(Vol. 1, No. 1 - Fall 1996)

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Culture and History Challenge
Cambodian Families and the Public Schools



by Reagan Walker

They are growing up on some of the meanest streets in Long Beach. But their parents and relatives have seen something even meaner -- the killing fields of Cambodia.

They are fluent in English and all things American, from Nintendo to Nine Inch Nails. Their parents speak Khmer, the traditional Cambodian language, and many cling to the ancient ways of their culture.

They are expected to go to school, no matter what neighborhood or income level they come from. Many of their parents never had that chance. School in Cambodia wasn't for the masses, but for the elite.

They are the Cambodian students of Long Beach, and they belong to one of the largest ethnic communities served by the city's schools.

Clearly, with several thousand young Cambodians in the middle grades, the ultimate success of LBUSD's push to raise academic standards will depend in part on its success in reaching these students and their families.

"The commitment is here from the school board on down to meet the needs of our cultural communities and to give the strongest academic training possible to each student," says LBUSD board member Bonnie Lowenthal. "It really is a huge challenge, and the Cambodian community has its own unique set of problems."

For several years, Lowenthal worked with the United Cambodian Community Center, helping create programs for youths and links to schools. Through that experience, she gained some insight into the community's issues.

From 1975 to 1977, an estimated two to four million Cambodians died under the rule of the communist Khmer Rouge forces. Some managed to flee, most with little more than their lives. Long Beach became home to the largest community of Cambodians outside Cambodia.

Very few intellectuals or people with higher education survived, Lowenthal says. "Most refugees came from a rural life and many are not literate in their own language, much less English." As a result, many parents are poorly prepared to help children with school work.

Many Cambodian parents also have some trouble grasping the American ideal of parent involvement. "In the Cambodian tradition, even if their kids went to school, parents and families were not involved in any way. So it's a challenge to get them to see themselves as part of the school community," Lowenthal says.

The United Cambodian Community Center director, Sovann Tith, who escaped the killing fields at night along a path riddled with land mines, agrees. He says the history and cultural traditions of most Cambodian parents create a communications gap not only with the public school system but with their American-born children.

Tith believes that narrowing those gaps is critical to the future of Cambodians in America, and that is the task the UCCC has set for itself. "I can't stress enough how important education is in this country," he says. "It is the key to everything. That's why we do what we do."

The Center, located in a gritty neighborhood on Anaheim Street, provides social and mental health services, youth and family assistance, and job training and placement to 70,000 Cambodians in the Long Beach area.

One of the Center's key efforts is YouthScope, an afterschool tutoring and activity program for middle schoolers students who school counselors believe are vulnerable to drugs or the influence of Asian gangs.

"Survival of the killing fields left many adults mentally disabled, unable to cope," Tith says. "Many Cambodian adults do not understand the daily lives of the children here. And many children, who were either born here or came over when very young, don't speak Khmer, so there's a language barrier at home."

A lack of stability and communication at home often pushes young teenagers onto the streets, Tith says.

"Kids look to get out of the house and be with friends who understand them. Some find that in gangs. We see students who would rather die for 'homeboy' than for family. We want to get to those students first."

The YouthScope program, funded by a five-year, $800,000 federal grant, supports after-school tutoring, and efforts like drama therapy, which encourages discussion about problems or about Cambodian culture. It also pays for a handful of social workers who travel to middle schools to provide on-site counseling and help teachers and with families.

"YouthScope has really been a wonderful link between the school district and the UCCC," said Lowenthal, who helped launch the program. "Counselors started working with the Center and many report complete turnarounds in some really troubled kids."

That link is only one of the efforts Long Beach middle schools are making to work with the Cambodian community. One challenge is finding teachers, community liaisons or classroom aides who speak Khmer. The district has made special recruiting efforts in recent years and has managed to raise the total number of Khmer-speaking employees to 235, including about 160 teachers.

At most schools, signs are translated from English into Spanish and Khmer, and some district publications appear in all three languages.

As part of the effort to strengthen connections with a large Cambodian constituency, educators have also identified gaps in the district's Asian history curriculum and are providing teachers with more resources and training about the history and culture of Cambodia.

Tith gives the school system high marks for its efforts so far. "I don't think many school systems would allow the Cambodian language to be taught at the elementary level and work so hard to hire Cambodian speakers and hold annual parent meetings with the Cambodian community. Not every school makes the effort, but overall I see tremendous effort across of the system."

Tith says Cambodian-Americans have much to learn about community involvement. In Cambodia the lower class simply wasn't empowered to take any action.

"We've been invited to the table here, but we haven't always known what to do once we got there," he says. "We are working on teaching our people about community power, so they will know how to fight for a stop sign in their neighborhood or for a better school."

The challenge for Tith -- and the school system -- is continuing to make the links stronger amid an uncertain funding climate and a backlash against immigrants. The funding issue is particularly crucial for the Center. The YouthScope grant is about to expire and Tith worries that if Congress votes in favor of block grants to states, the "money will never trickle down to us."

But he is hopeful that with continuing support from the schools and other agencies, the Center can convince state and local leaders of the value of its work.

"These children and their parents have suffered. We want them to know they are not alone. We will help them meet high standards," Tith said. "This community cares about success."

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