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The greatest tragedy about bilingual education is that it’s become a political problem, not a pedagogical one.

A major reason for that is the very goal of bilingual education — to teach all students to be fluent in English — is itself a political problem. Nativists, jingoists, anti-immigration forces, and, in some cases, just plain ol’ bigots pull the debate in one direction. Separatists and multiculturalists and pro-immigrationists pull it in the other direction. Folks with a vested interest in the status quo, rightly or wrongly, lend their voices to the fray. Ultimately, it becomes as much a desire to “score points” as to do what’s right for the kids involved.

The current ground for debate here in Colorado is the proposed Amendment 31, up before the voters in November. Proposed and backed by the same folks who led a similar (successful) charge in California, Amendment 31 is stirring up by far the most heat in the coming election.

Amendment 31 would, to make a long story short, mandate English-immersion classes for non-English-speaking kids. Waivers would be possible, but difficult to obtain.

While there’s a lot of discussion around a large number of languages in the bilingual world, it’s worth cutting through the chaff and making it clear that much of the debate has to do with Spanish-speakers, usually associated with recent immigrants (legal and otherwise) coming from the south. Certainly that’s where the debate center here in Colorado. Remembering that can make it clearer where some of the political forces against and for the proposal come from — in some cases, ugly messengers obscuring their message.

I am not a fan of much of what currently goes on in bilingual ed. I say that as a former teacher who taught a bilingual classroom. The theory behind most bilingual programs — teach some English while also teaching core subjects in the native language (so that kids don’t fall behind) sounds good. In theory. In practice, it can simply become a way to perpetuate kids in not learning English. The statistical data as to what happens in different programs are mixed, and the anecdotal data is all over the board. A lot of debate over the value of different programs, what programs are being used, and how kids are (or aren’t) locked into them seems to degenerate quickly into people calling each other liars (and, sometimes, racists — or traitors, if it’s Hispanics critiquing bilingual programs, or Anglos supporting them).

In other words, it’s very difficult to get hard, fast, widely accepted data on any of the questions involved in this issue, pro or con, without running into a quagmire of personal smears and conflicts.

Now, from what I’ve seen, I think there’s a lot of value in English immersion as a primary strategy. I think there needs to be flexibility, but the more English kids are exposed to, and the sooner, the more quickly the transition will take place to their being able to learn other subject matter.

Unlike some in the anti-bilingual camp, I don’t have a problem with multi-lingual kids. I really don’t mind if kids maintain the language of their parents, while they learn to speak the primary language of the US. I think it’s useful. I think it’s fun. I think it’s even healthy, a bonus, a neat thing to be preserved if possible. It’s not, frankly, the primary or sole role of the schools to preserve that multilingualism, but if they can assist it, so much the better.

On the other hand, and unlike some in the pro-bilingual camp, I don’t equate teaching kids to speak English, and the idea of the US as a primarily English-speaking nation, to be the moral equivalent of cultural genocide. My own immigrant roots — both Italian and Spanish-speaking — seem to have settled here quite nicely. Certainly the second and third-generation Americans on my Mom’s side — which, I’ll note, includes my Mom — don’t seem to have become culturally devastated and psychologically rootless by no longer speaking Italian.

The folks who engage in that sort of argumentation — and, yes, I’ve seen the term “cultural genocide” actually used in this context — discredit their own argument through their hyperbole. This is not a discussion about banning use of Spanish on the playground, about making kids ashamed of their cultural background, about “sink or swim” programs, nor about sending kids off to camps where they will be brainwashed into being good little WASPs. Those sorts of things have happened in the past, but it’s not what’s being discussed here. Instead, it’s a debate about the best way to get kids functioning in English as soon as possible (and, for some, a sub-textual debate about whether that’s a desirable goal).

My misgivings aside, though, about the debate surrounding bilingual education, and what it actually ends out being in the classroom, I plan on voting against Amendment 31.

First, it’s a constitutional amendment. There’s always a sneaking desire to stick things into state constitutions because it prevents tampering (or makes tampering much more difficult) by legislators. But that’s a two-edged sword. This is not a major principle we’re talking about, like free speech or arms-bearing or things like that which, to my mind, are appropriate to the constitution. This is the mandating of a particular pedagogical approach. That’s not proper to the constitution, both as a matter of political philosophy and because “preventing tampering” also means “preventing refining, adjusting, and fixing.” It would be like a constitutional mandate of a particular set of medical procedures for an specific disease.

Secondly, it mandates an educational monoculture. There will be One Way to teach English. The End.

As a former teacher, I know that’s a surefire recipe for disaster. Kids are different. How they learn, where they are coming from in their education, those are all individual aspects, and can vary widely from kid to kid. Settings and communities are different, too. Mandating a single pedagogical course — as opposed to mandating a pedagogical goal — is stupid and unrealistic. It is, perhaps, a desire to break through the resistance of the education establishment, but it’s a sledgehammer in a china shop approach. Making that a constitutional mandate makes even less sense.

Finally, while there is the option to apply for a waiver, for a parent to ask for a child to be educated in a different fashion, it has a bizarre twist to it. If teachers or principals approve a waiver application from parents, and if, up to ten years later, the parents decide that was a mistake, the parents can sue the teacher and principal. They can sue for accepting their request.

Since the very purpose of an amendment such as this is mistrust of the educational establishment (i.e., asserting that teachers will not do the best thing for their students), the only reason for such a liability provision is to scare teachers into not approving parental waivers — and, therefore, defying what parents say today they want for their kids. In other words, we’re not going to trust teachers or parents. Which, frankly, is an odd position for a (widely accepted as) conservative proposal to make.

(Of course, the parents asking for such waivers would obviously be immigrants or liberals or both, so it’s probably best to deny their requests anyway. On principle. Right? Yeesh.)

The avowed reason for this clause is to make sure that waivers don’t become a regular thing, that “business as usual” isn’t maintained by mass waivers. Maybe, but it’s a stupid way of enforcing the proposal, and simply rewards irresponsibility on the part of parents.

These three areas — an inappropriate venue for the law to reside, an unrealistically strict pedagogical mandate, and some nutso, irresponsible liability issues — mean a No vote from me.

I think there is a lot of room for improvement and reform in bilingual education. It’s unfortunate that the issue has become so politicized and, moreover, that a poorly crafted proposal such as this one has become the focus of the debate.