Samuel Kanwea showed up for what should have been his freshman year in high school illiterate, malnourished and exhausted from years of living in a refugee camp in Ivory Coast. His family had never been able to afford the luxury of education, so he spent his early teenage years collecting firewood and selling fish.
When the Liberian refugee started school in Oakland at the age of 17, it was the first time he had set foot in a classroom.
"Everyone was speaking English and it confused me," said Kanwea, a lanky student with a wide smile. "And I felt scared because I think that I was the only one who didn't know how to read."
New immigrants and refugees have long posed challenges for educators in the United States, but Kanwea and others like him present unique problems because they are often strangers to traditional schools. Academic issues are only one facet of their adjustment. Not only must educators teach them English and move them toward graduation, but they also must counsel many students grappling with the trauma of wars, persecution or poverty.
"Their needs are emotional, political, economic and social," said Ingrid Seyer-Ochi, assistant professor of education at UC Berkeley. "When we say that we are the land of opportunity and we welcome all people . . . these kinds of students and their families really put us to the test."
While most school districts in California place newcomers directly into traditional campuses or short-term English-language programs, Oakland Unified School District offers them an alternative campus -- and the option to stay there until graduation. The Oakland International High School opened in 2007 to educate the city's recent refugees and immigrants, and now enrolls about 220 students from around the world, including from Yemen, Mongolia, Russia, Ghana and Honduras.
This month, Kanwea, now 20, entered his final year at the school with the routine of a typical student: attending classes, playing basketball and doing homework. He has also gained weight, frequently going back for second helpings of the free lunch.
Kanwea tells people his birthday is Jan. 1, a date assigned by the United Nations refugee agency, because he doesn't know the day he was born. He grew up in Liberia without electricity or running water and subsisted on the food his family grew: tomatoes, rice, peppers and cucumbers. The family fled the war-torn country in 1992 and, after many years in Ivory Coast, came to the United States as refugees.
