For the first time, Minnesota Educators Can Obtain Licenses to Teach Karen, Somali, and Other Ancestral Languages

Celebrating Heritage: Language, Identity, and New Beginnings

Before indulging in a traditional Karen porridge prepared by their instructor, Ehtalow Zar, a question lingered in the air.

Why exactly is this dish emblematic of Karen culture?” she inquired, engaging her students.

One eager participant ventured the guess that its origins traced back to a time when jungles were home.

"Absolutely," Zar confirmed with a knowing nod. Back then, food choices like rice, meat, or vegetables weren’t bountiful. “Therefore, our ancestors devised this communal meal—ensuring everyone could partake without the necessity for individual meal preparations.”

At St. Paul’s Johnson High School, classes that delve into Karen culture and language have been sprouting up like daisies in Twin Cities schools lately. At this school, specifically, Karen students are diving deep into their heritage, both in a regular advisory slot akin to homeroom and an immersive language class curated for Karen speakers. While Johnson attendees engage in-person, many from diverse St. Paul high schools connect virtually.

Demand for heritage language programs has been accelerating like a race car, fueled by charter schools proudly embracing immigrant communities’ cultures and languages. Simultaneously, parents and students have nudged public schools to jump aboard this bandwagon as well.

Research consistently indicates that solidifying one’s home or community language—particularly for those U.S.-born kiddos who might not fluently speak it—can lead to academic victories and a heartfelt sense of belonging.

Yet, until mere moments ago (in the grand scheme of time), acquiring a license to teach one’s treasured language and culture was the equivalent of chasing unicorns. Teachers frequently hung by temporary permissions—a flimsy branch offering scant job stability and scarce professional growth, never mind being eligible for those ever-coveted yearly raises.

In swift response to this conundrum, a 2023 legislative act birthed a Minnesota state initiative, paving the way for maestros of languages such as Karen, Hmong, and Somali to earn their licenses. The inaugural group boasted 47 intrepid educators, with nearly one-third proudly clutching their shiny new licenses or about to receive them.

Trailblazers among them now hold Minnesota’s first-ever professional licenses in languages like Somali and Karen. State officials proudly highlight Ehtalow Zar as one of the initial duo licensed to teach Karen in the Land of 10,000 Lakes—and potentially nationwide.

“This Minnesota pathway for heritage language educators is nothing short of revolutionary,” asserted Jenna Cushing-Leubner, a world languages powerhouse at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater. Plus, universities are rolling out the red carpet with additional training routes for heritage language educators. Concordia College in Moorhead offers a master’s degree that enables teachers to snag a license; come spring, the first batch of Hmong grads had already paraded across the stage, and Somali and Karen candidates stand ready to follow in their footsteps. Meanwhile, the University of Minnesota’s program is doling out world language licenses, pocket change included.

A vibe has been unleashed,” Cushing-Leubner added. “Minnesota’s crafting magic that’s as scarce as hen’s teeth elsewhere.”

Blazing Trails and Crafting Pathways

Pang Yang, who carved out a niche for Hmong language instruction at Park Center Senior High in Brooklyn Center, initially lacked the certified paperwork. Instead, she held elementary education and English as a second language credentials.

“No heritage language license existed,” Yang shared. Despite this hiccup, her district championed the cause. As she mingled with fellow Hmong instructors, she discovered they, too, were ensnared in the web of regulatory red tape, needing annual “out of field” permissions—only allowable a scant few times throughout their careers.

“I kept hearing echoes of isolation from teachers, feeling unqualified simply due to a parchment of paper,” she lamented. “Confidence wavered, teetering like a tightrope walker.”

In a desperate bid, she compiled a portfolio to highlight her proficiency. Yet the labyrinthine process seemed bent on thwarting her; a nudge demanded a syllabus from a long-departed professor. Not one to be thwarted, Yang enlisted Education Evolving, an advocacy powerhouse, capturing their hearts and rallying support. Traditional approaches were clearly flailing against a gale of challenges.

“In Minneapolis, Deqa Muhidin faced similar roadblocks on her quest to cultivate a Somali heritage language program. Bureaucratic pushback lurked around teacher retention due to the necessity for temporary licenses. Despite these trepidations, in 2021, the district unfurled its Somali heritage language flag. But Deqa harbored fears about the program’s longevity.

“It was nail-bitingly nerve-wracking knowing that the blueprint for something magnificent might lack the scaffolding of licensed educators,” shared Deqa, now commanding the Somali heritage language ship at Minneapolis Public Schools.

After a marathon of advocacy—including a report from Education Evolving, a reshuffle at the state’s teaching credential body, and the ushering in of a Democratic legislative trifecta—a law emerged in 2023, cutting through red tape like a hot knife through butter.

“Far overdue,” Deqa declared with a breath of relief.

Building Support and Collections Kindling

For off-to-the-races participants in the heritage language pathway, the cohort model has been the wind in their sails. Andrea Sepulveda, a Spanish virtuoso at Hiawatha Academies, was staring down her final “out of field” permissions. “So much bang for zero buck,” she expressed with admiration.

Samira Abdurahman, nurturing multilingual learners at Rochester’s Willow Creek Middle School, enrolled with love for the “gorgeous” Somali language driving her. Her children too spoke the language, yet not with the same zest as she. “Lose the language and with it, culture crumbles,” she intoned, describing the existential threat posed to cultural continuity. Her aspiration? To plant the seeds of a linguistic revival, ensuring her heritage blossoms in future generations.

Her journey assembling a portfolio wasn’t a breeze—the dearth of Somali-targeted literature meant creation became necessity, like a magician conjuring inspiration from thin air. Her Eid budgeting lesson is a spirit of innovation incarnate. Approval now stands tantalizingly close, as she eagerly awaits confirmation of her position as a pioneering professional in the realm of Somali licenses.

“The anticipation’s almost palpable,” she mused with a chuckle.

At Visitation School in Mendota Heights, Johanna Huang, immersed in Chinese world language teaching, commended the program’s form and focus. Though not locked into needing a license at her private institution, she sought to refine her pedagogical prowess.

“Being a native speaker doesn’t magically bestow excellence in teaching the mother tongue,” she remarked wisely. “How you present the treasure of language is indeed the artistry.”

Across town at Sejong Academy, a St. Paul Korean immersion hub, Hyein Lee once harmonized as a pianist in Korea. Now, she’s anchoring her sights on a teaching license. Equipped with top-tier fluency, her upbringing emphasized rote drills over dynamic learning—a method she’s eagerly transforming into imaginative pedagogy via her new educational toolbox.

The vibrancy in the course reverberates. It’s as though a supportive network unfurling gave me a brand-new kit for the journey,” she shared.

Building Bridges Through Education

Meanwhile, back in Johnson High School’s culinary space, Zar’s students offered eloquent gratitude for her unwavering passion and dedication. Eh Htoo, at 14, gleefully expressed his newfound ability to scribble and scribe in Karen—a skill previously alien. Likewise, 16-year-old Poe Soe cherished the tapestry of connections and community threads woven within this embrace of culture.

Ehtalow Zar, a proud alumna of St. Paul Public Schools, threaded her family’s trail as the first to step into college. Despite early doubts planted by a professor questioning her English proficiency, she’s crossed these milestones, earning her place among Minnesota’s pioneering Karen language license recipients.

“There’s a shadow teenagers endure, hiding their origins out of unease,” she commented, mirroring her past experiences. “Awareness of the Karen identity lacks, and my high school self faced similar strains. Empowering today’s analysts stems from my core.”

And indeed, empowerment is her anthem, as evidenced by the overflow of students drawn toward the Karen advisory group.

“Participation’s skyrocketing,” Zar beamed.

Edited by: Ali Musa

alimusa@axadletimes.com

Axadle international–Monitoring