







































GATESOL in Action 
georgiatesoljournal.org 
 

Spring 2020 
Volume 29, Issue 1 

ISSN: 2331-6845 
 

Date received: March 29, 2019 
Dates revised: July 1–September 15, 2019 
Initial acceptance pending revisions: August 29, 2019 
Date of final acceptance: April 22, 2020 
Date published online: April 30, 2020 

Testimonio y Teoría: Creating Bridges with Bilingual Communities 
in DeKalb County 
 
A. Jyoti Kaneria 
Georgia State University, jkaneria1@gsu.edu 
 
Christian Valdez 
Garden Hills Elementary School (DeKalb County, GA), cvaldez221@gmail.com 
 

DeKalb County has transformed significantly over the past eighty years. There have been 
flows of immigrants and transnationals into the area since the late nineteenth and early 
twentieth centuries, making present day DeKalb a very diverse community. The children 
of transnationals in the U.S. find themselves at once students and teachers of their cultures 
and languages. Whether we speak our family’s languages or not, many of us born to 
parents from another country desire a connection to our linguistic heritage so that we can 
journey towards comfort and a sense of belonging. Drawing from the revolutionary Latin 
American literary genre, Testimonios (Saavedra, 2011), we share our stories with the 
hopes of planting a seed for new directions. From a decolonizing, postcolonial 
framework, we suggest ways to support bilingual and transnational students and groups 
by connecting to their cultural and linguistic assets through Culturally Relevant Pedagogy 
(CRP) and Funds of Knowledge (Ladson Billings, 2009; González et al., 2005). The 
article begins with our theoretical framework, followed by an overview of DeKalb 
County’s history and demographics. We continue with our testimonios and conclude with 
suggestions for connecting with bilingual students and communities.  

Keywords: culturally relevant pedagogy (CRP), Funds of Knowledge, 
decolonizing, postcolonial, wholeness, testimonio, bilingual students, English 
language learners, Mexican heritage, South Asian Indian heritage, DeKalb County 

 

Introductión 

Our language is something that we cannot touch, but something that, in 

addition to thinking, hearing and speaking, we can feel. The children of 

transnationals in the U.S., many of whom are also transnationals, find themselves 

at once students and teachers of their cultures and languages. Transnational is a 

mailto:jkaneria1@gsu.edu
mailto:cvaldez221@gmail.com


16          Testimonio y Teoría 

term that has been suggested as a replacement for immigrant based on the notion 

that the traditional understanding of an immigrant and their immigration has been 

considered a one-way process towards assimilation (Kasun, 2013). Using 

transnational encompasses a broader idea for individuals who leave their 

countries of origin and their non-U.S. and U.S. born children; recognizing that 

transnationals shift back and forth across literal and figurative borders, maintain 

varying levels of connection to their heritage languages and cultural practices, 

and negotiate their identities and their positions within global politics and 

economies (Kasun, 2015). Transnationals can include bicultural, bi/multilingual 

people/students, simultaneous and emerging bilingual people/students and those 

considered English Language Learners (Kasun & Saavedra, 2014; Sánchez, 

2007). Throughout this paper, we will primarily use the term transnational 

however, in discussing the demographics of DeKalb County, we do use the term 

immigrant because, during the twentieth century, that was, and still is, the term 

most widely used when discussing the journey of transnationals. Further, as we 

consider transnational youth and their experiences in schools, we occasionally 

specify a smaller subgroup, such as those mentioned above, specifically because 

these terms are likely the ones used to describe the students with whom ESOL 

teachers within the TESOL field work. We understand that the aforementioned 

terms and transnational are not equivalent in meaning but recognize that there is 

often substantial interconnection and overlap among those that fall within each 

label. Our overall purpose in this paper is to consider the history and experiences 

of transnationals in DeKalb County and their experiences and their children’s 

experiences in schools.  

As children of transnationals, particularly those of us raised in the U.S., we 

are, on the one hand, expected to be the experts of our languages and cultures 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 17 

 

when interacting with people outside of our communities, and on the other hand, 

we are seen by some members of our own communities as not being or knowing 

enough in terms of our language and culture. Whether we speak our family’s 

languages or not, many of us born to parents from another country have a deep 

desire to connect to our linguistic heritage so that we can journey towards comfort 

and a sense of belonging—identity work that shifts and transforms over time. The 

following quotes by Chicana feminist scholar, Gloria Anzaldúa, (2012) and 

multilingual education scholar, Esther de Jong, (2011) encapsulate the processual 

nature of identity and its interconnectedness with language and culture: Anzaldua 

explained that “identity, as consciously and unconsciously created, is always in 

process - self interacting with different communities and worlds” (p. 69). She also 

declared boldly, “Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity—I am my 

language” (p. 81). Esther de Jong (2011) stated that “the link between language 

and identity can exist regardless of the level of proficiency in the language. 

Limited proficiency in the home or heritage language does not necessarily 

diminish its importance for young children’s identification with their culture” (p. 

32). The visible representations of our cultures are merely the surface of what 

makes us who we are. We carry with us the languages, cultures and stories of our 

ancestors as precious remembrances of our families’ heritages while we also 

yearn for opportunities to explore the many layers of our own identities and 

unique experiences.  

We suggest that school and community leaders can support transnational 

people and students by connecting to their cultural and linguistic assets (Ladson 

Billings, 2009; González et al., 2005). Two U.S. born children of transnational 

parents from a rancho in Mexico and a farming village in India share their 

testimonios (Saavedra, 2011) of growing up in DeKalb County, painting a picture 



18          Testimonio y Teoría 

not only of what life in multilingual families is like but also of the importance of 

connecting authentically with our transnational communities. Cinthya Saavedra 

(2011) explains that “[t]estimonio is a revolutionary Latin American literary 

genre that has been used by individuals to tell a collective story and history of 

oppression through the narrative of one individual” (p. 262). Testimonios are used 

in this article to share our personal stories with the hopes of inspiring our 

community and school leaders to work and live with members of transnational 

communities in new and empowering ways. We also use testimonio to speak in 

solidarity with other children of transnationals. Testimonios are not only 

important for sharing stories, but also for nourishing solidarity and understanding 

(Saavedra, 2011). We begin this article with a description of the teoría [theory] 

that frames our work, followed by an overview of DeKalb County’s history and 

demographics. Next, we share our testimonios. We conclude with suggestions for 

how school leaders and teachers can create bridges with the transnational students 

in their classrooms.  

Teoría 

Nuestro teoría, our theory, draws on subaltern (Saavedra, 2011; Spivak, 

1994) perspectives. Subaltern perspectives are the perspectives of the colonized 

who historically have not had access to political, cultural or social power and 

whose voices have historically been marginalized (Saavedra, 2011; Spivak, 

1994). Specifically, we frame this personal reflection on the transnational 

residents in DeKalb County through a decolonizing, postcolonial (Anzaldúa, 

2012; Gandhi, 1998; Mohanty, 2003; Perez, 1999; Smith, 2012) and critical 

sociocultural lens (Lewis & Moje, 2003). Postcolonial theory recognizes the 

effects that hundreds of years of colonization had on colonized people and 

acknowledges that those effects are pervasive in the present (Anzaldúa, 2012; 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 19 

 

Gandhi, 1998; Mohanty, 2003; Perez, 1999; Smith, 2012). The consequences of 

colonization not only impacted the physical body and spaces of colonized people 

but also caused cultural and psychological trauma which continues to be felt 

today by the descendants of colonized people. A decolonizing and postcolonial 

framework maintains that effects of colonization continue in our present in the 

forms of racism, neo-liberal economics, anti-immigrant rhetoric and policies, 

monolingualism, subtractive bilingualism and other inequities we see in our 

school systems (Anzaldúa, 2012; Kasun et al., in press; Flores, 2016; Mohanty, 

2003; Valenzuela, 2010). By framing our reflection through a postcolonial lens, 

we focus our attention on seeing the wholeness of transnational people in DeKalb 

County, understanding that the colonial history of our nation, state, and county 

has consequences for their experiences in this geographical space. The 

decolonizing postcolonial framework seeks to center the wholeness of colonized 

people in a way that foregrounds their cultures, languages, identities and 

psychological wellbeing. With the understanding that the legacies of colonization 

continue today, we utilize this decolonizing postcolonial framework to 

foreground this wholeness of and for the members of transnational communities 

living in DeKalb County.  

We also frame our reflection within a critical sociocultural lens. 

Noncritical sociocultural frameworks focus on individual cultural and linguistic 

identities within specific learning contexts and communities whereas a critical 

sociocultural lens considers tensions, conflicts, history and the influence of the 

macro on the micro (Lewis & Moje, 2003). Lewis and Moje (2003) posit that a 

critical sociocultural lens weaves together culture, identity, language, race, and 

ethnicity with larger discourses, historical and institutional contexts, and power 

relations particularly when considering meaning making and learning. From this 



20          Testimonio y Teoría 

perspective, we frame our reflection not only on the linguistic and cultural assets 

of the communities we come from and live in community with, but we also attend 

to the macro-level contexts thus utilizing a critical lens to consider how we can 

connect across cultural divides and with our students in the classroom. In Table 

1, we highlight some of the key concepts discussed in this paper with brief 

explanations. 

Table 1 
Key Concepts and Explanations 

Concept Explanation 

Testimonio A Latin American genre used to tell stories and histories of 
marginalization (Saavedra, 2011) 

Teoría The Spanish word for theory 

Nepantla The space that lies in the interstices in between our 
different worlds, a space where our contradicting identities 
dwell (Anzaldúa, 2015) 

Subaltern Colonized people who historically have not had access to 
political, cultural or social power and whose voices have 
historically been marginalized (Saavedra, 2011; Spivak, 
1994) 

Transnational A term suggested as a replacement for immigrant; 
encompasses the notion that people who move to a new 
country do not necessarily stop connecting with their 
country of origin, continue cultural practices from their 
country of origin and negotiate their complex identities 
(Kasun, 2015; Kasun & Saavedra, 2014; Sánchez, 2007) 

Decolonizing A process of undoing the physical, emotional, 
psychological, economical, land-title related impacts of 
colonization that remain embedded in our current culture 
and systems (Anzaldúa, 2012; Gandhi, 1998; Mohanty, 
2003; Perez, 1999; Smith, 2012) 

 
 
 
 
 

 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 21 

 
Postcolonial The state of those who lived and existed during pre-

independence eras, independence eras as well into present 
day. This state of being reflects the psychological, 
emotional, cultural and linguistic violence and trauma 
experienced by the colonized and the legacy of it that 
remains in the present. It is also the term used as the 
temporal indication of the time after countries gained their 
independence (Anzaldúa, 2012; Gandhi, 1998; Mohanty, 
2003; Perez, 1999; Smith, 2012) 

Critical Sociocultural 
Lens 

A theoretical framework that considers not only the cultural 
and linguistic identities of learners within specific contexts 
but also weaves in a critical perspective that includes the 
larger discourses, historical and institutional contexts and 
power relations as they relate to culture, identity, language, 
race and ethnicity (Lewis & Moje, 2003) 

Fragmentation A term used to describe the result of separating colonized 
individuals from their culture and language (Anzaldúa, 
2012; Gandhi, 1998; Mohanty, 2003; Perez, 1999; Smith, 
2012) 

Culturally Relevant 
Pedagogy 

Relational pedagogy, lessons and activities that connect to 
students’ languages, cultures and identities, draw on 
students’ cultural knowledge and promote building 
community (Ladson-Billings, 2009) 

Funds of Knowledge Teacher education, curriculum development and a process 
of engaging with students that taps into their cultural 
community knowledge through ethnography of their 
communities and homes and through interviews (González 
et al., 2005) 

Un Rinconcito Llamado DeKalb 

During the 1980s and 1990s, DeKalb County was a mix of commercial, 

industrial and residential suburbs, much as it is today. However, the county 

transformed significantly beginning in the 1950s and continuing into the 1960s 

and 1970s from what it was pre-WWII. In this section we will trace a brief history 

of DeKalb County in terms of demographics, economy and infrastructure giving 

an understanding of who lives in the county and what life was and is like living 

there. 

 



22          Testimonio y Teoría 

La Demografía en DeKalb 

As part of our decolonizing, postcolonial frame, we first would like to 

acknowledge the Native peoples who lived on the land that makes up today’s 

DeKalb County. The Apalachee, Cherokee, Hitchici, Oconee, Miccosukee, 

Muskogee Creek, Timucua, Yamasee, Guale, Shawnee and Yuchi people 

populated Georgia, some of whom, mostly the Creek, lived in the area that 

ultimately became DeKalb County (Access Genealogy, 2012; Native Languages 

of the Americas, 2015). Figure 1 below shows the native tribes of Georgia and 

their approximate locations. 

 
Figure 1. Map Showing Major Native Tribes in Georgia (Native Languages of the Americas, 2015) 

In 1830, the Indian Removal Act was signed and called for the removal of 

Native Americans from their land. In 1838, federal soldiers and local volunteers 

forced the majority of Georgia’s native peoples, through the use of violence and 

coercion, to leave their land and travel west by foot across the country on what is 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 23 

 

now known as the Trail of Tears (History.com, 2020). By this acknowledgment, 

we honor these peoples and the land in Georgia that was once their land and that 

is part of their tradition and heritage. 

 
Figure 2. Downtown Atlanta 1860s (Anderson, 2015) 

Rebecca Dameron and Arthur Murphy (1997) discuss the flows of 

immigrants into Atlanta since the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, 

however they note that most of the immigrants of that early era were Greek, 

German Jewish, Scotch-Irish, Russian, Polish and other immigrant groups that 

mostly assimilated into the white culture of the white/black dichotomy in Atlanta. 

Figure 2 shows downtown Atlanta during the 1860s, illustrating the city as it was 

just before this first wave of mostly European immigrants. Figure 3 is Atlanta 

during this first wave of immigrants. Dameron and Murphy explain that many 

immigrants of European descent melted into “white” culture. They suggest that 

this melting into the white culture by European immigrants occurred for two 



24          Testimonio y Teoría 

primary reasons, one being the prevalence of racial prejudice coupled with legal 

discrimination and the other being because racial and ethnic categories were 

limited to White, Black and Other, with other serving as the generic term for 

anyone who could not or was not allowed to fit into the white or black category. 

According to Dameron and Murphy, most European immigrants were able to 

choose the white category which was not accessible to the more recent non-

European immigrants. 

 
Figure 3. Five Points, Downtown Atlanta 1890s (Anderson, 2015) 

Furthermore, because of the structure of the city, immigrants in Atlanta, at 

that time, did not settle into their own cultural enclaves as was the trend in other 

large cities such as New York, Chicago and Philadelphia and integrated 

themselves mostly into historically white neighborhoods (Dameron & Murphy, 

1997).  

Following the 1965 Immigration Act which ceased the discriminatory 

“national origin quotas” that were official policy practices of immigration at the 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 25 

 

time, larger numbers of immigrants from the Global South (Delgado-Wise, 2014) 

came to the U.S., many of whom moved to Atlanta (Baldillo, 2013; Dameron & 

Murphy, 1997, p. 49). Furthermore, David Baldillo (2013) explains that the 

signing of the 1986 Immigration Reform and Control Act provided a pathway to 

legal residency for undocumented immigrants already living in the U.S. and 

tightened security along the U.S.-Mexico border. He illustrates that the areas of 

the country that had larger immigrant populations, like California, became 

“saturated with newly legalized immigrants” which led to immigrant 

communities seeking other areas of the country to find work (p. 120). Baldillo 

notes that Atlanta, with its booming economy in the late 1980s and early 1990s, 

was a prime choice for many of these immigrants. While the 1965 and 1986 

immigration reforms allowed for increased flows of legal immigration and 

documentation for immigrants from the Global South, Dameron and Murphy 

(1997) discuss the continued flows of undocumented immigration due to push 

factors within countries of origin. They explain that these push factors include, 

but are not limited to, the economic collapse in Mexico, war and unstable 

conditions in central America (which were often the result of U.S. intervention), 

and wars in Southeast Asia and varying African nations. People felt pushed to 

leave their homes in search of a better life, ultimately finding Atlanta to call home 

(Dameron & Murphy, 1997). 

During the 1980s, when Jyoti was growing up, the Latinx and Asian 

communities were beginning to grow in Chamblee and Doraville—just up the 

road from her own neighborhood. Christian grew up in Doraville as part of the 

Latinx community in the 1990s. Dameron and Murphy (1997) suggest that these 

two cities, Chamblee and Doraville, were prime spots for new immigrants 

because of their proximity to one of two rapid transit lines in the metro-Atlanta 



26          Testimonio y Teoría 

area, because of access to bus lines on Buford Highway, and because of 

affordable apartments and homes. Chamblee and Doraville were the heart of 

where the Buford Highway corridor or “La Buford” began its development into 

one of the most culturally and linguistically diverse communities in the county 

and where Plaza Fiesta and the Latin American Association call home. Figure 4 

and 5 show the Buford Highway corridor and Plaza Fiesta in the 90s and early 

2000s respectively. 

 
Figure 4. Buford Highway Corridor, 1991 (Atlanta Journal Constitution, 2019) 

 
 
  



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 27 

 

 
Figure 5. Plaza Fiesta on Buford Highway, 2001 (Atlanta Journal Constitution, 2019) 

 At the same time, further southeast, in Clarkston, refugees from Vietnam 

were entering what would become the refugee resettlement area of the metro-

Atlanta area. Clarkston has supported the resettlement of forty thousand refugees 

over the past twenty-five years, who recently, but not exclusively, have come 

from Syria, The Democratic Republic of Congo and in the past from Bhutan, 

Eritrea, Ethiopia, Somalia, the Sudan, Liberia and Vietnam (Long, 2017). Nearly 

thirty-two percent of the 13,000 residents in Clarkston were born outside the U.S. 

(Stump, 2018). Just a few miles further to the south of Clarkston, in Decatur, is a 

large South Asian neighborhood with cultural restaurants, grocery stores and 

businesses that have been serving the community since the 1980s and 1990s.  

 DeKalb County’s current demographics, based on the 2018 census 

estimates, show that there is a Latinx community of at least 65,063 people, or 

8.6% of the total population, the Asian community, which includes Asian Indian, 

Chinese, Filipino, Japanese, Korean and Vietnamese, has a population of 49,932 

or 6.6 % of the total population (U.S. Census Bureau, 2012; U.S. Census Bureau, 

2018). Census information seems unable to track peoples from the middle-east 



28          Testimonio y Teoría 

and Africa due to the census use of racial classifications versus national or 

cultural classifications. Nevertheless, we can get an approximation of this from 

the linguistic data included in the census. This data indicates that, “African 

Languages” come in second with nearly 2.5% of the population of the county 

speaking an African language (Data USA, n.d.). DeKalb has great linguistic 

diversity with over thirty-eight different language communities reported in 2010 

(Data USA, n.d.). Figure 6 illustrates a timeline starting with the arrival of 

enslaved Africans, the removal of Native Americans, and leading into important 

events that supported the arrival of non-European transnationals relocating to 

Georgia. 

  



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 29 

 

 
Figure 6. Timeline created by the authors highlighting the arrival of enslaved Africans, the removal 
of Native Americans, and important events supporting the arrival of non-European transnationals 
relocating to Georgia (Dameron & Murphy, 1997; Wood, 2002). 



30          Testimonio y Teoría 

La Economía e Infraestructura de DeKalb 

In the early twentieth century, according to Burton et al. (2010), DeKalb 

County’s economy was mostly agricultural, predominantly based on dairy farms, 

and it was not until post World War II when DeKalb County began to develop 

into the county it is today. After WWII, Burton et al. note there was a national 

trend to develop affordable homes, thus facilitating the reunification of families 

that had been split during the war. In many areas around the country during this 

time, the suburbs were “bedroom communities” where people returned to sleep 

after working in the city during the day (Burton et al., 2010, p. 18). However, 

Burton et al.’s report indicates that DeKalb developed in a way that integrated 

commercial, industrial and residential areas so that people could live, work and 

shop in the same area. In fact, there are twelve small cities throughout DeKalb 

County and a wide range of international restaurants and commercial districts, 

some of the most notable being Your DeKalb Farmers Market, the Buford 

Highway Farmers Market, and Plaza Fiesta (Discover DeKalb, 2019). Figure 7 

shows a map of DeKalb County with six of its 12 cities. 

 
Figure 7. DeKalb County (2019) 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 31 

 

As members of transnational communities settled permanently in DeKalb 

County, they began opening small businesses in these commercial districts to 

serve and represent their communities. Other major industries and employment 

opportunities in the county are manufacturing, hospitality, retail and education; 

in fact, there are nine colleges and universities in DeKalb County, including 

Emory and Oglethorpe University as well as three of Georgia State University’s 

Perimeter College campuses (Data USA, n.d.; DeKalb Chamber, 2019). In 

addition to the formal business sectors, the 1990s construction boom during the 

pre-Olympic era, as well as the general economic boom of the 1980s and 1990s 

allowed for an explosion in the informal day labor economy which most often 

was filled with people from the Latinx community who left their home countries 

in search of work and a better life (Dameron & Murphy, 1997; Portes, 2015).  

The transnational communities in DeKalb County have grown and their 

members have planted roots. Children in transnational communities go to public 

schools which are not well equipped to support their transnational identity, and 

may even insist that these students leave their language and culture at the 

schoolhouse door, thus promoting fragmentation of their identities. As part of 

colonization, colonizers forbade the cultural and linguistic practices of the 

colonized, forcing assimilation into the culture of the colonizer which resulted in 

the fragmentation of colonized identities (Anzaldúa, 2012; Gandhi, 1998; 

Mohanty, 2003; Perez, 1999; Smith, 2012). According to Linda Tuhiwai Smith 

(1999) “[f]ragmentation is not a phenomenon of postmodernism as many might 

claim. For indigenous peoples fragmentation has been the consequence of 

imperialism and colonization” (p. 29). We suggest that the colonial consequence 

of fragmentation is also true for transnationals and their children living in the 

U.S. The 1980s & 1990s were a time when society expected transnationals to 



32          Testimonio y Teoría 

assimilate to the dominant culture, especially in the schools where such 

assimilation was equated to success. Below are two testimonios from Christian 

& Jyoti which provide a window into the fragmentation experiences of two 

children who grew up in multilingual communities in DeKalb County. 

Testimonios: Voces Transnacionales de DeKalb 

 Jyoti and Christian grew up in DeKalb during two different decades, in two 

very different communities just three miles away from each other. Both of them 

grew up with two or more languages in their homes, however Jyoti did not grow 

up bilingual whereas Christian did. These two natives of DeKalb County tell their 

testimonios of language, culture and life as the children of transnational parents. 

We share these testimonios to give a small glimpse into the lives of our 

transnational, bilingual and bicultural families and communities with the hopes 

that our stories can facilitate deeper understanding and encourage connections 

among teachers and their transnational students, community leaders and their 

transnational community members,  across cultures and languages.  

Christian 

My family’s cultural heritage stems from an agricultural rancho by the 

name of La Calzada de la Merced (La Calzada); geographically speaking it is 

near the pueblo of Manuel Doblado in the state of Guanajuato, México. Both of 

my parents are from La Calzada, a small tight knit rancho where everyone knows 

everyone, from the cradle to the grave. Figure 8 is a picture of me at La Calzada 

with my family. 

 

 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 33 

 

 
Figure 8. Primos at La Calzada, 1997. Pictured (from left to right) are Christian Valdez, Gustavo 
Rodríguez, Daniel Valdez, and Brian Valdez. All permissions granted. 

 My father was able to finish high school and was enrolling into a college 

nearby when he decided to make the journey to el Norte, to the North. My mother 

on the other hand only finished her schooling up until 6th grade, when she had to 

withdraw from school in order to help out harvesting crops in the fields, managing 

livestock and caring for her younger siblings. These were the norms according to 

my parents; men would go to school as long as they could, while women were 

pulled out of school to manage the household. Ever since my parents were 

children, they heard stories about coming up North, especially my father, who 

heard these stories from his bracero father, my grandfather. Braceros, one that 

works with their brazos [arms], filled the job openings in the U.S. that were left 

by men who were drafted into World War II. A bracero is today’s equivalent of 

a migrant farmworker. My grandfather had traveled to the Midwest and West 

coast of the United States of America seeking work in the fields, a skill he had 

from his life en La Calzada. 



34          Testimonio y Teoría 

My grandfather’s stories about el Norte inspired my father to seek a better 

life than what La Calzada could offer. My father took the initiative to make the 

journey up North, but before doing so he married my mother. They were 21 and 

18 years of age respectively when they married. It was the mid-1980s when my 

father set out on his journey to el Norte with the hopes of supporting my mother 

financially, who was pregnant at the time. While my father spent a few years in 

the States, my mother was raising my oldest sister in Mexico with the help of her 

family and community members, because it does take a village to raise a child. 

As 1989 began, my father went back to Mexico to help my mother and oldest 

sister make the journey to el Norte. By the time they made the journey, my mother 

was 8 months pregnant with my second oldest sister. My parents did not want to 

waste any time to make the journey because they knew that being born in the 

States would give their children the right to a better life, the right to liberty, and 

the right to pursue happiness. It took my father, mother, and sister three weeks to 

make it from La Calzada to Atlanta where my second oldest sister was born, 

making her the first in my father’s and mother’s family to be born in a different 

country. Not long afterwards, in the fall of 1990, my twin brother and I were born 

in Atlanta as well. As the years went by, my father was able to convince more 

relatives to make the journey to el Norte, knowing that the journey was dangerous 

but worth it. 

Before buying a house, our family lived with other relatives or friends from 

Mexico in one or two apartments. Figure 9 is a photograph taken outside of the 

apartments where we all lived together. 

 

 

 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 35 

 

 
Figure 9. Parktowne North Apartments, 1992. Located on Buford Highway and Cliff Valley Way. 
Christian’s older sister with her cousins outside the apartments where they lived with his extended 
family before his parents bought their home. Pictured (from left to right) are Diana Valdez, Dulce 
Rodríguez, Josue Rodríguez, Adriana Valdez, and Victor Rodríguez. All permissions granted. 

This extended family dynamic was very similar to what my parents had in 

La Calzada, but as each individual family began growing in size, patience 

dwindled, particularly the patience that is needed to make a home in a new 

country. By 1992, my parents were able to find a house to buy, due in part to my 

father’s job as a concrete mason. Soon after acquiring this job, my father began 

to recruit family members to work with him. As my father paved the way, at times 

literally paving the way, he and my mother were able to call Doraville, GA home, 

where they still reside today. Figure 10 is a picture that captures my father and 

his family together during a day of paving in Georgia.  

 

 



36          Testimonio y Teoría 

 
Figure 10. Hermanos Valdez, Christian’s father, grandfather, and five uncles on a paving job site. 
Pictured (from left to right) are Leopoldo Valdez, Jesús Valdez (grandfather, yellow hardhat), Jesús 
Valdez, Jr. (next to grandfather on the right), Martín Valdez (gray hardhat), Ernesto Valdez (father, 
brown hardhat), Orasmo Valdez, and Felix Valdez (white hardhats). All permissions granted. 

 Our relatives soon followed suit and were also able to buy houses in or 

near Doraville. Having the family close to each other was as crucial as breathing. 

Not only was having family close by important, but of equal importance was 

keeping our mother tongue of Spanish alive, our heritage language which gave 

us connection and comfort. By the spring of 1999, we had grown from a family 

of three to a family of seven when my younger sister was born. 

 For as long as I can remember, my parents always spoke Spanish to us and 

so it was my first language. My parents could not teach us English, so they 

constantly reinforced the importance of school and education in this country. Not 

only that, but once we had a television and cable, my parents would let us watch 

cartoons in English so that we were at least exposed to the English language. It 

was not until my parents registered my twin brother and I for Pre-K where we 

were truly exposed and immersed in the English language, and even began to 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 37 

 

communicate with my siblings in our second language. English soon suffocated 

our first language. Not only did the English language consume our home 

language, it also consumed our daily life; to the point where our brains were 

rewired to think in English, and not in our mother language of Spanish, which 

did set my siblings and I for success in public school. The primary Spanish 

exposure we had was at home, where we would watch novelas on the television 

or during our weekly attendance in church. Going to church helped my mother 

the most. She was able to connect with other mothers that were in the same boat 

as her, at times befriending the mothers that lived nearby. I never realized until 

today, how much support these mothers gave one another at the start of their new 

life in a new country. While at church, we were taught to sing in Spanish, pray in 

Spanish, and even read the Bible in Spanish. Little did I know, that these moments 

of Spanish would foster my relationship with my parents and become the 

foundation of my biliteracy. Figure 11 shows how happy my mom was at church 

and Figure 12 documents my brother and I being at church as well.  

 
Figure 11. Christian’s mother at the local church they attended while he was growing up. All 
permissions granted. 



38          Testimonio y Teoría 

 
Figure 12. Christian’s mother at the local church they attended while he was growing up. All 
permissions granted. 

The schools that my siblings and I attended were very diverse, from 

elementary to high school. Figure 13 shows my brother and sister and I outside 

of our elementary school. By the end of 5th grade, I realized that the 

demographics of my school were changing. I saw more students that looked like 

me, while students that were Caucasian were moving away. Being Latino became 

the norm in my schools. I hardly remember any teachers that looked like me or 

even spoke my home language, so hearing Spanish in school became like finding 

a needle in a haystack. When I did hear Spanish from an adult in school, my heart 

would feel a safe haven, a haven of comfort, because at times, I yearned to hear 

Spanish in my schools. I did not receive my first formal instruction in Spanish 

until I was in 10th grade. I was shocked that the teacher instructed us to only 

speak Spanish, not English. Being in a Spanish only space truly felt like a 

sanctuary. By practicing and reinforcing my Spanish, I was able to pass the 

Advanced Placement Spanish course for native Spanish speakers before I 

graduated high school. My academic Spanish achievements gave me the 

reassurance that I needed and confirmed that I had not lost a part of myself. 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 39 

 

 
Figure 13. Christian, his brother and second oldest sister outside their elementary school in DeKalb, 
1997. All permissions granted. 

As a first-generation college student, I felt uncertain. Not being able to ask 

my parents for assistance in applying to college or filling out a FASFA form, 

contributed to this uncertainty. But mostly the uncertainty that I experienced 

stemmed from fear of being labeled as different. My fear of being seen as 

different became a reality in the first semester of my freshman year. I recall a 

time when a professor asked the class a question. Remembering the importance 

of education that my parents had instilled in me ever since I could speak, I raised 

my hand to answer, answering correctly without a problem. But after class, a 

classmate of mine told me that I had an accent when I spoke English. This was 

the first time where I was made aware of my accent. After that encounter, I was 

mortified to answer questions in class. I did not resume the habit of answering 

questions again until I got into my major courses, half way through my 

sophomore year. I made a conscious decision to start participating more actively 

in my classes in part to show my classmates that I did belong there, no matter my 

accent. Attending the university was the first place in which I was repeatedly 

reminded that I was different. I used my being different to motivate me 



40          Testimonio y Teoría 

throughout college, and in the spring of 2013, I became the first in my family to 

graduate from college, graduating with a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. 

It did not dawn on me until I decided to pursue my master’s degree that I 

felt like the public education system had failed me. In the spring of 2017, I 

completed my master’s degree in early childhood education. Only during my 

master’s program did I realize that the schools that I went to had a simplistic view 

or attempt to incorporate diversity into the curriculum. Holding an international 

day event or putting up flags around the school, which are often the only attempts 

to embrace diversity in schools, does not mean that the schools are celebrating 

diversity, in fact they are mere superficial celebrations. On the contrary, these 

kinds of shallow nods to other cultures feed a pseudo truth to the students 

involved. To be diverse and celebrate diversity means that teachers need to 

include culturally relevant lessons for their students. Teachers using culturally 

relevant pedagogy (CRP) incorporate the cultures that are present in their 

classroom into the curriculum, into the learning engagements (Ladson Billings, 

2009). In doing so, the teacher creates a safe learning environment for student 

achievement and students are more able to reach and surpass expectations. 

Today, I am a dual language immersion (DLI) Spanish teacher in Atlanta. 

In my classroom I not only teach a love for a language, but a love for culture, for 

people who may or may not look like me. On top of teaching language and 

culture, I teach mathematics, science, and social studies in Spanish. Becoming 

and being a DLI Spanish teacher has given me the courage that I sought as a child, 

the comfort of speaking and learning in my mother tongue. I can now give this 

comfort to my students. Further, I am keeping families together by teaching the 

mother language and not propagating the erosion of the home language—

subtractive bilingualism (Lambert, 1975, 1977, 1981). Subtractive bilingualism 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 41 

 

is the phenomenon in which children and adults alike lose their home language 

in the “process of becoming linguistically assimilated into the English-speaking 

world of the school and society (Fillmore, 1991). In the long run, not reinforcing 

the home language in public school is detrimental to the success of language-

minority students; not teaching the mother language ultimately frays the 

relationships that parents have fostered with their children. Fillmore is convinced 

that “there is a connection between native language loss and the educational 

difficulties experienced by many language-minority-background students” (p. 

344). I have seen cases where children and teenagers are not able to speak to their 

parents because of the language barrier(s) that were created by the public school 

system. These language barriers, among other reasons, create an unnecessary 

stress on family members communicating with one another that could lead to 

irreversible effects. Fillmore (1991) explains how the push for assimilation 

contributes to the stress of dissolving familial communication. She says, “What 

is at stake in becoming assimilated into the society is not only their educational 

development but their psychological and emotional well-being as individuals as 

well” (p. 207). My parents’ journey from La Calzada to el Norte has made me 

appreciative of who I am today, a grateful son and now a passionate educator. I 

am someone who can communicate with his own family and with other families 

in my community. In doing so, I can support families that are now going through 

what my family and I went through in the 1990s: paving comfort in a different 

country. 

Jyoti 

Seven tall pine trees outline the unkempt front yard of an eccentric 1965 

A-frame ranch house in a suburb in northeast Atlanta. Nearly three-quarters of 

the way to the top of the tree closest to the house, sits a scruffy, sap-covered, dirt-



42          Testimonio y Teoría 

under-her-fingernails eight-year-old girl. Her brown skin and nearly black hair 

blend into the brown bark of the tree. She sits mindfully, feeling the wind in her 

hair. 

 
Figure 14. Jyoti posing in a tree where she often felt the most at home, circa 1984. All 
permissions granted. 

The year is 1984, and she and her sisters are the only brown-skinned 

bicultural children on the street and one of four families in the neighborhood with 

one or more parents from another country. On the other side of the neighborhood 

is James (a pseudonym for his “English” name) Lee whose parents emigrated 

from Korea, the Shankaras from the Middle East live further down that same 

street and the Chari boys and their mom who came from India live in the 

apartments around the corner. This tree-dweller, Jyoti, is a half Asian Indian, half 

white, bicultural women who grew up in DeKalb County in the northeast corner 

of Atlanta, Georgia. She can be seen exactly where she always felt most content 

in Figure 14. 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 43 

 

My father immigrated to the U.S. from India in 1958 in pursuit of his Ph.D. 

His father and grandfather, my tata [grandfather] and muttata [great-grandfather], 

were farmers in a small village in the state of Karnataka in South India. Figure 

15 is of my father shortly before or after he came to the United States. After my 

great-grandfather died, my grandfather, still a young boy, was sent to live with a 

wealthy ayurvedic [Indian traditional medicine] doctor who paid for my 

grandfather’s schooling in return for the work my grandfather did in the doctor’s 

home. My tata ultimately became a physics professor at a university in Bangalore 

where he raised my father and my father’s six siblings. 

 
Figure 15. Jyoti’s father in his mid-twenties around the time he came to the U.S., circa 1958. All 
permissions granted. 



44          Testimonio y Teoría 

 

Figure 16. Jyoti’s mother in her early teens shortly after settling in Montana, circa 1955. All 
permissions granted. 

My mother, a white woman, was born in Arizona. Her family moved 

twenty-one times during her first ten years of life, living in various U.S. states 

and in mining camps in several South American countries, in particular in Brazil, 

where she became fluent in Portuguese. Her family finally landed in a small 

mining town in Montana where my mother graduated from high school before 

heading to northern California for college. Figure 16 is of my mother around the 

time they settled in Montana. Figure 17 and 18 are pictures of me and my 

maternal grandparents. 

 
Figure 17. Jyoti with her maternal grandmother, circa 1997. All permissions granted. 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 45 

 

 
Figure 18. Jyoti with her maternal grandfather, circa 1986. All permissions granted. 

 My parents met at Stanford University in the mid-1960s, married in 1968 

and moved to Atlanta, GA in 1970, three years after their interracial marriage was 

deemed legal in the state. Figure 19 is of my parents in their first home in Atlanta. 

My parents, a rare-for-the-time, mixed couple, settled in DeKalb County and 

raised me and my two sisters in a mostly English monolingual home. My father 

speaks at a minimum his mother tongue, Kannada, as well as Hindi, Tamil, some 

French and some Spanish. My mother lost her Portuguese but learned some 

Spanish and became nearly fluent in French.  

 
Figure 19. Jyoti’s parents shortly after moving to Atlanta, circa 1974. All permissions granted. 



46          Testimonio y Teoría 

Despite their multilingual abilities, my parents’ dominant mutual language 

was English which was the primary language in our home. Once, they brought in 

a Kannada language teacher into the house to teach the south Indian language of 

my father’s family, however, the classes were not for me and my sisters but for 

my mother and other interested members of the community. I longed to learn the 

language. Mesmerized by hearing Kannada, I would hide on the stairs to listen to 

the class. 

In my early childhood, we celebrated a few of the major Hindu holidays 

with our small Indian community group, the Kannada Koota. On these occasions 

I was able to put on my Indian culture like the blue silk chaniya choli dress I wore 

and try it on for size. 

 
Figure 20. Jyoti dressed in a blue, silk chaniya choli dress, circa 1986. All permissions granted. 

 We blessed ourselves with koomkooma, the red paste that we delicately 

place in the middle of our forehead representing the third, spiritual eye. We also 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 47 

 

recited singsong prayers to deities I knew little about in the Sanskrit language, a 

language that even the Indians present didn’t speak because it is considered a 

“dead” language and is relegated to Hindu religious scriptures and practices. 

“Kultuko” (sit) the aunties would tell me and Manish, one of my first Indian 

friends, gesturing for us to sit on the floor and eat our dinner and sweets on silver 

thali plates. Kultuko. Sit. One of only a few words in Kannada I knew growing 

up. I can be seen on one of these occasions in Figure 20. 

Despite not knowing my father’s language and not having a large Indian 

community nearby, my Indian heritage marked me. I was marked, not only on 

the outside, through my traditional Indian name or through my distinct brown 

skin and black hair against the backdrop of the mostly white neighborhood where 

we lived and the mostly white and black demographics of the city. My Indian 

heritage also marked me on the inside in terms of grappling with my cultural 

identity. I remember very distinctly, when taking a standardized test when I was 

eight years old, having to select a box, an identity box. My choices were black, 

white or other. I raised my hand and asked my teacher which box I should pick. 

She paused, long enough for me to realize that she too did not know which label 

I should select. She knew my mother was white, but white didn’t work for me. 

She knew my father was from India, but there was no label for that. She looked 

at me, seeing that I clearly did not match the physical categorization to select 

white or black. Somewhat flustered, she told me to pick “other.” It was in that 

moment that I became aware of my “other-ness.” Until then, I just knew I loved 

playing outside, being with my friends, and simply being a child. This experience 

of becoming an “other” at school profoundly impacted how I engaged at school 

and how I interacted with others outside of school. I developed the skill of a 

chameleon, blending in and adapting to those around me which meant that I was 



48          Testimonio y Teoría 

almost always leaving some part of me behind. Anzaldúa (2015) calls this act of 

being a chameleon being a nahual, the indigenous word for a shape shifter. Many 

times people of color, including children of transnationals, find that they shift 

between the layers of their identity as they move between the different worlds 

within which they exist. In many ways, this is what I did. Yet this shifting back 

and forth, while allowing us to seemingly move fluidly between worlds, can also 

have a fragmenting effect. Anzaldúa explains that as we shift into our different 

shapes in between our worlds, we can benefit from learning to dwell in la 

nepantla, that space that lies in the interstices in between our different worlds, a 

space where our contradicting identities dwell, and in dwelling in la nepantla we 

are able to embrace our wholeness.  

When I reflect on my childhood, I recall experiences that parallel 

Anzaldúa’s description of dwelling la nepantla. For example, in many Indian 

families, there are strict gender roles, strict when compared to more American 

gender roles. Growing up, while these strict gender roles were not enforced in my 

home, I was very aware of them. I found when I was with my few Indian family 

members, I felt tension between wanting to be seen as “Indian enough” but also 

not feeling genuine when I tried to fulfill what I thought was the gender role that 

was expected of me. I also struggled with not wanting to perform the more 

traditional Indian gender roles that from an American point of view seemed to 

have a degree of gender oppression. Over time, I have come to embrace the 

contradictions that exist among the typical gender roles in Indian and American 

cultures, a process that has at times felt uncomfortable or disingenuous, but 

embracing these contradictions and others has been one of the truest forms of 

embracing my wholeness. Though it is an iterative process, I have worked 

towards embracing my wholeness as authentically as I can while shifting between 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 49 

 

the different cultures in my life. As I remember my childhood and youth, 

particularly my time in school, I believe the adults and teachers could have done 

more to draw upon my shape-shifting abilities. In doing so, they would have also 

validated my wholeness and encouraged me to bring my entire self into the spaces 

within which I existed.  

I spent much of my childhood inventing my own language and studying 

different English accents which in retrospect, I now see was my way of trying to 

connect to my lost heritage language. It was as if my brain, my heart and my soul 

needed to connect to a language other than English. My make-believe play almost 

always had a character who spoke another language or was from a far-off land. 

 
Figure 21. Jyoti’s paternal grandparents in Bangalore, Karnataka, India, circa 1978. 

I was keenly aware that I had family living in India on the other side of the 

world. I have vivid memories of my own trip there to meet my family when I was 

eight. Figure 21 is one of my favorite photos of my paternal grandparents. I 

remember when I was there, one time my ajji (grandmother) snuck me coffee in 

her backyard patio. One time, I wanted a special rice pudding that is typical of 

South India. I asked my father how to ask for it and he instructed me to say, 

“Payasam, beku” (I want Payasam). However, when my American tongue tried 



50          Testimonio y Teoría 

to parse out those words, I clearly did not say it quite right because in response 

to what I said, Ajji reached on top of her refrigerator and brought me a metal can 

full of coins. I felt a rush of shame and embarrassment that I could not speak the 

language, and disappointment that the tin did not have the rich, creamy rice 

pudding I was craving. Upset, I ran my father and quickly the mystery was solved. 

I had said, “Paisa, beku” (I want coins). In that moment, I was keenly aware of 

the fact that while I felt a deep connection to India, and its culture and people, I 

would always be disconnected from it in some way because I did not know the 

language. Although the colors, smells and sounds of India were deeply imprinted 

in my consciousness, the void of not knowing my family’s language was 

profound, leaving a hole in my heart. I wish that I had had the opportunity to learn 

more about my heritage culture and language. What a gift it would have been if I 

could have connected to my culture and language, to my whole self, through 

school. I wish there had been an active engagement with my cultural knowledge 

and space for me to learn more deeply about where my father’s family came from. 

Instead, I mostly felt disconnected from the learning that occurred at school, often 

riddled with anxiety about performing well enough to please my teachers and my 

meet father’s high academic expectations. It wasn’t until much later and through 

Spanish language courses and studying abroad that I began to connect more 

deeply with my Indian heritage.  

In high school, we had to choose a language to study and I do not remember 

why I chose Spanish but doing so was a decision that would change my life. I 

studied Spanish in high school and in college. One of my college professors led 

a trip for students to Guadalajara, Jalisco in west central Mexico. Part of the 

program involved learning about the fraught relations between the U.S. and 

Mexico and understanding the push and pull factors of immigration. I decided to 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 51 

 

apply to go on this trip during my junior year in college. The moment I stepped 

off the plane in Guadalajara, I felt as if I was home. There was a connection 

between Mexico and India that I would not realize I was feeling until three years 

later when I returned to India for the first time after more than a decade. There 

was something deeply profound for me to be surrounded by people in Mexico 

who looked as if they could be in my family, to hear sounds and smell fragrances 

that paralleled those in Bangalore. I do not wish to essentialize either of these 

countries or cultures or over generalize their similarities, but there were personal 

connections in my experience that ignited a cultural and linguistic healing I could 

have never predicted. The overarching realization I had was that language, culture 

and identity matter and that we should allow students in schools the space to 

explore their cultural and linguistic heritages as well as support their cultural and 

linguistic maintenance. 

Puentes: Uniendo Vidas y Uniendo Comunidades 

 With the understanding that larger discourses on native speaker-ism (de 

Jong, 2011, García et al., 2012; Portes & Salas, 2015) and discourses on English 

as the official language lead to the fragmentation of transnational and 

multilingual communities and students, we must seek to change these dominant 

narratives. There are many linguistically and culturally diverse people in DeKalb 

County and they are deeply rooted. When considering our schools and education 

system, engaging in Culturally Relevant Pedagogy (CRP) and drawing on 

students’ funds of knowledge are but two significant ways in which school 

leaders and teachers can disrupt the fragmentation of students and cease 

perpetuating negative discourses (González et al., 2005; Ladson Billings, 2009).  

Ladson-Billings (2009) states that as part of CRP, teachers can help 

“students make connections between their community, national, and global 



52          Testimonio y Teoría 

identities” (p. 52). In doing so, teachers are taking a critical sociocultural 

approach to teaching and learning and making connections to larger discourses 

while foregrounding the identities of their students. Furthermore, Ladson-

Billings promotes relational teaching where relationships and building 

collaborative communities of learners are prominent in the classroom. As part of 

developing CRP in the classroom, teachers can draw on students’ funds of 

knowledge.  

González et al. (2005) explain that the ideas within the funds of knowledge 

project highlight the knowledge that students already have from the cultural ways 

of knowing in their homes and that teachers can draw upon these funds of 

knowledge to connect the students’ home and culture to school curriculum. Part 

of the funds of knowledge project includes teachers conducting home visits to 

learn directly from the families about their specific cultural practices. Cathy 

Amanti (2005) explains “[a]ll cultures are heterogeneous, and practices within a 

group will vary according to such factors as gender, religion, class and 

geographic location. This has major implications for the way educators should 

think about multicultural education” (p. 131). In this way, it is important that we 

do not essentialize the cultures and experiences of bilingual students but that we 

take the time to learn more about their specific lived experiences and tailor our 

lessons to them and their funds of knowledge (Tinker Sachs et al., 2008). 

Un Curriculum para Nosotros 

Jyoti, who did not grow up immersed in Indian cultural practices had a 

deep longing to connect to that side of her biculturalism. A CRP approach for a 

student similar to Jyoti could have provided her the opportunity to explore 

different Indian cultural practices or research the history of Indian immigration 

in the U.S. On the other hand, Christian grew up more deeply immersed in his 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 53 

 

Mexican culture. In this case, a teacher could have used a funds of knowledge 

approach to discover his family history coming from a Mexican rancho, his 

father’s profession as a concrete mason or his Spanish/English bilingual abilities. 

In response, a teacher could have pulled from any of these funds of knowledge to 

enhance his learning and ensure he felt represented and embraced in his school. 

In Table 2 we offer curriculum ideas that could be used to support students like 

Jyoti and Christian. The table is organized by content areas. We suggest that 

teachers start out as the students in their exploration of and preparation for the 

activities. When doing the activities in their classroom, teachers should allow 

students to be the experts when there is enough rapport and safe space created. 

Each class can open with a “check-in” where teachers allow time and safe space 

for students to share how they are doing. We also recommend teachers 

incorporate a multimodal and multiliteracy approach when doing these lessons, 

which could include skits, poetry, movement, visual art projects, etc. These types 

of multiliteracy, multimodal approaches have been suggested explicitly in some 

of the listed activities but could be used throughout all of the activities. 

  



54          Testimonio y Teoría 

Table 2 
A Curriculum for Us: Culturally Relevant and Funds of Knowledge Based 
Activities 
 

Content Area Theme/ 
Lesson 

Possible Activities 

Social Studies History & 
Identity 

As part of a US History course/lesson, explore the pre-
colonial and post-independence history, with a focus on the 
experiences of the various waves of immigration, viewed 
through a critical lens. Activities might include students 
researching their own family’s arrival to the US, researching 
the Native tribes that once lived on the land we currently live 
on. For Latinx students, research and lessons on Chicano 
studies and for Asian students, Asian American studies, can 
help students situate their histories and identities. Please bear 
in mind, some students’ families’ stories of arrival may have 
been traumatic, so it is important to do your own research as 
well. 

Social Studies History & 
Social Justice 

Research different social justice movements within the Asian 
and Latinx communities nationally and locally. Guest 
speakers could be invited virtually or in person. These 
activities give students the opportunities to understand the 
interconnected layers of systemic racism, discrimination, 
marginalization. Community work or service could be 
integrated so students could learn to see how the community 
is organizing to create positive change. The community work 
could be part of community service hours/project 

Social Studies Health & 
Spirituality 

Students explore the traditional spiritual, medicinal and other 
traditional practices that are part of their heritage. For 
example, Día de Los Muertos, Ayurvedic Medicine, 
traditional textile making, etc. For Social studies, this could 
explore the ways these practices bring the community 
together. 

Social Studies Personal 
Reflection on 
their Lived 
Experiences 

Have students keep a private journal that only the teacher 
reads and that they can voluntarily share from where they 
reflect on the impact the lessons have on their own growth 
and meaning making around their cultural identity. This 
information could be gained through academic research or 
through a funds of knowledge approach where both teacher 
and student are the learners investigating the local 
communities. 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 55 

 

ELA Literature & 
Identity 

Assign textbooks or books that are written by and for Latinx, 
Asian American and other children of transnational to help 
them see themselves represented in literature. Have students 
complete a personal narrative, testimonio, of their own lives 

ELA Creative 
Expression 

After reading and discussing important quotes from famous 
people from around the world, (examples: MLK, Nelson 
Mandela, Thich Nhat Hanh, Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta, 
Arundhati Roy), have students work in groups to create a skit 
or poem that captures their reaction to one quote in particular. 
After skit or poem presentations, have students write written 
reflections about their experience, particularly the affective 
experience. 

ELA Language, 
Identity & 
Heritage 

Create activities in AP Spanish classes for students who are 
children of transnationals with heritage from a Spanish 
speaking country where the students can explore their 
heritage culture as well as how they navigate their sense of 
identity being from both the US and from their heritage 
culture, for example Mexico and the U.S., using texts that talk 
about the borderland. These activities can also be done in 
ELA classrooms. Activities could have students read selected 
texts and then create skits, poems, movement, visual art, etc. 
that represents their response. The students could reflect on 
their experience through a short writing activity 

ELA/Foreign 
Language 

Personal 
Reflection on 
their Lived 
Experiences 

Provide students the opportunity to write their own personal 
narratives, this could be done as an assignment or part of their 
personal journals 

STEM/ 
STEAM 

Research & 
Presentation 

Project based learning in STEM or STEAM that is based on 
STEM related accomplishments from 
scientists/engineers/artists from other countries or research 
what industries your students’ families work in using a funds 
of knowledge approach and incorporate lessons based on 
your findings.  

STEM/ 
STEAM 

Art, Culture 
& Science 

Learn about art and artists from students' heritage cultures, 
explore how in many other cultures, art, science and math are 
often intertwined. Give students the opportunity to create 
pieces of art inspired by these artists. This information could 
be gained through academic research or through a funds of 
knowledge approach where both teacher and student are the 
learners investigating the local communities. 



56          Testimonio y Teoría 

STEM/ 
STEAM 

Health & 
Spirituality 
(Same as the 
social studies 
lesson) 

Students could explore the traditional spiritual, medicinal and 
other traditional practices that are part of their heritage. For 
example, Día de Los Muertos, Ayurvedic Medicine, 
traditional textile making, etc. For STEAM classes, this could 
look at the science and art integrated in these traditions. This 
information could be gained through academic research or 
through a funds of knowledge approach where both teacher 
and student are the learners investigating the local 
communities. 

STEM/ 
STEAM 

Community 
& Personal 
Reflection 

Have organizations and companies talk to students that speak 
more than one language, and how bilingualism and 
biculturalism will support students personally and 
professionally. Students can reflect after the presentations on 
how they want to use their language and culture and how they 
are important to them 
 

 

La Experiencia de Escribir Nuestros Tesimonios 

Christian  

Writing my testimonio for this paper allowed me to reflect on the journey 

that my parents took to give me and my siblings a better life. Their daily struggles 

and sacrifices have given me this opportunity to share their story, our story, now 

30 years in the making. Our  story is a very familiar one not only within my 

extended family, but also in our communities and throughout the United States. 

We each have  our own unique chapter in this story, and it is a story in search of 

the American dream. Writing this paper reminded me that I am forever in debt to 

my parents and that I will always carry their hard work, love and  sacrifices with 

me. This brief narrative is one way that I can show my parents my gratitude for 

their sacrifices, though I am very aware that whatever I accomplish may never 

fully convey the depth of how grateful I am for all they have done for us. My 

parents and the life they built for us are what keeps me rooted in my culture, in 

my language, and in my professional endeavors. Without my parents’ views on 



Kaneria and Valdez                                                                                                 57 

 

education and their faith in my future, my dream to go to college and ultimately 

become a teacher would have stayed in a high school classroom. 

Jyoti 

Writing this paper, particularly the testimonio, was a combination of 

feeling vulnerable in the openness of sharing and feeling powerful in the rawness 

of personal reflection. I grappled with the middle-class privilege I lived growing 

up and the profound sense I often had of not belonging. I felt sadness, joy, and 

nostalgia all at once as I thought about all that both my parents did for us growing 

up as well as when I looked deeply at the limitations within their own human-

ness. I also became keenly aware of my imperfections as a daughter, sister, wife, 

mother while also seeing the beauty of my life story. I realize that we all have 

multiple stories within our lived experiences and I felt this paper was one place 

where I could share one of mine. I have always learned very much from hearing 

other people's stories and it is my humble hope that our stories in this paper can 

bring comfort to others who identify with our experiences. It was powerful for 

me to go through family photos and reflect on the life that I have lived and 

cathartic to put it into words and share it with the world. 

Conclusión 

DeKalb County is deeply diverse. Its communities are rich with language 

and culture. We have a long history of transnationals choosing to live in the area 

and growing deep roots. Members of these transnational communities have assets 

that mainstream community leaders and teachers can draw upon not only for the 

benefit of the entire county, but also to demonstrate commitment to the wholeness 

of these communities. When we can embrace the wholeness of those who have 

been historically fragmented and marginalized, we can all begin to heal from the 



58          Testimonio y Teoría 

legacies of colonization, such as fragmentation, so we can see clearly who we 

are. With this clarity we can deepen connections and begin to imagine where we 

can grow and transform. It is our hope that this brief glimpse into our lives 

growing up in DeKalb and our ideas for drawing on transnational students’ assets 

will inspire community leaders and educators to dig deep into the communities 

around them and support us where we are now. Bridges connect us and give a 

pathway to travel on together, in community. 

 

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