15
Icelandic Language Schools after the Crash
Pamela Joan Innes is a linguistic anthropologist and author of Beginning Creek: A Basic Introduction to the Language and Culture of the Muskogee (Creek) and Seminole Indians. Here she describes the struggles of Icelandic language schools after the crash and their efforts to live up to the general public’s and Parliament’s expectations while juggling legislative mandate, tight budgets, and limited class time.
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As several of the other chapters in this volume demonstrate, the crash of 2008 affected many areas of Icelandic life outside of the economic sector. Cutting financial support for programs and institutions working with immigrants was one realm where the government could institute change immediately with little worry of public outcry, partly because people had voiced concerns since the mid-1990s about rising immigrant population numbers and their effect on Icelandic society. Schools teaching Icelandic to foreigners were among the programs facing cutbacks and limitations.
One of the desired outcomes of language schools is helping foreign workers to develop sufficient fluency in Icelandic to find gainful employment. They are also, for some students, a means of satisfying requirements necessary to receive unemployment benefits from the state. They appear to some in the Icelandic public to be akin to the charitable organization described by Rice (this volume) because they can be considered as providing services to individuals who should be actively seeking work, not taking courses.
The schools also are a locus for discussions about Iceland’s position vis-à-vis the European Union and the United States, particularly concerning Iceland’s ability to support an immigrant population and whether the nation has an obligation to recognize and integrate this group (see also Loftsdóttir’s and Skaptadóttir’s chapters, this volume). And exploring how Icelandic language schools have weathered the storm provides a comparison with the study by Guðbjörnsdóttir and Davíðsdóttir (this volume).
Classes teaching Icelandic to foreigners also raise issues that have long been topics of public discourse, including language purity, control and evaluation, and the position of Icelandic language as a marker of Icelandic identity (Corgan 2004; Hálfdanarson 2003; Skaptadóttir 2008). People frequently raised these issues in interviews and conversations. As a nexus point where immigration, integrative services, and identity-changing practices come together, discussants found it natural to speak about these issues while talking about the schools. Interview and conversational data focusing on language schools thus provide other pathways through which we may gauge the influence of the economic crash on Icelanders’ perspectives on a range of social, cultural, and linguistic topics.
A Brief History of Icelandic Language Teaching
The Icelandic language has long been an area of interest for linguists concerned with the evolution of the Scandinavian languages. An extensive collection of early manuscripts written in Icelandic makes knowledge of early Icelandic a useful skill for those interested in medieval studies. Universities within and outside of Iceland have offered courses in early Icelandic for many years, and a range of textbooks has been developed since the early twentieth century. However, there had not been a great call for schools presenting colloquial Icelandic to learners outside of academia until the mid-1980s. At that time, the numbers of foreigners in Iceland had increased enough that individuals began to offer informal conversational courses in their homes (interview with Ingibjörg Hafstað, January 18, 2012). These classes varied in content and length, and the courses were not assessed.
In the mid- to late 1990s, as the numbers of immigrant workers rose, employers began to offer language classes. According to two instructors, these classes most often focused on work-related vocabulary and making communication between managers and line workers easier. The instructors noted that the teachers were not always required to have received language instruction training and that the quality of instruction was variable. Again, instruction assessment mechanisms were not in place.
By the early 2000s, the number of foreign workers in Iceland had reached a level where a need for organized, stable language-teaching institutions was evident. Schools devoted to teaching colloquial Icelandic were established. There was no governmental oversight yet, but its attention began to turn to the language skills of immigrants, particularly those seeking permanent residence and citizenship. Icelandic immigration policy began to push foreigners to language schools with a new requirement of 150 hours of language courses to receive a permanent residence visa. This requirement came into play at about the same time as the citizenship law was changed to institute a language test.
The Icelandic Parliament (Alþingi) passed Law 81 in 2007, amending an earlier version of the citizenship act dating from 1952. In these amendments, the Alþingi determined that “What matters most, and what is going to change in practice, is the requirement that applicants should in the main have shown some skill in Icelandic” (Alþingi 2007, 5, paragraph 1). The existing facilities were not adequate to allow foreign applicants for citizenship to reach this goal, so the Alþingi allowed two years, which spanned the economic crash, during which schools were to be well funded, curricular standards developed, and the language test for citizenship created. While funding for schools decreased after the crash, the other two portions of the plan were achieved. But the meltdown affected the ways in which schools responded to the curricular norms and the language test.
Government Action
Language had never before been part of the evaluation process for citizenship. With rising numbers of foreign nationals applying for citizenship, from 288 in 1996 to 774 as of October 23, 2006 (Alþingi 2007, 13), the Alþingi increased the requirements with a language test. Instituting this test required the development of a new testing instrument as well as guidelines for language classes. Those taking the language test are not required to take any courses, but they are strongly encouraged to do so. The Alþingi laid the responsibility for overseeing the testing and creating a comprehensive language curriculum on the shoulders of the Ministry of the Interior.
The Ministry of the Interior accomplished both of its responsibilities before the crash occurred. A testing center developed and administered the language test. Although the statisticians and psychometricians at the testing center consulted with language teachers and specialists and were aware of the work being done by the Ministry of Education, Science, and Culture (MESC) to formulate the school curriculum, they ultimately developed a test structure that does not satisfy many specialists.
By 2008 testing was underway. From the outset, applicants were required to pay a fee, which an employee at the testing center said covered the costs for the center. However, the test is administered only when enough employees from the center can monitor the test session, a restriction that may cause a slight decrease in test offerings if overtime pay and staff shortages restrict employee availability for weekend tests. No employee shortages were reported to have occurred after the crash, but the person with whom I spoke hinted that limits on overtime were becoming a problem.
The numbers and curricular strength of language classes targeting foreign learners was a prime area of concern for the Alþingi as Act 81 of 2007 was debated. During the debate, it became clear that the number of credible schools teaching foreigners was too low. Along with increasing support for such schools, the Alþingi determined that there was a need to establish course content standards. The Ministry of the Interior called upon the MESC to develop a curriculum to which all institutions advertising language classes would be held.
A committee created the curriculum, published by the MESC in 2008. The document presents content areas and assessment points for four levels of Icelandic language courses. Students completing the course outlined in the document earn 240 hours of credit and should be able to demonstrate ability in Icelandic equivalent to the lowest levels (A1 to A2) of the Common European Framework for the Reference of Languages, a framework developed to standardize language assessment among the forty-seven member countries of the Council of Europe (Menntamálaráðuneyti 2008, 4; Council of Europe 2001, 1–4). Classes must cover items such as health and illness, job and school activities, clothing, food, and other common household terms and the activities within these domains. The curriculum is intended to give all students a grounding in commonly used vocabulary, phrases, and interactive routines, providing them with both grammatical competence (Chomsky 1969, 4) and communicative competence (Hymes 1971) so as to prepare them to use and comprehend Icelandic in a wide range of situations.
The curriculum has guided the content and organization of several language textbooks, with all following the order of topics and grammatical forms presented in the curriculum (e.g., Arnbjörnsdóttir et al. 2003; Jónsdóttir and Halldórsdóttir 2011; Einarsdóttir et al. 2009). In schools students are placed into language courses based on their existing level of knowledge assessed against the four language skill levels presented in the curricular document. The content covered in classes is identical to that specified in the curriculum. Schools and textbook writers attend to the requirements imposed by the MESC document.
In the Classroom
It is within the schools themselves that one finds the greatest evidence that the economic crash has affected the way Icelandic is taught. Schools are dependent, in part, on government support since student fees do not cover all costs. Also, given that language schools are places of contact for students and teachers from very different backgrounds, schools can become sites of friction, contestation, agreement, and empowerment, as Freire (1993) and hooks (1994) argue is true for public schools where minority students are subject to a system created and governed by the majority. Teachers and school administrators have had to react to the stresses on students and colleagues over the course of the economic meltdown in ways that have influenced what is covered in classes and how.
Conversations with those who work at language schools make evident the powerful effects of the economic crisis, often in very personal ways. One thing these conversations revealed, but which will not be discussed in great detail here, is that school employees are concerned about their job security. When discussing their use of alternative pedagogical methods, seven of the nine teachers interviewed said that they were anxious that releasing this information could jeopardize their employment. Three of the five school administrators interviewed also expressed concern about continuing support from the government to keep their school open and wanted assurance that their opinions would not be traceable to their school. They explained that their school budgets are so reliant on government funding that any decrease affects some aspect of the operation, even causing layoffs. Therefore, all school employees’ identities are anonymous.
When students enter the language schools, the first requirement is to place them into the appropriate course level. This is achieved primarily through conversation with the student, during which a staff member determines the student’s command of grammar and lexical forms. Placement is an inexact science, though this is not often a problem since students are allowed to move either up or down in level during the first week or two of classes. However, it does appear that there are times when staff place students in particular classes to keep one teacher’s load fairly equivalent to the others’.
Three teachers in one language school and one from another school spoke to the issue of student placement. One suggested that students are placed not according to their skill level but according to what administrators think will make a student happiest and most comfortable. The teacher said that she had students in a second-level course who did not know the skills and vocabulary from the first level. She felt compelled to do extra work to bring these students up to where they could participate, rather than asking that they be moved. The primary reason, she said, was to encourage those receiving unemployment benefits to keep attending. She was concerned that these students, who were doing what the system required, would get discouraged and then assume the negative characteristics she feels most Icelanders assign to immigrants, especially those from Eastern European countries (a view supported in Robert [2008] and Ólafs and Zielińska [2010]).
This teacher, and the three others who experienced ill-prepared students, said the second important reason was to maintain student numbers. One foresaw that if student numbers decreased at the schools for any reason, including discontent at being held back, government support and tuition would decrease enough to cause layoffs. School administrators provide enrollment figures as part of their requests for government support, and one administrator agreed with the teachers’ belief.
The placement procedures in all three of the largest language schools have been directly affected by the economic crash. The crash and resulting fiscal conservation have kept the schools from developing and implementing more robust placement mechanisms. One administrator admitted that she had weighed the costs of creating and instituting a regularized placement test but could not justify the expense in the current economic environment. She thought that better placement of students would increase the morale of her teaching staff and would lead to greater satisfaction among students, but there simply was not enough money in her budget for such a project. She also thought that students would walk away if they believed the placement test results placed them in low-level classes. She acknowledged that student enrollment numbers are so critical that instituting a stricter placement policy would not be in the school’s best interest if it led to a decrease in the student population. Economic considerations thus work directly against the adoption of mechanisms to put students in the classes for which they are best prepared and are affecting the overall teaching effectiveness in the schools.
Class content and topic coverage in each class is also affected by the economy. The curriculum developed by the MESC presents a range of pedagogic topics and discursive forms that students must master. Commonly used textbooks follow these guidelines, though each takes a slightly different approach. Individual teachers are aware of the topics they are to cover, but all mentioned that they paid particular attention to those they believed would help their students the most in their work and home life. The topics chosen by the teachers did not always correspond to those identified by the curriculum committee.
For instance, the second-level textbooks include sections about calling in sick to work and asking coworkers to take one’s shift because of illness or previous commitments. One teacher was observed covering both topics, but very quickly. She mentioned to her students that she thought very few of them would ever feel so secure in their job that they would hazard using these phrases. She added that knowledge of these phrases would help them respond appropriately when a coworker asked them to cover a shift, as if the students would ever be only receivers of the requests. Students agreed with their teacher that they would not make the requests of others. One of the students mentioned that his friend lost his job because he had asked for time off because of illness. This student vowed he would never give his employer the same reason for firing him.
In the same class, the teacher told students where car-related vocabulary and phrases were located in the textbook and asked whether any students required such information. The students almost unanimously replied in the negative, with two women saying that they were in no position to afford a car. Indeed, as part of an in-class exercise, students were asked to describe how they got to school and other places. All but one student said they took the bus or walked. When the single student mentioned that he drove to school, he felt compelled to add that he needed a car to take his daughter and wife to school and work. Two of his peers nodded and said that having a family made owning a car understandable. The student then responded that his family used the bus system very frequently but that the car was necessary at times. He also mentioned that he often loaned his car to friends and provided a small carpool service for coworkers from his neighborhood. The teacher closed the discussion by pointing out how few of the students needed to know car terminology, merely directing them to the pages where they could find it.
Undoubtedly, the situation is different for those outside of Reykjavík, but students in all classes within the city reported that they relied heavily on public transportation and did not have the resources for a personal vehicle. Both teachers and students identified the post-crash economic situation as the reason for students’ lack of car ownership. Two students who had formerly been employed as auto mechanics blamed the economic crash for the loss of their jobs and their cars. Nearly all of the students in the classes in Reykjavík and the surrounding suburbs agreed with their teachers that most students were not going to use such terminology because they could not afford their own cars.
One last content area directly affected by the economic crash involved review of the daily newspapers. In all but two of the observed second- and third-level classes, teachers incorporated some amount of reading and conversation about the daily Icelandic-language newspapers, including the help wanted advertisements. The variation in the advertisements concerning the applicant’s training or certification, Icelandic language skills, and willingness to work a variety of shifts allowed teachers to address a number of grammatical and lexical issues. Each teacher asked students whether they considered themselves appropriate applicants and talked with students about skill development and ways to phrase application letters to present their qualifications for positions. None of the teachers said they had used this exercise before the crash but incorporated it to help their students with job-seeking skills after learning that most of them were under- or unemployed. Teachers noted that these exercises increased students’ reading abilities and, in two cases, had led students to get jobs. The two teachers whose students got jobs were extremely proud of their role and expressed the wish that it would happen more often.
The lack of in-service or continuing education is another area that teachers believe the economic situation has affected. One administrator corroborated this belief. None of the teachers said that their schools sponsored occasions for teachers to collaborate on teaching methods or deal with concerns in their classrooms. Three of the teachers admitted that they occasionally felt overwhelmed by the demands of their students, particularly those not up to course level, but believed their schools had no resources to promote communication among teachers about such issues. One teacher said she thought schools did not offer in-service days because the government would perceive that the teachers were ill prepared or unqualified. She thought this could lead to decreased funding of her school if government officials began to doubt the efficacy of the school’s teaching. She also pointed out that teachers occasionally work for more than one school and may switch from school to school. If administrators at other schools began to doubt the teachers’ preparation and skills, individual teachers might lose their jobs or ability to change employers.
The school administrator who spoke about in-service opportunities for teachers said that her school did not have funds available for such activities. Schools would have to pay speakers and moderators honoraria, and teachers would be owed salary for attending such events. The administrator noted that there would probably be requests for multiple presenters on such days and, quite frankly, she did not believe her school’s budget would be able to accommodate such an expense. She also thought there was little reason to provide such gatherings because she regarded her teachers as quite gifted and well prepared to teach. Of the three teachers who expressed desire for communal gatherings at which they could discuss methodological issues, two were employed by this administrator.
Comments and observations by teachers and school administrators demonstrate that the economic downturn has had significant effects on morale, decision making, and development. Teachers respond to their students’ concerns and desires, all of which are influenced by the state of their finances and employment prospects. Teachers themselves are concerned for the fiscal well-being of their schools and consciously consider their classroom conduct in light of what it means for student retention and their own job security. Administrators are aware of changes that could increase student satisfaction and heighten teacher morale but feel unable to initiate such changes due to tight budgets.
Outsiders’ Perspectives
Finally, one must consider the opinions of members of the general public who have little or nothing to do with the schools. When the author first introduced herself to Icelanders, invariably they would ask questions about what brought her to Iceland and about language schools for foreigners. While I did not record these conversations, I took notes about the opinions I heard and am drawing from that record for this section.
A frequent topic of conversation was whether language schools are necessary and whether they benefit Icelandic society. In all of the notes taken after informal social interactions, a great majority (twenty-seven of thirty-five) contain references to comments that immigrants and long-term foreign visitors should learn Icelandic. These were in line with a policy document published by the Ministry of Social Affairs (2007, 2), which states that “knowledge of the Icelandic language is the key to Icelandic society and can be a deciding factor in the successful integration of immigrants into Icelandic society.”
Several members of the Icelandic public said that learning Icelandic was necessary for immigrants to be able to work within society. Comments along this line were often followed by musings about whether the Icelandic state should fund language schools or offer opportunities for education. For most conversationalists, responsibility for language learning fell almost equally on the shoulders of the learners (“They [foreigners] ought to use Icelandic whenever they are in public; they should learn it by speaking with us [Icelanders]”) and on the state (“We have to offer school programs for foreigners; the language is too difficult for anyone to learn without a teacher”). The effects of the economic downturn arose when I asked people whether they thought the state was able to provide enough language classes. The majority commented that the financial responsibilities of the state should be directed first to Icelandic citizens and only secondarily to foreigners. The commonly shared perception was that economic resources were too thin to allow Iceland to support enough courses for foreigners who actively sought out language and culture classes and were definitely too thin to support classes for those not seeking them.
There was a shared sentiment that immigrants should know they were expected to contribute to society, not simply to draw benefits from social welfare programs. Interlocutors described schools as places teaching about Icelandic cultural expectations and behaviors. When Icelanders spoke with me about what the schools should present, they frequently mentioned the themes of social cohesion, responsibility and obligations to self and community, endurance, and survival against great odds through personal and communal hard work. The underlying assumption was that foreigners would not share these sensibilities and that the schools were one place where they could learn about such expectations. One speaker noted that immigrants could get the same information from newspapers, the sagas, and interactions with Icelanders, but he thought that language differences made such information unavailable to most. When asked whether translations of the written media presented the Icelandic behavioral ideals, he admitted that they did but said that he was unsure that immigrants from Poland and Southeast Asian countries had access to materials translated into their languages. He was only aware of good translations into English. Therefore, he said, the schools offer the best means of educating foreigners about Icelanders’ expectations for behavior and integration.
The schools, then, are to make foreigners realize that they are to contribute to the state by becoming gainfully employed, contributing to local organizations by donating time or money, and seeking to meet their needs without assistance from welfare organizations or the state. In doing this, the schools create people who do not draw from but, instead, contribute to the pool of resources available to Icelanders. Several discussed this in purely economic terms, saying that the schools should change foreigners’ habits of draining Iceland’s social welfare system. These speakers felt that the social welfare system was first and foremost for Icelandic citizens, especially following the crash. They felt it was inappropriate to help foreigners until the needs of Icelanders had been met.
There was a minority who did not speak in these terms. About one-third of my notes record conversations in which the schools were portrayed as dealing with people behind Icelanders in terms of opportunities and employment. For these speakers, the schools were places of refuge where foreigners could learn how to better fit in and access information about their rights. Several stated that the poor fiscal state of immigrants’ native countries drove them to Iceland to seek work, but then they too felt the effects of the financial crash. To these speakers, this left foreigners with few channels offering moral and social support. The language schools, along with charities, emerged as sites that offered assistance to those most often overlooked by state social welfare offices. Those who took this position never considered whether the schools suffered any strain in the midst of providing for the needs of foreigners, so they did not consider how the schools provided such support, who funded it, or whether it was in jeopardy because of the budget crunch. They simply took it for granted that the schools could and should provide support for foreigners.
Members of the Icelandic public spoke about the schools’ role in integrating foreigners into Icelandic society, which was always connected to employment. Difficulties in finding a job after the crash were rarely acknowledged. More often foreigners were described as unaware of Icelanders’ ideas of appropriate behavior and schools were accorded respect for relaying such information to foreigners. However, some criticized schools for providing unemployed foreigners with a means to continue their unemployment benefits. Some thought that foreigners were excused from looking for work while attending school and drawing benefits, which is not true.
Discussions about language schools caused people to confront their opinions about foreigners and their families, their positions on the role of the state in assisting people through troubled times, and what characteristics distinguish Icelanders from others. Icelandic language schools emerged as places where conflicting ideas and opinions converge, with people’s opinions informed by economic considerations colored directly by the crash.
Conclusions
Dedicated and competent teachers are managing to teach Icelandic to foreigners, despite the downturn. Students continue to enroll, finding the schools useful and productive, whether they do or do not have a job at the time. Government assessments of the schools remain positive, and financial support continues to flow. And the general public appears to think rather highly of the schools’ abilities to teach foreigners about Icelandic language and society. Thus, language schools appear to have weathered the economic storm unscathed. A closer inspection tells a different story.
Schools rely on a number of funding sources, including student fees, state monies, and grants. The availability and amount of money from these sources has decreased with the downturn. The uncertainty administrators and teachers feel is reflected in the choices they make about which curricular areas to cover, whether and how teachers are expected to hone their skills, and the ways in which students are assigned to classes. These decisions affect a wide range of constituencies, including the administrators, teachers, and students at the various schools, government officials, and members of the public who reach conclusions about the worth of schools based on interactions they have with students and media reports about immigrant communities. Decisions about what can and should be taught depend upon available resources and teachers’ readings of their students’ financial state, proving that the economic crash has far-reaching and wide-ranging effects on the schools.
Administrators are extremely cost-conscious and express concern about institutional revenues. Teacher training sessions and school-sponsored instructional seminars are impossible at the present time according to administrators, though they admitted that these would enhance instruction and might raise teacher morale and comfort if discussions among teachers dealt with various ways to ameliorate problems in the classroom. Administrators encourage teachers to discuss such issues among themselves and develop supportive relationships with each other, but no school administrator considered his or her budget large enough to fund a school-wide gathering or in-service day.
These decisions, all influenced by the perceived need to keep expenses low, affect the quality and level of instruction offered in classes. The four-week term structure limits the amount of time spent on any of the topics specified by the MESC curriculum. This causes many teachers to drop or provide only a minimal introduction to certain of the content areas in the textbooks. Teachers make decisions about what to stress and what to minimize based upon their understandings of student need. When students express that their own financial resources are limited, teachers may choose to rush through subjects not relevant to students without means.
Administrators and teachers are aware of how criticism of the schools might cause some government officials and legislators to decrease their funding. Government officials saw the necessity for well-funded schools before Law 81 of 2007 was passed, well ahead of the economic crash. The structures put in place to direct curriculum were constructed before the economic downturn affected the opportunities available to foreigners to attend schools and students’ needs upon completion of the coursework. This is not to fault the curriculum developed by the MESC, but rather to suggest that the curriculum covers too much material for each school term. So teachers are making strategic cuts independently, classroom by classroom, depending on students’ needs and time constraints. When Icelanders encounter foreigners with gaps in their linguistic knowledge, criticism is first leveled at the student, then at the schools. There is anxiety among administrators, teachers, and students that such criticism will convince parliamentarians to cut funding for schools.
As recipients of state funding, the fiscal safety of schools was imperiled almost immediately after the crash, though they have continued to receive support. The student community they serve is subject to critical evaluation by Icelanders, and the critical gaze occasionally shifts to the schools as the places most responsible for acculturation. When Icelanders perceive problems with foreigners, schools may be criticized for not doing an adequate job. This perception relates to larger social concerns about financial stability and employment and does not directly reflect schools’ success or failure. Schools and teachers continue to offer high-quality language instruction, despite the downturn, and all involved with the schools voiced optimism that conditions will improve and that schools will thrive.
Research for this chapter was supported by a US-Iceland Fulbright Fellowship from January 2011 to August 2012.