CALEXICO — It's an unlikely spot to find an educational cause celebre--a poor and sun-scorched farm town on the Mexican border.
Yet the school district here has achieved renown far beyond its alfalfa and hay fields. It is touted by supporters of bilingual education as a model for teaching students who speak little English.
The acclaim was evident recently in Denver, where the head of the nation's largest Latino organization lauded Calexico Unified School District for keeping its students from dropping out and sending so many--80%--on to college.
"Calexico, the poorest school district in California with the highest rate of farm workers and most Latinos, is graduating kids at a higher rate than Beverly Hills!" boasted Raul Yzaguirre, president of the National Council of La Raza.
But here at Calexico High School, 120 miles east of San Diego, folks are uneasy with the role-model talk. The schoolyard chatter--in a borderland fusion of Spanish and English--is about the prom, tests coming up and the fate of the Bulldogs baseball team. Not educational miracles.
That bit about beating Beverly Hills? People here know better. Calexico's 2.8% dropout rate is an achievement, half the state average for Latinos. But almost no one bails out in Beverly Hills.
And while a survey of last year's 380 graduates did find an impressive 271 planning to continue their studies, fewer than 40 were headed to four-year colleges. In most cases, higher education here means the local community college.
Still, it's easy to see why Calexico has become a provocative talking point in the debate over bilingual education. For its schools defy the popular notion that what's most important is moving kids quickly into English fluency. The measure of success here is simpler--how kids turn out in the end.
This is a place where a corps of dedicated teachers and concerned parents and the closeness of a small town help legions of children surmount the hurdles of language and poverty that seem to trip up their counterparts elsewhere.
Here you find teachers such as Juan Orduna, who holds extra calculus classes every Saturday and gets local groups to pay for students' Advanced Placement exams.
"What you try to do is create a culture where everybody supports everybody," said Orduna, who--like nearly half the school's faculty--is a product of Calexico schools. Support can mean early morning tutoring or a simple endearment--mijo, "my son"--in Spanish.
