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For millions of parents who don鈥檛 speak English, navigating their child鈥檚 school system can be a behemoth undertaking. They are constantly getting important missives from school鈥攆rom field trip permission slips to report cards to information about college applications or financial aid鈥攖hat they may not understand.

It鈥檚 a reality that Marifer Sager is working to change in the Portland, Ore., school district as the senior manager of the language-access-services and multicultural affairs department. Sager oversees translation services for the 47,000-student district, which is home to families that speak more than 130 languages.

In that role, she makes sure that all districtwide written communications go out in the five most prominent non-English languages that are spoken at home鈥擲panish, Vietnamese, Chinese, Somali, and Russian鈥攁nd that those missives are clear and culturally appropriate. She oversees a group of translators who work directly with families. And she is constantly brainstorming new ways to make sure that parents who don鈥檛 speak English receive the same information as English-speaking families at the same time.

鈥淲e need to make sure that we鈥檙e communicating with families in the language that they understand and they feel more comfortable with,鈥� Sager said. 鈥淚 truly believe that having language access can make a whole difference in how a situation is going to end. 鈥� It鈥檚 transformational.鈥�

After all, as Sager often says, language is a human and civil right. Everyone deserves to be able to access necessary information about their children, and when schools make sure the systems are in place to make that happen, it can improve student and family outcomes. But too often, she said, parents who don鈥檛 speak English are left to feel like an afterthought鈥攚hich may lead them to disengage from the school community or be less likely to speak up about what their child needs.

Sager鈥檚 work is personal. She is from Puebla, Mexico, where she went to law school. She immigrated twice as an adult鈥攆irst to Canada and then to the United States, where she became a citizen last spring. She speaks Spanish, English, and French fluently now, but she didn鈥檛 always. And she vividly remembers what it felt like to be in a room where she knew people were talking about her, but she didn鈥檛 know what they were saying.

鈥淏eing in that medical appointment and not being able to understand what is said about my health and having to trust someone else?鈥� Sager said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not a nice place to be, let me tell you that.鈥�

She understands firsthand how deeply important language is to immigrant families: 鈥淚 have been removed from my own culture, I speak English most of the day, I鈥檓 [immersed] into American culture, but the one thing that is not going away and I have passed on to my daughter is my language,鈥� she said. 鈥淲hile my customs may have changed, my language still remains something that I use on a regular basis, and I consider it core to my identity.鈥�

That lived experience has helped secure the trust of many non-English-speaking families in the district. (Sixteen percent of students speak a native language that鈥檚 not English. About 8 percent of them speak Spanish, 1.8 percent speak Vietnamese, 1.2 percent speak Chinese, 0.7 percent speak Somali, and 0.6 percent speak Russian.)

Sager facilitates many community events, and she said it puts parents at ease when they hear her accent and understand that she鈥檚 not judgmental of anyone who doesn鈥檛 speak English. Instead, she said, parents come to realize that Sager has a multicultural vision of the world.

鈥淢arifer has completely shifted the culture of how our families and caregivers and staff access language-interpretation and -translation services for our students and families in the district,鈥� said Cynthia Vel谩squez, a special education program administrator for high school intensive-skills classrooms. 鈥淢arifer鈥檚 work is all based in social justice and equity and acknowledging the civil rights of our students who speak a language other than English. 鈥� I appreciate her voice, her advocacy for families, and her ability to ask questions when others do not.鈥�

Conveying the message, not just the words

The first rule of translating pertinent district information for families? 鈥淣ever do Google translation,鈥� Sager said emphatically. Her work would be considered transcreation鈥攊nstead of a direct translation of words in English, Sager鈥檚 team works to convey the same tone and message.

For example, a notice in English that says something like, 鈥淲elcome, go check in at the front desk!鈥� could sound rude if translated directly in a language like Russian. Instead, the language-access team will add some context and politeness markers, such as: 鈥淲elcome to PPS! Please stop by our front desk to check in.鈥�

Regional context matters, too: The Vietnamese community in Portland has been there for a long time, and there can be variations in how they speak compared to what鈥檚 spoken in Vietnam. District translators must be aware of those nuances in language.

鈥淢aybe the phrase that we鈥檙e using in English is not the best way of saying it in other languages,鈥� Sager said. 鈥淲e try to make sure we鈥檙e talking in the right tone to the right audience. 鈥� I try to collaborate with [other educators in the district] on how to stop images and words from presentations that could be oppressive or could be demeaning to a community.鈥�

The district鈥檚 language-access-services staff has developed strong relationships with different communities, Sager said, allowing them the opportunity to check in with, say, Vietnamese or Chinese elders to make sure that any district communication is clear and appropriate.

Sager oversees six full-time staff members (two of them speak Spanish, and the rest speak the other district-supported languages of Vietnamese, Chinese, Russian, and Somali). They convey messages from parents to school leaders. She also supervises two administrative staffers, and 10 part-time translators, two for each supported language. The district contracts with vendors to support access to additional languages, particularly for parent-teacher conferences and special education meetings.

That kind of robust district-level support is so important for teachers and principals, said Alma Vel谩zquez, the principal at Jason Lee Elementary. About 40 to 50 percent of her students have parents who don鈥檛 speak English. They鈥檙e mostly Spanish or Vietnamese speakers, and while Vel谩zquez and other staff members at the school speak Spanish, there wasn鈥檛 until recently a Vietnamese-speaking employee who worked there.

A recent incident at the school shows just what鈥檚 at stake for multilingual communications: A teacher accidentally marked a Vietnamese student absent one day, triggering an automatic phone call to the student鈥檚 family that their child was not in school. The child鈥檚 parents were alarmed because they had sent their child on the bus that day. They didn鈥檛 speak English, so they couldn鈥檛 call the school and clear up the mistake鈥攊nstead, they showed up at the school, confused and worried.

Vel谩zquez was able to call the district鈥檚 language-access line and immediately get an interpreter, who reassured the family that the phone call was a clerical mistake and their child was safe and in school.

The experience was troubling, but it could have been worse without the language-access-services department, Vel谩zquez said. It also reaffirmed the importance of making sure parents have all the information about their children that they need. Sager has worked with Vel谩zquez to make sure that her school鈥檚 newsletter can be sent in three languages: English, Spanish, and Vietnamese.

That kind of planning ahead is critical because not all schools have someone on staff who can provide on-demand translation, Vel谩zquez said. 鈥淲ith [Marifer] at the helm of the language-access department in our district, a lot of these things are prepared ahead of time. [She is] thoughtful and predictive of the needs of our families.鈥�

A tool kit for making sense of special education

Another cornerstone of Sager鈥檚 work: translating the complex special education process to make it more accessible and to empower families to speak up on behalf of their children. Terms like 鈥渋ndividualized education program,鈥� 鈥渓east restrictive environment,鈥� and 鈥渄esignated instruction services鈥� are not always intuitively understood.

鈥淪pecial education is a culture in itself,鈥� Sager said. 鈥淓ven if you speak English beautifully, Ph.D. level, if you get into [a meeting] and you start getting the terminology, the jargon, 鈥� you鈥檙e going to be a little bit uncomfortable and lost. Add to that the burden of maybe you don鈥檛 have the level of education, maybe you don鈥檛 speak the language, maybe you don鈥檛 have this system in your country to begin with.鈥�

Her department is so involved in special education that some language-access specialists have attended more IEP meetings than other educators in the district, providing them with a wealth of experience and knowledge that helps them put families at ease during difficult conversations.

And to make the process even more accessible, Sager worked with the special education department to develop a Multilingual Special Education Family Toolkit, which is a set of cards with universal graphics and plain language that walks families through the special education process. The tool kit, which launched in February 2020, consists of a special education overview, a road map for the evaluation and IEP process, eligibility cards that describe all the disability categories in the district, and cards describing available placement and services.

鈥淲hen we utilize the tool kit with families whose primary language is not English, it helps the family conceptualize the process of special education visually and also helps them be part of the team and create meaningful participation,鈥� said Vel谩squez, who was one of the special education department staff who came up with the concept. 鈥淚t can be very difficult and confusing looking at a stack of papers and being asked to sign and put an X in the box, especially if you don鈥檛 understand what is going to happen next. The tool kit is the beginning of a way to make things visual.鈥�

The tool kit also makes the special education identification process a little less scary, Sager said.

She was recently in a special education meeting with a family who spoke Mayan and a little Spanish. Their child had been receiving special education services for four years, but when the mother read one of the cards in the tool kit, she started crying, saying, 鈥淪o this is what my kid has? All this time, I thought what鈥檚 going on was way worse.鈥�

鈥淚t was a moment that was so grounding for everybody,鈥� Sager said.

A culture of listening and responding

Sager鈥檚 colleagues say that she鈥檚 created a culture where it鈥檚 not acceptable to send out any materials to parents that are not available in the five district-supported languages. At times during the pandemic, district staff wanted to send out urgent missives to families before the translations were ready. But Sager is adamant: 鈥淲e cannot release anything until it鈥檚 translated,鈥� she said. 鈥淚f that means to wait another hour or two hours, then we do it and we do it right, because everyone is equally important, and we need to make sure they have that content.鈥�

Last year, Sager surveyed community members to understand what they needed from the district. She learned that most immigrant and refugee families were accessing the internet on their phones. They found the images and videos on the district鈥檚 main website to be distracting and were frustrated when they had to download PDFs on their phones because they didn鈥檛 know where the file went.

In response, Sager鈥檚 department that鈥檚 available in English, Spanish, Vietnamese, Chinese, Russian, and Somali. It鈥檚 bare bones, with no pictures or graphics. The website lets families select their child鈥檚 school and see the available academic supports, social-emotional supports, and family supports, which can include transportation and school meals. There are social media share buttons for each resource, including one for WhatsApp, the messaging app that鈥檚 popular in immigrant communities.

Parents love it, Sager said, because it gives them all the information they need in a way that鈥檚 easy to understand and access. She鈥檚 working to create a new section for community resources, like clothing drives and rental assistance.

That kind of collaborative, responsive approach to language-access services is essential to the district鈥檚 equity goals, said Superintendent Guadalupe Guerrero. Non-English-speaking parents, he said, need to feel supported and prioritized, just as native English speakers do.

鈥淚t鈥檚 not just translating documents, it鈥檚 actually hitting the streets and making sure that families, wherever they鈥檙e at, are aware鈥� of the resources available to them, Guerrero said. 鈥淢arifer is a tenacious advocate for non-native English-speaking families and communities. She consistently reminds us that the vision that we have for our school district applies to every student and family. I appreciate that she sees her work not as a transactional exercise, but that fundamentally, it鈥檚 about empowerment.鈥�

Sager鈥檚 long-term goal is to expand the number of district-supported languages so that more parents are empowered to advocate for their children. To do so, she will have to contend with limited resources and competing district priorities鈥攂ut Sager鈥檚 passion for the work drives her, as does her memory of what it was like living in a place where she didn鈥檛 speak the language.

鈥淚 see the opportunity to transform a system,鈥� she said. 鈥淚magine that mom who wasn鈥檛 able to understand what was happening [with her child receiving special education services] and how that dynamic changed at home [after she learned the truth]. It was something so little that we鈥檙e doing鈥攊n reality, we could be doing so much more鈥攁nd just that little thing created that big of an impact.

鈥淚 think of the families that come to the website and say, 鈥極h, I was able to understand鈥攎y school does have mental health services, and now my student can receive those services.鈥� I mean, honestly, it鈥檚 transformative. There鈥檚 no other word for me.鈥�