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Newly Arrived Vietnamese Learn to Adapt

Youth Project Helps Immigrant Students Cope With Often-Inhospitable D.C. Schools

When she was 16, Nghi Le escaped from Vietnam in a fishing boat. She spent three years in a Malaysian refugee camp, fighting for scraps of food and awaiting word that she could come to America. When Le landed in Washington in 1992, she spoke little English and had to work at night after school, cleaning hotels.

Now Le is 21, a graduate of Bell Multicultural High School and a student at Montgomery College who tutors newly arrived Vietnamese students at a youth project sponsored by the Indochinese Refugee Center in Columbia Heights. One night last week, she helped several youngsters type essays on computers, while others sat on the floor cutting out paper flowers for this weekend's celebration of Tet, the Vietnamese lunar new year.

But slumped alone on a couch was Dat Tran, a 17-year-old boy with long hair and a gold earring. After two years in the United States, he has learned almost no English. His father did not come to America; his mother works long hours in a restaurant. Three months ago, Tran dropped out of Bell; now he spends his time with Vietnamese friends on the streets.

"I kept falling asleep in school, because I couldn't understand," he said through an interpreter, his scrawny legs lost inside baggy jeans. "I like to come here, to see what the other kids are learning. Maybe when I'm older, I'll become like a monk. But right now I just want to be out with my friends. I don't think about the future."

Le and Tran are among the 2,700 Vietnamese refugees who have arrived in the District since 1992. Unlike an earlier generation of refugees from military or professional families, many newcomers have little education and lived for years in camps abroad or as pariahs at home. Their children often grew up with a poor diet and limited schooling.

Moreover, unlike the 7,000 recent Vietnamese refugees scattered among immigrant pockets in Virginia and Maryland, those resettled in Washington encounter far fewer school services for non-Engl ish-speaking students, and a far smaller, less prosperous community of Vietnamese residents to help them survive and adapt.

"Many of the young people arrive with a very low level and then go right into the ninth or 10th grade, where they can become completely lost," said Thinh Phan, a specialist with the District's International Student Center. "It takes a very strong will for them to keep going, and thank God only a minority drop out."

Despite their disadvantages, many new Vietnamese students learn fast and do well academically. At Bell and the adjoining Lincoln Multicultural Middle School on 16th Street NW, Vietnamese have been among the top performers for the last several years.

"It was so hard, sometimes I wanted to give up. But I kept remembering my father's dream that I should get an education and how much I sacrificed to come here," Le said. "I couldn't understand the teachers properly, so I copied from the board and stayed after school to study until English found its way inside my head."

Despite their poverty, the refugees also bring a culture that stresses order, work, artistry and respect. In schools with large numbers of Vietnamese, teachers say that can have a positive impact on classmates who are unruly or academically indifferent.

"I think they have a calming effect on the other kids," said Alan Lovell, vice principal at Bell, as he munched spring rolls at a Tet party last week given by the school's 50 Vietnamese students. "When the Vietnamese aren't in the cafeteria, things can get very lively. When they are, there is less pushing and shouting."

Yet Vietnamese students from a half-dozen D.C. schools said they often feel isolated and vulnerable. Some said American-born or Latino students call them names such as "Chino," try to steal their money or gang up on them after school. They said that they rarely complain and that often there is no adult available who speaks their language.

"Some kids don't like it because we get better grades, or they make fun of our accents, like they consider us sub-aliens," said My Tran, 15, a student at Deal Junior High School. She said one group of students at an assembly deliberately drowned out a girl who was making a speech on Vietnamese culture. "At least they got in trouble for it," she added. "The principal and the teachers do try to help."

Last month, D.C. school Chief Executive Julius W. Becton Jr. launched an initiative to improve the system's welcome and support of immigrant students. The move was prompted by complaints from Latino parents, but Becton said that he wanted to reach out to all immigrants and that he would include Asian Americans in a new advisory committee.

There are about 1,100 Asian American students in the city's school system; about 75 percent of those are Vietnamese. Yet because of budget cuts and greater demand for Spanish language assistance for the city's 5,700 Latino students, there are only seven Vietnamese-speaking employees in the entire system. At two Northwest schools with large Vietnamese populations -- Wilson Senior High School and Thomson Elementary School -- there are none on the staff.

That is one reason the Indochinese youth project on 14th Street NW, where 250 students study English, get homework help and learn creative arts every weekday evening, is so urgently needed. Without it, parents said, their children would be floundering much longer in school. The project is financed by grants from the federal Office of Refugee Resettlement and several private foundations.

"I used to fall asleep in English, because the teacher was always speaking Spanish to help the Latino kids," said Huong Nguyen, 17, a student at Cardozo Senior High School, referring to her class in English for foreign speakers. "I really wanted to learn, but how could I stay awake when no one was talking to me?"

In contrast, Vietnamese refugees who have been placed in better-off suburbs such as Arlington, Fairfax and Montgomery counties, where thousands of Indochinese settled after the Vietnam War ended in 1975, have a much easier path.

"We were hit with large numbers of Indochinese in the 1970s, so we moved quickly, getting Vietnamese speakers and staff training," said Jorge Nevares, a spokesman for Arlington County schools, which serve about 1,000 Vietnamese. "But now the numbers have diminished, and the new families come into established communities. We don't even have a full-time Vietnamese liaison any more."

In the District, many new Vietnamese parents say they feel bewildered and frustrated by the school system. Most work long hours in menial jobs and speak no English, severely limiting their ability to communicate with school officials, help children with homework or defend them from bullies.

Ahn Nguyen, 48, said through an interpreter that she is worried about her daughter Thao Ahn, 9, who attends Harrison Elementary School in Northwest. The girl receives high marks in math, and she said a group of larger American students grabbed her on the street last week and stole her homework.

"I feel so helpless," said Nguyen, a former school principal in Vietnam who now works in a battery factory. "I am very concerned with how my children are doing in school, but I have no way to find out. Now I am also worried about them being in danger, but I feel like I can't protect them either."

In the last month, the Indochinese youth project has invited Phan, the D.C. schools specialist, to meet with Vietnamese parents, explain the school system and urge them to demand more services. But Phan said he has told them not to be overly optimistic.

"This community is still small, without much leverage," he said. "And the system is trying to do more with less."

For older students, the language barrier can push them out of school while the need to belong somewhere lures them into gangs. Although only a handful of Vietnamese have dropped out of District schools, some older teenagers, such as Dat Tran, spend their days idling outdoors, harassing smaller Vietnamese youths and attracting police attention.

"Some of these boys arrive with no fathers, no English and no place to hide," said Sandy Dang, director of the Indochinese youth project. "They feel they have to gang together to survive. I let them drop in here, but they act loud and crazy, and on the outside, they end up victimizing their own community."

Even more ambitious Vietnamese youths said they often feel torn between wanting to preserve the values of their homeland and wanting to become part of the freewheeling culture of American teenagers.

At the Bell party for Tet last week, girls in long traditional gowns gracefully served dinner, while boys in baggy jeans lounged by a stereo playing techno hits at full blast.

"My grades are uneven, but I'm doing okay because I have learned how to get along in both cultures," said Tuyen Loc, 21, a senior. "When I first came, I used to write down my homework without understanding a word. Then I dropped out for a while and worked.

"Now I want to finish high school and be a success. But I have to do it my own way."

Washington Post Newspaper