as other immigrant groups (see Chapter 1). Ratliffe

(2010) interviewed 26 adults from the Federated States of Micronesia, the Republic of the

Marshall Islands, and Palau about their responsibilities towards family members and how these

affected education: 17 of her participants were teachers and other educators; 2 had MA degrees,

6 had BAs, and 10 had AA/AS degrees. All her respondents discussed being kept home from

school due to caring for sick parents (3), funerals (26), childcare (3), and planting (2). Funerals,

in particular, are very important in Micronesian cultures as a way for people to maintain

connections and support each other, and result in people taking days or weeks off from work or

school, depending on relationship to the deceased, role in the community, and religious practices.

In addition, coming from an environment (Micronesia) where all needs were met through a

subsistence lifestyle, to a new environment (Hawai’i) where these needs cannot easily be met,

adults must often work several low-wage jobs, adding to the stress of trying to function in a new

language and culture, and making it all the more vital for family members of all ages to support

each other to the greatest extent—time-wise and financially. Thus, for both cultural reasons and

socioeconomic reasons vital to survival, it is difficult for students in this most vulnerable group

in the local context to put individualism and education first. Every life event, from birth to death,

of a member of a large community must be attended to, by spending time, donating money, or

giving food. Extra personal income, according to one of Ratliffe’s interviewees, tends to be sent

back home instead of invested in education (p. 684).

The other likely cause of Micronesian students’ absenteeism in Juan’s English 9 class is

that homework and in-class work involved extensive academic reading and group discussions

that revealed whether a student had done the reading. Pacific Islander culture involves more oral

literacies than Western-style textual literacies, and Pacific Islander students may thus have had

239

far less exposure to textual literacies upon arrival in the U.S., resulting in a steeper learning

curve that impacts high school graduation rates and enrollment in postsecondary education (see

Chapter 1). While Juan could not have single-handedly addressed these challenges, making the

class learn and use pragmatic phrases in all students’ languages (e.g., “Can I go to the

bathroom?”), decorating the classroom in all these languages, and trying to translate key

curricular terms and passages into all the languages, to the extent that they are translatable—

using electronic dictionaries and students’ and family members’ linguistic knowledge—might

have decreased attrition rates among his Micronesian students despite the deeper causes of their

academic marginalization, and encouraged them to take the same level of academic risk as the

Filipino students with whom Juan shared Ilokano.

Regarding future research, this study has suggested the need for clearer distinctions

between various types of mixed language use, hopefully counteracting the universalizing

tendencies of theories emphasizing the integratedness of the linguistic repertoire. Researchers

must also investigate social positioning through the use of codes and how such positioning

affects opportunities to learn. Additionally, more research is needed on how classroom

management can foster equitable participation patterns in critical discussions of course content,

exploration of social justice issues, and alternative forms of knowledge display.

Future research must also be aware of linguistic hegemonies operating at multiple levels

and timescales, not just the hegemony of White L1 English speakers but those of cultural and

economic elites from a range of ethnic backgrounds, or in this study, the hegemonies of a

working-class neighborhood which has majority and minority groups, the ethnolinguistic

composition of a class, and the cultural/linguistic resources and positionalities of the teacher(s).

240

Finally, it is worth researching how to build a plurilingual, ELF classroom given

different class compositions, such as (1) the almost-bilingual class where most, but not all,

students speak the same home language (e.g., Spanish in Allard et al., 2019), the split class

where there are two main language groups (e.g., Mandarin and English in Duff, 2002), the

English-dominant class where ELLs form a small minority (e.g., Yoon, 2008), and

the heterogeneous class with no clear linguistic majority (e.g., Matsumoto, 2018). Researchers

might also examine how a plurilingual, target-language-as-a-lingua-franca-classroom can be

created in secondary and postsecondary language classes (where again, there is only one

language in the official curriculum; see Mendoza & Parba, 2018, for a similar study to Woodley

& Brown, 2016, in a university HL/L2 classroom), and how this would be similar or different for

colonial languages that more frequently serve as lingua francas compared to less commonly

taught languages that are typically only learned by heritage speakers.

In all these researches, studies must always start with the day-to-day realities of teachers,

and prioritize the issues that challenge teachers most. For example, they can show how even a

monolingual teacher can effectively teach a linguistically diverse class (Woodley & Brown,

2016) if all classroom participants, including the teacher, take a “windows-and-mirrors”

approach to learning (Gutiérrez, 2012)—contributing their funds of knowledge to the class while

exploring things they were previously unfamiliar with. While bi/multilingualism is an asset, a

more important quality for teachers of linguistically diverse English-medium classrooms to

possess is the ability to foster plurilingual and ELF dispositions, so that when students are

encouraged to draw on their entire language repertoires, no one will be shy to translanguage

aloud, everyone will code-switch to include rather than exclude, and people will use the class’

linguistic resources to relate to others in positive ways.

241

APPENDIX A. LANGUAGE BACKGROUND QUESTIONNAIRE

Name: ____________________ 1. How often do you use another language in English class? (Choose one)

A) Never B) Rarely C) Sometimes D) Often E) All the time

If your answer is A, skip to question 3. If your answer is B, C, D, or E, answer questions 2 and 3. 2. Please write the name of the language(s) here: ________________ Now, check all the ways in which you use that language. (You can check more than one answer) ___ I think to myself in the language. ___ I talk aloud in the language. ___ I write notes to myself in that language. ___ I translate to/from the language using a dictionary. ___ Other: ______________________________ 3. If you sometimes/often/always use another language in English class, how is it helpful to you? If you rarely/never use another language in English class, why not? ______________________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________________

242

APPENDIX B. SEMI-STRUCTURED STUDENT INTERVIEW QUESTIONS

Background 1. What are some of the things you have learned (or are learning) in the class? 2. How much do you hear languages other than English in the class? From you? From your peers? 3. How many languages do you know? Can you describe how well you know each? (e.g., speaking, understanding, reading and writing) 4. (referring to background questionnaire) Why do you use languages other than English in class? Or: Why do you use only English in class? 5. Why do you think students use other languages in English class? How do you feel about this? Retrospective (with reference to data) 1. Can you remember what’s going on here and try to describe it for me? 2. Do you think you would have been able to do these activities using English only? Do you think your work would have turned out just as well, or not? 3. How do you think your language use affected your classmates’ language use? 4. Is there anything about your peers’ use of different languages that is interesting or stands out to you? 5. Do you think there should be any rules for what languages people can use in class? * Probing questions are unique to each interview and are not listed here.

243

APPENDIX C. SEMI-STRUCTURED TEACHER INTERVIEW QUESTIONS

Background 1. Tell me the story of how you became a teacher and came to teach this class. 2. What are the course outcomes? What do you think the students take away from the class? 3. How much use of languages other than English takes place in the class? Do some students use LOTEs [Languages Other Than English] more than others? 4. Why do you think students use other language(s)? Why do you think others use English only? 5. What would you like to know about students’ use of other language(s)? Retrospective (with reference to data) 1. Do you recognize this dialogue? What do you think is going on here? 2. What do you think mixed language use is doing for the students here? 3. Based on this data, do you think translanguaging is helping them complete the task? 4. Based on this data, what social dynamics are emerging through the use of the languages? 5. What else would you like to find out about students’ multilingual practices?

244

APPENDIX D. SAMPLE DATA HANDOUT

1. Code-switching to talk to different friends in the class (Jan. 17) There was one day at the start of the semester when you were juggling Ilokano and English to talk to two different seatmates—Kleo and Clara. During this class, Mr. D was substituting for Juan and you needed to draw an illustration of a metaphor… “life for me is a ---.” You asked Clara, “What you gonna put?” There was a resulting conversation between you and Clara in Ilokano. A few minutes later you said life for you is a Mario game: obstacles to tackle, mushrooms to find, friends to accompany you, and a princess to save. [You said this in English.] Then you asked Eufia (at another table) in Ilokano: “What do you call (.) didiay kalaban dat diay Mario Bro. (.) dagitay mushroom nga babassit nga kulay brown.” [What do you call the thing (.) the enemies in the Mario Bros. (.) those tiny brown mushrooms.] Later during the lesson, Kleo asked, “What is that for?”, meaning the recorder. You said, “Recording.” She said, “=Oh.” And after that, you both started singing in English, almost to the recorder; in fact, she was tutting a harmony to your singing: “Some people want it all…” Throughout this class, you alternately chatted with Clara in Ilokano and sung along with Kleo different English songs. Question: How conscious are you of communicating with Clara mainly in Ilokano, Eufia in a mix of Ilokano and English, Kleo through singing in English, Mr. D in English, and Mr. M (Juan) in a mix of Ilokano and English? Why these language choices for these people? 2. Stylized use of Korean as cultural capital (Jan. 31 and Mar. 7) You, Eufia, and other friends are really into Korean music and dramas. Here are a couple of examples from my data: Jan. 31 Kix: (sings in falsetto) “You are the damsel—di ba kasdiay? [Is this how?] I like EXO better than BTS. (raps four words in Korean) You are the damsel I adore (.) didiay kanta ni Guk (.) tapos ‘Promise’ by Jimin. Tapos ‘Scenario’ by TaeYoung. Hala dika agdengdenggek, saan ka nga talaga updated—” [You don’t listen that’s why you are not updated—] Mar. 7 Kix: (to Konan) “Oppa…?” Konan: “Oppa?” Kix: “Ilang taon ka na? [Ilang taon ka na?” Konan: “[Hyu:::ng. Why oppa?” Eufia: “[Hyung. Opa is older than you—” Konan and Eufia: “Hyung.”

245

Kix: “How old are you?” Konan: “I’m more comfortable—” Kix: “How old are you?” Konan: “Fifteen.” Kix: “O di I’m fourteen.” (Pointing out to Eufia that he’s right, as Konan is older than him) Konan: “So why do you—why do you—why do you call me ‘oppa’? When you’re a man.” Kix: “Oh right.” (Eufia chuckles; apparently it isn’t just about age but also about gender) Konan: “Call me oppa when you’re a girl.” Why do you guys like Korean music and dramas? Why do you often ask Ms. Rayna about Korean words or how to say things in Korean? Would you like to increase your Korean ability more than it currently is, and if so, how? 3. I know you help others who are less proficient in English. I see though, that some of your classmates annoy you (e.g., Jhon) and it’s sometimes hard to help them, right, while others also need help (Eufia, Clara, Rizze), and you help them with less annoyance. Why is that? 4. Background question I forgot from last time: What else are you taking right now? What subjects do you find easy/hard?

246

REFERENCES

Allard, E. C. (2017). Re-examining teacher translanguaging: An ecological

perspective. Bilingual Research Journal, 40(2), 116-130.

https://doi.org/10.1080/15235882.2017.1306597

Allard, E. C., Apt, S., & Sacks, I. (2019). Language policy and practice in almost-bilingual

classrooms. International Multilingual Research Journal, 13(2), 73-87.

https://doi.org/10.1080/19313152.2018.1563425

Anderson, B. (2006). Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of

nationalism. London, UK; New York, NY: Verso Books.

Androutsopoulos, J. K., & Georgakopoulou, A. (Eds.). (2003). Discourse constructions of youth

identities. Amsterdam, Netherlands: John Benjamins.

Anzaldúa, G. E. (1997). Amigos del otro lado/Friends from the other side. San Francisco, CA:

Children’s Book Press.

Appadurai, A. (1996). Modernity at large: Cultural dimensions of globalization. Minneapolis,

MN: University of Minnesota Press.

Appleseed Center for Law and Economic Justice. (2011). Broken promises, shattered lives: The

case for justice for Micronesians in Hawai‘i. http://hiappleseed.org/wp-

content/uploads/2016/11/Broken-Promises-Shattered-Lives-The-Case-for-Justice-for-

Micronesians-in-Hawaiʻi.pdf

Asker, A., & Martin-Jones, M. (2013). ‘A classroom is not a classroom if students are talking to

me in Berber’: Language ideologies and multilingual resources in secondary school

English classes in Libya. Language and Education, 27(4), 343-355.

https://doi.org/10.1080/09500782.2013.788189

Auer, P. (1996). From context to contextualization. Links & Letters, 3, 11-128.

247

Auer, P. (Ed.) (1998). Code-switching in conversation: Language, interaction, and identity.

London, UK: Routledge.

Auer, P., & Dirim, I. (2003). Socio-cultural orientation, urban youth styles and the spontaneous

acquisition of Turkish by non-Turkish adolescents in Germany. In J. K. Androutsopoulos

& A. Georgakopoulou, Discourse constructions of youth identities (pp. 223-246).

Amsterdam, Netherlands; John Benjamins.

Baker, C., & Wright, W. E. (2017). Foundations of bilingual education and bilingualism (6th

ed.). Bristol, UK: Multilingual Matters.

Bakhtin, M. (1981). The dialogic imagination: Four essays (ed. M. Holquist, trans. C. Emerson

& Michael Holquist). Austin, TX: University of Texas Press.

Bickmore, K., & Parker, C. (2014). Constructive conflict talk in classrooms: Divergent

approaches to addressing divergent perspectives. Theory & Research in Social Education,

42(3), 291-335. http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/00933104.2014.901199

Blackledge, A., & Creese, A. (2017). Translanguaging and the body. International Journal of

Multilingualism, 14(3), 250-268. https://doi.org/10.1080/14790718.2017.1315809

Blommaert, J., & Backus, A. (2013). Superdiverse repertoires and the individual. In I. de Saint-

Georges & J.-J. Weber (Eds.), Multilingualism and modality: Current challenges for

educational studies (pp. 11-32). Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense Publishers.

Bonacina-Pugh, F. (2012). Researching ‘practiced language policies’: Insights from conversation

analysis. Language Policy, 11, 213-234. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10993-012-9243-x

Borg, S. (1996). Language pedagogy and linguistics. Language Awareness, 5(2), 118-124.

https://doi.org/10.1080/09658416.1996.9959897

248

Bourdieu, P. (1986). The forms of capital. In J. Richardson (Ed.), Handbook of theory and

research for the sociology of education (pp. 241-258). New York, NY: Greenwood.

Bucholtz, M., & Hall, K. (2005). Identity and interaction: A sociocultural linguistics

approach. Discourse Studies, 7(4-5), 585-614.

https://doi.org/10.1177/1461445605054407

Bunch, G. C. (2013). Pedagogical language knowledge: Preparing mainstream teachers for

English learners in the new standards era. Review of Research in Education, 37, 298-341.

https://doi.org/10.3102/0091732X12461772

Canagarajah, S. (2011a). Codemeshing in academic writing: Identifying teachable strategies of

translanguaging. The Modern Language Journal, 95(3), 401-417.

https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-4781.2011.01207.x

Canagarajah, S. (2011b). Translanguaging in the classroom: Emerging issues for research and

pedagogy. Applied Linguistics Review, 2, 1-28. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110239331.1

Canagarajah, S. (2012). Styling one’s own in the Sri Lankan Tamil diaspora: Implications for

language and ethnicity. Journal of Language, Identity & Education, 11(2), 124-135.

https://doi.org/10.1080/15348458.2012.667309

Cazden, C. B. (2001). Classroom discourse: The language of teaching and learning (2nd ed.).

Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Cenoz, J., & Gorter, D. (2011). Focus on multilingualism: A study of trilingual writing. The

Modern Language Journal, 95(3), 356-369. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-

4781.2011.01206.x

249

Cenoz, J., & Gorter, D. (2017). Minority languages and sustainable translanguaging: Threat or

opportunity? Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development, 38(10), 901-912.

https://doi.org/10.1080/01434632.2017.1284855

Charalambous, P., Charalambous, C., & Zembylas, M. (2016). Troubling translanguaging:

Language ideologies, superdiversity and interethnic conflict. Applied Linguistics Review,

7(3), 327-352. https://doi.org/10.1515/applirev-2016-0014

Chun, E. (2009). Speaking like Asian immigrants: Intersections of accommodation and mocking

at a U.S. high school. Pragmatics, 19(1), 17-38. https://doi.org/10.1075/prag.19.1.02chu

College Board. (2017). English Language Arts Grades 6-12.

https://springboard.collegeboard.org/ela/6-to-12-grade

Conference on College Composition and Communication (CCCC). (1974). Students’ right to

their own language. College Composition and Communication, 25(3), 1-32. https://prod-

ncte-cdn.azureedge.net/nctefiles/groups/cccc/newsrtol.pdf

Cook, V. J. (1992). Evidence for multicompetence. Language Learning, 42(4), 557-591.

https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-1770.1992.tb01044.x

Copland, F., & Creese, A. (2015). Linguistic ethnography: Collecting, analysing and presenting

data. London, UK: SAGE.

Council of Europe. (2001). Common European Framework of Reference for Languages.

Strasbourg, France: Council of Europe.

Coupland, N. (2001). Dialect stylization in radio talk. Language in Society, 30(3), 345-375.

https://doi.org/10.1017/S0047404501003013

250

Coupland, N. (2012). Bilingualism on display: The framing of Welsh and English in Welsh

public spaces. Language in Society, 41(1), 1-27.

https://doi.org/10.1017/S0047404511000893

Creese, A., & Blackledge, A. (2010). Translanguaging in the bilingual classroom: A pedagogy

for learning and teaching? The Modern Language Journal, 94(1), 103-115.

https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-4781.2009.00986.x

Creese, A., & Blackledge, A. (2011). Ideologies and interactions in multilingual education: What

can an ecological approach tell us about bilingual pedagogy? In C. Hélot & M. Ó Laoire

(Eds.), Language policy for the multilingual classroom: Pedagogy of the possible (pp. 3-

21). Bristol, UK: Multilingual Matters.

Creese, A., Blackledge, A., Bhatt, A., Jonsson, C., Juffermans, K., Li, J., Martin, P., Muhonen,

A., & Takhi, J. K. (2015). Researching bilingual and multilingual education

multilingually: A linguistic ethnographic approach. In W. E. Wright, S. Boun, & O.

García (Eds.), The handbook of bilingual and multilingual education (pp. 127-144).

Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons.

Creese, A., Takhi, J. K., & Blackledge, A. (2015). Metacommentary in linguistic ethnography. In

J. Snell, S. Shaw, & F. Copland (Eds.), Linguistic ethnography: Interdisciplinary

explorations (pp. 266-284). Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan.

Cromdal, J. (2005). Bilingual order in collaborative word processing: On creating an English text

in Swedish. Journal of Pragmatics, 37(3), 329-353.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2004.10.006

Cummins, J. (2000). Language, power, and pedagogy: Bilingual children in the crossfire.

Bristol, UK: Multilingual Matters.

251

Cummins, J. (2005). A proposal for action: Strategies for recognizing heritage language

competence as a learning resource within the mainstream classroom. The Modern

Language Journal, 89(4), 585-592. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-4781.2005.00331.x

Cummins, J., & Early, M. (2010). Identity texts: The collaborative creation of power in

multilingual schools. Staffordshire, UK: Trentham Books.

Dewaele, J.-M. (2018). Why the dichotomy ‘L1 versus LX user’ is better than ‘native versus

non-native speaker.’ Applied Linguistics, 39(2), 236-240.

https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amw055

Duff, P. A. (1995). An ethnography of communication in immersion classrooms in Hungary.

TESOL Quarterly, 29(3), 505-537. https://doi.org/10.2307/3588073

Duff, P. A. (2002). The discursive co-construction of knowledge, identity, and difference: An

ethnography of communication in the high school mainstream. Applied Linguistics,

23(3), 289-322. https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/23.3.289

Durán, L., & Palmer, D. (2014). Pluralist discourses of bilingualism and translanguaging talk in

classrooms. Journal of Early Childhood Literacy, 14(3), 367-388.

https://doi.org/10.1177/1468798413497386

Enright, K.A. (2011). Language and literacy for a new mainstream. American Educational

Research Journal, 48(1), 80-118. https://doi.org/10.3102/0002831210368989

Enright, K. A., & Gilliland, B. (2011). Multilingual writing in an age of accountability: From

policy to practice in U.S. high school classrooms. Journal of Second Language Writing,

20(3), 182-195. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jslw.2011.05.006

252

Eskildsen, S. W. (2008). Constructing another language: Usage-based linguistics in second

language acquisition. Applied Linguistics, 30(3), 335-357.

https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amn037

Faltis, C. J. (2001). Joinfostering: Teaching and learning in multilingual classrooms (3rd

ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ; Columbus, OH: Merrill Prentice Hall.

Filipi, A., & Markee, N. (Eds.). (2018). Conversation analysis and language alternation:

Capturing transitions in the classroom. Amsterdam, Netherlands: John Benjamins.

Fishman, J. A. (1967). Bilingualism with and without diglossia; diglossia with and without

bilingualism. Journal of Social Issues, 23(2), 29-38. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-

4560.1967.tb00573.x

Fordham, S. (1993). “Those loud black girls”: (Black) women, silence, and gender “passing” in

the academy. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 24(1), 3-32.

https://doi.org/10.1525/aeq.1993.24.1.05x1736t

Friedman, D. A. (2010). Becoming national: Classroom language socialization and political

identities in the age of globalization. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics, 30, 193-210.

https://doi.org/10.1017/S0267190510000061

Friedrich, P., & Matsuda, A. (2010). When five words are not enough: A conceptual and

terminological discussion of English as a lingua franca. International Multilingual


Fu, D. (2009). New Chinese immigrant students’ literacy development: From heritage language

to bilingualism. In J. C. Scott, D. Y. Straker, & L. Katz (Eds.), Affirming students’ right

to their own language: Bridging language policies and pedagogical practices (pp. 247-

261). Abingdon, UK; New York, NY: Routledge.

253

Fujikane, C. & Okamura, J. (Eds.). (2008). Asian settler colonialism: From local governance to

the habits of everyday life in Hawai‘i. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai‘i Press.

Galante, A. (2018). Linguistic and cultural diversity in language education through

plurilingualism: Linking the theory into practice. In P. P. Trifonas and T. Aravossitas

(Eds.), Handbook of research and practice in heritage language education (pp. 313-329).

Basel, Switzerland: Springer.

García, O. (2009). Bilingual education in the 21stcentury: A global perspective. Malden, MA;

Oxford, UK: Wiley-Blackwell.

García, O., & Kleifgen, J. A. (2010). Educating emergent bilinguals: Policies, programs, and

practices for English language learners. New York, NY: Teachers College Press.

García, O., Kleifgen, J. A., & Falchi, L. (2008). From English language learners to emergent

bilinguals: Equity matters – Research review no. 1. New York, NY: Teachers College,

Columbia University.

García, O. & Kleyn, T. (Eds.) Translanguaging with multilingual students: Learning from

classroom moments. Abingdon, UK; New York, NY: Routledge.

García, O., & Li Wei. (2014). Translanguaging: Language, bilingualism, and education.

Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan.

García, O., & Otheguy, R. (2020). Plurilingualism and translanguaging: Commonalities and

divergences. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 23(1), 17-

35. https://doi.org/10.1080/13670050.2019.1598932

García-Mateus, S., & Palmer, D. (2017). Translanguaging pedagogies for positive identities in

two-way dual language bilingual education. Journal of Language, Identity & Education,

16(4), 245-255. https://doi.org/10.1080/15348458.2017.1329016

254

Georgakopoulou, A. (2005). Styling men and masculinities: Interactional and identity aspects at

work. Language in Society, 34(2), 163-184. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0047404505050074

Goffman, E. (1974). Frame analysis: An essay on the organization of experience. Cambridge,

MA: Harvard University Press.

Goffman, E. (1981). Forms of talk. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Goffman, E. (2001). Footing. In M. Wetherell, S. Taylor, & S. Yates (Eds.), Discourse theory

and practice. London, UK: Sage.

Gonzalez, A. (1980). Language and nationalism: The Philippine experience thus far. Quezon

City, Philippines: Ateneo de Manila/University of the Philippines.

González, N., Moll, L., & Amanti, C. (2005). Funds of knowledge: Theorizing practices in

households, communities, and classrooms. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Green, D. W., & Abutalebi, J. (2013). Language control in bilinguals: The adaptive control

hypothesis. Journal of Cognitive Psychology, 25(5), 515-530.

https://doi.org/10.1080/20445911.2013.796377

Green, D. W., & Abutalebi, J. (2016). Language control and the neuroanatomy of bilingualism:

In praise of variety. Language, Cognition and Neuroscience, 31(3), 340-344.

https://doi.org/10.1080/23273798.2015.1084428

Green, D. W., & Li Wei. (2014). A control process model of code-switching. Language,

Cognition and Neuroscience, 29(4), 499-511.

https://doi.org/10.1080/23273798.2014.882515

Grosjean, F. (1985). The bilingual as a competent but specific speaker-hearer. Journal of

Multilingual and Multicultural Development, 4(6), 467-477.

https://doi.org/10.1080/01434632.1985.9994221

255

Grosjean, F. (1989). Neurolinguists, beware! The bilingual is not two monolinguals in one

person. Brain and Language, 36(1), 3-15. https://doi.org/10.1016/0093-934X(89)90048-5

Grüter, T., & Paradis, J. (Eds.). (2014). Input and experience in bilingual development.

Amsterdam, Netherlands: John Benjamins.

Gumperz, J. (1982). Discourse strategies. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Gumperz, J. (1992). Contextualization revisited. In P. Auer & A. Di Luzio (Eds.), The

contextualization of language (pp. 39-54). Amsterdam, Netherlands: John Benjamins.

Gumperz, J. (2015). Interactional sociolinguistics: A personal perspective. In D. Tannen, H. E.

Hamilton, & D. Schiffrin (Eds.), The handbook of discourse analysis (2nd ed.) (pp. 309-

323). Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing.

Gutiérrez, R. (2012). Embracing Nepantla: Rethinking ‘knowledge’ and its use in mathematics

teaching. Journal of Research in Mathematics Education, 1(1), 29-56.

http://dx.doi.org/10.4471/redimat.2012.02

Gutiérrez, K. D., Baquedano-López, P., & Tejeda, C. (1999). Rethinking diversity: Hybridity and

hybrid language practices in the third space. Mind, Culture, and Activity, 6(4), 286-303.

https://doi.org/10.1080/10749039909524733

Hawai’i Board of Education. (2016). Multilingualism for Equitable Education Policy 105-14.

http://www.hawaiipublicschools.org/TeachingAndLearning/StudentLearning/Multilingua

lism/Pages/default.aspx

Hawai‘i P-20 Partnerships for Education. (2018). Serving Hawai‘i’s English Learners.

http://hawaiidxp.org/files/Rpt_ServingHawaiisEnglishLearners_2018_10.pdf

Heath, S. B. (1983). Ways with words: Language, life and work in communities and classrooms.

Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

256

Hélot, C., & Young, A. (2005). The notion of diversity in language education: Policy and

practice at primary level in France. Language, Culture and Curriculum, 18(3), 242-257.

https://doi.org/10.1080/07908310508668745

Hepburn, A., & Bolden, G. B. (2013). The conversation analytic approach to transcription. In J.

Sidnell & T. Stivers (Eds.), The handbook of conversation analysis (pp. 57-76). Malden,

MA: Blackwell Publishing.

Higgins, C., Nettell, R., Furukawa, G., & Sakoda, K. (2012). Beyond contrastive analysis and

codeswitching: Student documentary filmmaking as a challenge to linguicism in

Hawai‘i. Linguistics and Education, 23(1), 49-61.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.linged.2011.10.002

Higgins, C., & Ponte, E. (2017). Legitimating multilingual teacher identities in the mainstream

classroom. The Modern Language Journal, 101(S1), 15-28.

https://doi.org/10.1111/modl.12372

Hoffman, C., & Stavans, A. (2007). The evolution of trilingual codeswitching from infancy to

school age: The shaping of trilingual competence through dynamic language dominance.

International Journal of Bilingualism, 11(1), 55-72.

https://doi.org/10.1177/13670069070110010401

Holdway, J., & Hitchcock, C. H. (2018). Exploring ideological becoming in professional

development for teachers of multilingual learners: Perspectives on translanguaging in the

classroom. Teaching and Teacher Education, 75, 60-70.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tate.2018.05.015

Holliday, A. (1999). Small cultures. Applied Linguistics, 20(2), 237-264.

https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/20.2.237

257

Hornberger, N. H., & Hult, F. M. (2008). Ecological language education policy. In B. Spolsky &

F. M. Hult (Eds.), The handbook of educational linguistics (pp. 280-296). Malden, MA:

Blackwell.

Horner, B., Lu, M.-Z., Royster, J. J., & Trimbur, J. (2011). Language difference in writing:

Toward a translingual approach. College English, 73(3), 303-321.

http://www.jstor.org/stable/25790477

Hymes, D. (1972/2001). On communicative competence. In A. Duranti (Ed.), Linguistic

anthropology: A reader (pp. 53-73). Malden, MA: Blackwell.

Hymes, D. (1974). Foundations in sociolinguistics: An ethnographic approach. Philadelphia,

PA: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Hymes, D. (2009). Models of the interaction of language and social life. In N. Coupland and A.

Jaworsky (Eds.), The new sociolinguistics reader (pp. 583-597). Basingstoke, UK:

Palgrave Macmillan.

Irvine, J. T., & Gal, S. (2000). Language ideology and linguistic differentiation. In P. V.

Kroskrity (Ed.), Regimes of language: Ideologies, polities, and identities (pp. 35-83).

Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press.

Jacquemet, M. (2005). Transidiomatic practices: Language and power in the age of globalization.

Language & Communication, 25(3), 257-277.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.langcom.2005.05.001

Jaspers, J. (2011). Talking like a ‘zerolingual’: Ambiguous linguistic caricatures at an urban

secondary school. Journal of Pragmatics, 43(5), 1264-1278.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2010.05.012

Jaspers, J. (2018). The transformative limits of translanguaging. Language & Communication,

258

58, 1-10. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.langcom.2017.12.001

Jaspers, J., & Madsen, L. M. (2016). Sociolinguistics in a languagised world: Introduction.

Applied Linguistics Review, 7(3), 235-258. https://doi.org/10.1515/applirev-2016-0010

Jia, G., & Aaronson, D. (2003). A longitudinal study of Chinese children and adolescents

learning English in the United States. Applied Psycholinguistics, 24(1), 131-161.

https://doi.org/10.1017/S0142716403000079

Johns, A. M. (1997). Text, role and context: Developing academic literacies. Cambridge, UK:

Cambridge University Press.

Johnstone, B. (2007). Linking identity and dialect through stancetaking. In R. Englebretson

(Ed.), Stancetaking in discourse (pp. 49-68). Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

Jørgensen, J. N. (2008). Polylingual languaging around and among children and adolescents.

International Journal of Multilingualism, 5(3), 161-176.

https://doi.org/10.1080/14790710802387562

Kachru, B. B. (1986). The alchemy of English: The spread, models and functions of non-

native Englishes. Oxford, UK; New York, NY: Pergamon.

Karathanos, K. (2009). Exploring US mainstream teachers’ perspectives on use of the native

language in instruction with English language learner students. International Journal of

Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 12(6), 615-633.

https://doi.org/10.1080/13670050802372760

Lamb, G. (2015). “Mista, are you in a good mood?”: Stylization to negotiate interaction in an

urban Hawai’i classroom. Multilingua, 34(2), 159-185. https://doi.org/10.1515/multi-

2014-1008

259

Leal, P. (2016). “I hope they have a lot of Vania out there”: Narrative-in-interview, positioning,

and ideologies of language and identity in Hawai’i. Narrative Inquiry, 26(1), 1-21.

https://doi.org/10.1075/ni.26.1.01lea

Leonet, O., Cenoz, J., & Gorter, D. (2017). Challenging minority language isolation:

Translanguaging in a trilingual school in the Basque Country. Journal of Language,

Identity & Education, 16(4), 216-227. https://doi.org/10.1080/15348458.2017.1328281

Leung, C., Harris, R., & Rampton, B. (1997). The idealised native speaker, reified ethnicities,

and classroom realities. TESOL Quarterly, 31(3), 543-560.

https://doi.org/10.2307/3587837

Lewis, G., Jones, B., & Baker, C. (2012). Translanguaging: Developing its conceptualisation and

contextualisation. Educational Research and Evaluation, 18(7), 655-670.

https://doi.org/10.1080/13803611.2012.718490

Li Wei. (2011a). Moment analysis and translanguaging space: Discursive construction of

identities by multilingual Chinese youth in Britain. Journal of Pragmatics, 43(5), 1222-

1235. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2010.07.035

Li Wei. (2011b). Multilinguality, multimodality, and multicompetence: Code-and

modeswitching by minority ethnic children in complementary schools. The Modern

Language Journal, 95(3), 370-384. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-4781.2011.01209.x

Li Wei. (2014). Negotiating funds of knowledge and symbolic competence in the complementary

school classrooms. Language and Education, 28(2), 161-180.

https://doi.org/10.1080/09500782.2013.800549

Li Wei. (2017). Translanguaging as a practical theory of language. Applied Linguistics, 39(1), 9-

30. https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amx039

260

Li Wei & Zhu Hua. (2013). Translanguaging identities and ideologies: Creating transnational

space through flexible multilingual practices amongst Chinese university students in the

UK. Applied Linguistics, 34(5), 516-535. https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amt022

Lin, A. (2013). Classroom code-switching: Three decades of research. Applied Linguistics

Review, 4(1), 195-218. http://dx.doi.org/10.1515/applirev-2013-0009

Lin, A., & Man, E. (2011). Doing-hip-hop in the transformation of youth identities: Social class,

habitus, and cultural capital. In C. Higgins (Ed.), Identity formation in globalizing

contexts: Language learning in the new millennium. Berlin, Germany: Walter de Gruyter.

Lin, A., & Martin, P. W. (Eds.). (2005). Decolonisation, globalisation: Language-in-education

policy and practice. Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters.

Liu, J. M., Ong, P. M., & Rosenstein, C. (1991). Dual chain migration: Post-1965 Filipino

immigration to the United States. International Migration Review, 25(3), 487-

513. https://doi.org/10.1177/019791839102500302

Lortie, D. (1975). Schoolteacher: A sociological study. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago

Press.

Lotherington, H. (2013). Creating third spaces in the linguistically heterogeneous classroom for

the advancement of plurilingualism. TESOL Quarterly, 47(3), 619-625.

https://doi.org/10.1002/tesq.117

Lotherington, H., & Jenson, J. (2011). Teaching multimodal and digital literacy in L2 settings:

New literacies, new basics, new pedagogies. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics, 31,

226-246. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0267190511000110

Makoni, S., & Pennycook, A. (Eds.) (2006). Disinventing and reconstituting languages.

Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters.

261

Malsbary, C. B. (2012). “Assimilation, but to what mainstream?”: Immigrant youth in a super-

diverse high school. Encyclopaideia: International Journal of Phenomenology and

Education, 16(33), 89-112. https://doi.org/10.4442/ency_33_12_05

Malsbary, C. B. (2013). “It’s not just learning English, it’s learning other cultures”: Belonging,

power, and possibility in an immigrant contact zone. International Journal of Qualitative

Studies in Education, 27(10), 1312-1336. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2013.837210

Marshall, E., & Toohey, K. (2010). Representing family: Community funds of knowledge,

bilingualism, and multimodality. Harvard Educational Review, 80(2), 221-242.

https://doi.org/10.17763/haer.80.2.h3446j54n608q442

Martin-Beltran, M. (2009). Cultivating space for the language boomerang: The interplay of two

languages as academic resources. English Teaching: Practice and Critique, 8(2), 25-53.

http://education.waikato.ac.nz/research/files/etpc/files/2009v8n2art2.pdf

Martin-Jones, M., & Heller, M. (1996). Introduction to the special issues on education in

multilingual settings: Discourse, identities, and power: Part 1: Constructing

legitimacy. Linguistics and Education, 8(1), 3-16. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/S0898-

5898(96)90003-0

Martin-Jones, M., & Saxena, M. (1996). Turn-taking, power asymmetries, and the positioning of

bilingual participants in classroom discourse. Linguistics and Education, 8(1), 105-123.

https://doi.org/10.1016/S0898-5898(96)90008-X

Martin-Jones, M., & Saxena, M. (2003). Bilingual resources and ‘funds of knowledge’ for

teaching and learning in multi-ethnic classrooms in Britain. International Journal of

Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 6(3-4), 267-282.

https://doi.org/10.1080/13670050308667785

262

Matsumoto, Y. (2018). “Because we are peers, we actually understand”: Third-party participant

assistance in English as a Lingua Franca classroom interactions. TESOL Quarterly, 52(4),

845-876. https://doi.org/10.1002/tesq.430

McFarland, C. D. (2009). Linguistic diversity and English in the Philippines. In M. L. S. Bautista

& K. Bolton (Eds.), Philippine English: Linguistic and literary perspectives (pp. 131-

156). Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press.

Mendoza, A. (2019). Translanguaging in two high school English classes. Individual

presentation in session “Linguistic Inquiries in English Language Arts Classrooms,”

National Council of Teachers of English conference 2019, Baltimore, MD, Nov. 21-24.

Mendoza, A. (2020). A linguistic ethnography of translanguaging in English 9 and its

pedagogical implications. Two-hour workshop at the Hawai‘i Department of Education

Multilingualism and Arts Symposium, McKinley High School, Jan. 11.

Mendoza, A., & Parba, J. (2018). Thwarted: Relinquishing educator beliefs to understand

translanguaging from learners’ point of view. International Journal of

Multilingualism, 16(3), 270-285. https://doi.org/10.1080/14790718.2018.1441843

Menken, K. (2008). English learners left behind: Standardized testing as language policy.

Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters.

Menken, K., & Kleyn, T. (2010). The long-term impact of subtractive schooling in the

educational experiences of secondary English language learners. International Journal of

Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 13(4), 399-417.

https://doi.org/10.1080/13670050903370143

Mercer, N. (2010). The analysis of classroom talk: Methods and methodologies. British Journal

of Educational Psychology, 80(1), 1-14. https://doi.org/10.1348/000709909X479853

263

Møller, J. S. (2008). Polylingual performance among Turkish-Danes in late-modern

Copenhagen. International Journal of Multilingualism, 5(3), 217-236.

https://doi.org/10.1080/14790710802390178

Mortimer, K. S., & Wortham, S. (2015). Analyzing language policy and social identification

across heterogenous scales. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics, 35, 160-172.

https://doi.org/10.1017/S0267190514000269

Musk, N., & Cromdal, J. (2018). Analysing bilingual talk: Conversation analysis and language

alternation. In A. Filipi & N. Markee (Eds.), Conversation analysis and language

alternation: Capturing transitions in the classroom (pp. 15-34). Amsterdam,

Netherlands: John Benjamins.

Norton, B. (2000/2013). Identity and language learning: Extending the conversation. Bristol,

UK: Multilingual Matters.

Ortega, L. (2014). Ways forward for a bi/multilingual turn in SLA. In S. May (Ed.), The

multilingual turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL, and bilingual education (pp. 32-53).

Abingdon, UK; New York, NY: Routledge.

Otheguy, R., García, O., & Reid, W. (2015). Clarifying translanguaging and deconstructing

named languages: A perspective from linguistics. Applied Linguistics Review, 6(3), 281-

307. https://doi.org/10.1515/applirev-2015-0014

Palmer, D. K., Martínez, R. A., Mateus, S. G., & Henderson, K. (2014). Reframing the debate on

language separation: Toward a vision for translanguaging pedagogies in the dual

language classroom. The Modern Language Journal, 98(3), 757-772.

https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-4781.2014.12121.x

264

Perez Hattori, M. T. (2020). Ta nå‘i i fino-ta hinagong – Giving breath to our words:

Empowering multilingual learners through the arts. Keynote speech at the Hawai‘i

Department of Education Multilingualism and Arts Symposium, McKinley High School,

Jan. 11.

Piccardo, E. (2013). Plurilingualism and curriculum design: Toward a synergic vision. TESOL

Quarterly, 47(3), 600-614. https://doi.org/10.1002/tesq.110

Piccardo, E. (2018). Plurilingualism: Vision, conceptualization, and practices. In P. P. Trifonas

and T. Aravossitas (Eds.), Handbook of research and practice in heritage language

education (pp. 207-225). Basel, Switzerland: Springer.

Ponte, E., & Higgins, C. (2015). Enriching practice in linguistically and culturally diverse

classrooms: A guide for teachers and teacher educators. Philadelphia, PA: Caslon.

Poza, L. (2017). Translanguaging: Definitions, implications, and further needs in burgeoning

inquiry. Berkeley Review of Education, 6(2), 101-128.

https://escholarship.org/uc/item/8k26h2tp

Rampton, B. (1995). Language crossing and the problematisation of ethnicity and socialisation.

Pragmatics, 5(4), 485-513. https://doi.org/10.1075/prag.5.4.04ram

Rampton, B. (2006). Talk in class at Central High. In Language in late modernity: Interaction in

an urban school (pp. 41-93). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Rampton, B. (2011a). From ‘multi-ethnic adolescent heteroglossia’ to ‘contemporary urban

vernaculars.’ Language & Communication, 31(4), 276-294.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.langcom.2011.01.001

Rampton, B. (2011b). Style contrasts, migration and social class. Journal of Pragmatics, 43(5),

1236-1250. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2010.08.010

265

Rampton, B., Maybin, J., & Roberts, C. (2015). Theory and method in linguistic ethnography. In

J. Snell, S. Shaw, & F. Copland (Eds.), Linguistic ethnography: Interdisciplinary

explorations (pp. 14-50). London, UK: Palgrave Macmillan.

Ratliffe, K. T. (2010). Family obligations in Micronesian cultures: Implications for

educators. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 23(6), 671-690.

https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390903468339

Reeves, J. (2006). Secondary teacher attitudes toward including English-language learners in

mainstream classrooms. Faculty Publications: Department of Teaching and Teacher

Education, University of Nebraska-Lincoln.

http://digitalcommons.unl.edu/teachlearnfacpub/116

Reinecke, J. (1969). The historical background of makeshift language and regional dialect in

Hawaii. In Language and dialect in Hawaii (pp. 23-82). Honolulu, HI: University of

Hawai‘i Press.

Reyes, A. (2017). Inventing postcolonial elites: Race, language, mix, excess. Journal of

Linguistic Anthropology, 27(2) 210-231. https://doi.org/10.1111/jola.12156

Ritzau, U., & Madsen, L. M. (2016). Language learning, polylanguaging and speaker

perspectives. Applied Linguistics Review, 7(3), 305-326. https://doi.org/10.1515/applirev-

2016-0013

Ritzau, U., & Madsen, L. M. (2019). Speaker perspectives, linguistic hybridity, and language

learning. In J. Jaspers & L. M. Madsen (Eds.), Critical perspectives on linguistic fixity

and fluidity (pp. 192-213). Abingdon, UK; New York, NY: Routledge.

Ruiz, R. (1984). Orientations in language planning. NABE Journal, 8(2), 15-34.

https://doi.org/10.1080/08855072.1984.10668464

266

Ruuska, K. (2016). Between ideologies and realities: Multilingual competence in a languagised

world. Applied Linguistics Review, 7(3), 353-374. https://doi.org/10.1515/applirev-2016-

0015

Ruuska, K. (2019). Languagised repertoires: How fictional languages have real effects. In J.

Jaspers & L. M. Madsen (Eds.), Critical perspectives on linguistic fixity and fluidity (pp.

53-75). Abingdon, UK; New York, NY: Routledge.

Rymes, B. (2014). Marking communicative repertoire through metacommentary. In A.

Blackledge & A. Creese (Eds.), Heteroglossia as practice and pedagogy (pp. 301-316).

New York, NY: Springer.

Sandhu, P. (2015). Stylizing voices, stances, and identities related to medium of education in

India. Multilingua, 34(2), 211-235. https://doi.org/10.1515/multi-2014-1012

Sato, C. (1985). Linguistic inequality in Hawai‘i: The post-creole dilemma. In N. Wolfson & J.

Manes (Eds.), Language of inequality (pp. 255-272). Berlin, Germany: Mouton.

Sato, C. J. (1989). A nonstandard approach to standard English. TESOL Quarterly, 23(2), 259-

282. https://doi.org/10.2307/3587336

Sato, C. (1994). Language change on a creole continuum: Decreolization? In K. Hyltenstam

& Å. Viberg (Eds.), Progression and regression in language (pp. 127-147). Cambridge,

UK: Cambridge University Press.

Sayer, P. (2013). Translanguaging, TexMex, and bilingual pedagogy: Emergent bilinguals

learning through the vernacular. TESOL Quarterly, 47(1), 63-88.

https://doi.org/10.1002/tesq.53

Schieffelin, B. B., & Ochs, E. (Eds.). (1986). Language socialization across cultures.

Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

267

Schleppegrell, M. J. (2004). The language of schooling: A functional linguistics perspective.

Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Skutnabb-Kangas, T. (1981). Bilingualism or not: The education of minorities (trans. L.

Malmberg & D. Crane). Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters.

Strauss, A., & Corbin, J. M. (1997). Grounded theory in practice. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.

Swain, M. (2006). Languaging, agency and collaboration in advanced second language

proficiency. In H. Byrnes (Ed.), Advanced language learning: The contribution of

Halliday and Vygotsky (pp. 95-108). London, UK; New York, NY: Continuum.

Swain, M., & Lapkin, S. (2002). Talking it through: Two French immersion learners’ response to

reformulation. International Journal of Educational Research, 37(3-4), 285-304.

https://doi.org/10.1016/S0883-0355(03)00006-5

Talmy, S. (2008). The cultural productions of the ESL student at Tradewinds High: Contingency,

multidirectionality, and identity in L2 socialization. Applied Linguistics, 29(4), 619-644.

https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amn011

Talmy, S. (2010). Achieving distinction through Mock ESL: A critical pragmatics analysis of

classroom talk in a high school. In G. Kasper, H. T. Nguyen, D. R. Yoshimi, & J. K.

Yoshioka (Eds.), Pragmatics and language learning (pp. 215-254). Honolulu, HI:

National Foreign Language Resource Center.

Teodoro, L. V. (Ed.). (1981/2019). Out of this struggle: The Filipinos in Hawaii. Honolulu, HI:

University of Hawai‘i Press.

Tomasello, M. (2003). Constructing a language: A usage-based theory of language acquisition.

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

268

Trinidad, C. (2005). The vanishing Filipinos. Honolulu Star Bulletin.

http://archives.starbulletin.com/2005/12/11/editorial/myturn.html

Tupas, R., & Lorente, B. P. (2014). A ‘new’ politics of language in the Philippines: Bilingual

education and the new challenge of mother tongues. In P. Sercombe & R. Tupas

(Eds.), Language, education, and nation-building: Assimilation and shift in Southeast

Asia (pp. 165-180). Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan.

Tusting, K., & Maybin, J. (2007). Linguistic ethnography and interdisciplinarity: Opening the

discussion. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 11(5), 575-583. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-

9841.2007.00340.x

Urciuoli, B. (1985). Bilingualism as code and bilingualism as practice. Anthropological

Linguistics, 27(4), 363-386. https://www.jstor.org/stable/30028075

Üstünel, E., & Seedhouse, P. (2005). Why that, in that language, right now? Code-switching and

pedagogical focus. International Journal of Applied Linguistics, 15(3), 302-325.

https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1473-4192.2005.00093.x

Vygotsky, L. S. (1980). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes.

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Walqui, A. (2006). Scaffolding instruction for English language learners: A conceptual

framework. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 9(2), 159-

180. https://doi.org/10.1080/13670050608668639

Wa-Mbaleka, S. (2014). English teachers’ perceptions of the mother tongue-based education

policy in the Philippines. European Journal of Research and Reflection in Educational

Sciences, 2(4), 17-32. http://www.idpublications.org/wp-

269

content/uploads/2014/09/ENGLISH-TEACHERS’-PERCEPTIONS-OF-THE-MOTHER-

TONGUE-BASED-EDUCATION-POLICY-IN-THE-PHILIPPINES-Full-Paper.pdf

Wandruszka, M. (1979). Die Mehrsprachigkeit des Menschen. [The plurilingualism of the

human being.] Stuttgart, Germany: Kohlhammer.

Watson-Gegeo, K. A. (1988). Ethnography in ESL: Defining the essentials. TESOL Quarterly,

22(4), 575-592. https://doi.org/10.2307/3587257

Williams, C. (1994). Arfarniad o Ddulliau Dysgu ac Addysgu yng Nghyd-destun Addysg

Uwchradd Ddwyieithog [An evaluation of teaching and learning methods in the context

of bilingual secondary education]. PhD dissertation. University of Wales, Bangor.

Willis, P. (1981). Learning to labor: How working class kids get working class jobs. New York,

NY: Columbia University Press.

Woodley, H., & Brown, A. (2016). Balancing windows and mirrors: Translanguaging in a

multilingual classroom. In O. García & T. Kleyn (Eds.), Translanguaging with

multilingual students: Learning from classroom moments (pp. 83-99). Abingdon, UK;

New York, NY: Routledge.

Yoon, B. (2008). Uninvited guests: The influence of teachers’ roles and pedagogies on the

positioning of English language learners in the regular classroom. American Educational


Young, V. A. (2004). Your average nigga. College Composition and Communication, 55(4),

693-715. https://doi.org/10.2307/4140667

Zimmerman, D. H. (1998). Discoursal identities and social identities. In C. Antaki & S.

Widdicombe (Eds.), Identities in talk (pp. 87-106). London, UK: Sage.

Documents

a linguistic ethnography of laissez faire translanguaging in two