Border Crossings
For my Border Crossings activity, I had dinner with a friend who is a native Spanish speaker and her husband. Prior to the dinner, I asked them to spend most of the meal speaking only in Spanish. The goal was simple: I wanted to feel, even briefly, what it is like to sit in a space where the language around me is not fully accessible.
My friend loved the idea. She is also an educator and works with English Learners, so she immediately understood the purpose behind it. She did not just talk around me, either. She pulled me into the conversation. She asked me questions in Spanish, used gestures, changed her facial expressions, and gave me all kinds of clues to help me figure things out.
And I was still mostly clueless.
Every now and then, I caught a familiar word. Sometimes I could tell from her tone or body language that she was asking a question or making a joke. I could usually sense the mood of the conversation, but that was not the same as understanding it. I was piecing together meaning from scraps. A look here. A gesture there. A word I recognized. A laugh at the right time and hope for the best.
Because this was dinner with a friend and colleague, the experience was funny more than frightening. We laughed a lot. I knew I was safe. I knew no one was judging me. I also knew I could stop the activity at any time and ask what was going on. That safety was important. It made the experience enjoyable, but it also made me reflect about how different it would feel in a real situation where I did not know the people, did not understand the language, and did not feel comfortable asking for help.
That is where the reflection became more insightful for me. This activity gave me a small glimpse into how exhausting it can be to function in a setting where language is a barrier. Even when people are kind, there can still be a feeling of being outside the conversation. You are present, but not fully included. You are listening, watching, trying, guessing. It takes a lot of mental energy just to keep up.
I thought about our newcomer students. How often are they doing this exact thing during the school day? Watching faces. Listening for familiar words. Trying to understand directions, jokes, assignments, hallway conversations, and classroom expectations all at the same time. It is easy to forget how much work that takes. Confusion does not mean a student is not trying. Sometimes confusion means the student is working incredibly hard.
This connects directly to my own school setting. Within the borders of my school, there is a multicultural mix of native-born Americans, Indigenous peoples, Hispanic students, Burmese students, and students from a few Middle Eastern countries. My school has many students from Burma, and this year about half of my IEP caseload was made up of Burmese students. Those meetings required an interpreter.
Something I have noticed is how difficult it can be to explain the technicalities of the IEP process and what it all actually means to families. Special education language can be complicated even for native English speakers. Terms like “least restrictive environment,” “present levels,” “accommodations,” and “progress monitoring” are not exactly everyday conversation. Imagine trying to understand all of that through interpretation, while also making decisions about your child’s education. That is a lot to ask of families.
Communication is not just about saying words. It is about making sure people have access to meaning. I need to continue being intentional about slowing down, checking for understanding, using clear language, and creating space for questions. I also think it would be beneficial to reach out to my Burmese colleagues for insight and advice. They may be able to help me better understand how to support families, explain the IEP process more clearly, and make meetings feel less overwhelming.
This dinner started as a simple activity with a friend. In the moment, it was funny. But afterward, it stayed with me. It reminded me that belonging often begins with language, but it does not end there. People need to feel seen, included, and respected. As an educator, that is something I want to keep working toward.
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