In Atienza’s class in Queens, New York, culture-shocked (and sometimes shell-shocked) students who speak zero English not only master a new language, they’re also helped by people they consider enemies back in their homeland.

Atienza studied at De La Salle University and has been teaching English to immigrants for two decades. This year, he became the first Filipino immigrant to receive The New York Times Teacher of the Year award in teaching English for Speakers of Other Languages (Esol). He won it in March and spoke with the Inquirer when he visited the Philippines in late April.

He recalled a class with Afghans and Russians glaring at each other. Then there were students fresh from war-ravaged Bosnia, who refused to speak to one another. “The class was divided into two. You (could) really feel their hatred toward each other,” he says.

With some coaxing, warring classmates set aside their past grief and became friends. After all, they were Americans now, he reminded them.

More recently, a Tibetan and a Chinese bonded over the recent clashes in Lhasa in Atienza’s class. Said the Chinese to the Tibetan worried sick about her family: “I’m sorry.”

Played out in Atienza’s classroom in the Queens Library and in the YMCA Center, these little dramas underscore his ability to reach out to his students. The classroom is not just a place of learning, but also a place for healing.

Students pour their hearts out to him. He’s not only their mentor but their first friend in a strange land. He says his method is a blend of linguistic techniques and compassion which he describes as very Filipino and very Christian.

Atienza is also is a member of the Focolare Movement, which lives a Gospel verse each month. And he swears by a tried-and-tested method of compassion and kindness. He calls it “skinship” - a teaching approach underpinned by genuine love and concern for students. Its techniques are a warm smile, a sincere handshake, an encouraging nod, an open and tolerant mind, a word of praise for pronouncing ‘thank you’ perfectly, he says.

“What are these but building blocks of hope—the very foundations of trust? In the Esol classroom, without trust, without compassion, without love, there is no meaningful learning,” he adds.

As for teaching language, Atienza says he helps his students learn the English alphabet by “importing” kindergarten textbooks from Manila which teach basic letter construction. He also recommends that his students read anything written in English like newspapers, lottery tickets and restaurant menus.

How he fell in love with teaching

Atienza said he “fell in love” with teaching after his stint in Bataan province, where Cambodian and Vietnamese refugees would stop over for a few months to learn English before proceeding to the United States. If his heart weren’t in it, he would have gone to other, more lucrative professions, he adds. “Teachers, wherever they are, don’t get rich.” A housekeeper’s paycheck is bigger than an Esol teacher’s, he notes.

Teaching Refugees

Atienza received his English as a Second Language (ESL/CO) teacher training at the Southeast Asian Refugee Program in the Philippines, a joint project of the UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) and ICMC (International Catholic Migration Commission), funded by the US State Department.

It was while on vacation in New York City that he realized the city needed Esol teachers for immigrants. “I enjoyed teaching here (Philippines). But when I went there (New York), I saw the need,” he said.

After years of teaching English to college students and displaced Southeast Asians coming to the United States, he migrated to New York City in 1985. New York is a bright point in the immigrant imagination because of its history as a gateway to America and the American Dream. It was a logical choice for an Esol teacher like Atienza, and made leaving the Philippines easier.

In the speech he delivered when he won the award, he spoke of recognizing that more than anything, learning the English language one word at a time is the first step to realizing an immigrant’s dream of a rosy future in the United States.

“Willingly or unwillingly, we all came to America, and our search for hope began in the Esol classroom. In the Esol classroom, the teachers and the students keep hope alive. Without hope, dreams die,” says Atienza.

The award is not only a personal recognition, he remarks. It recognizes all teachers in the Philippines and abroad. It should erase the stigma that Filipino teachers can’t teach English abroad, he says.

He adds that sometimes, Filipinos are more capable of teaching the language than native English-speakers. Sometimes students understand Filipino teachers more easily than American teachers, whose pronunciations are slurred by regional accents and twangs.

When the New York Times announced that he won the award, it featured Atienza’s photograph on a full-page ad. Beneath the photograph was a white space. Friends who saw the ad said that was a waste of space. But not for Atienza – that white space, he says, is for all Filipino teachers.

He expresses optimism that the Philippines will become a hub for English language teaching. Reports that Filipino fluency in the language has been slipping is news to him.

“It’s a bit sad,” he says, noting that decades ago, the country was the No. 1 English-speaking nation in Asia.

Atienza says he hopes the award will allow him to pursue projects with local English teachers.

He’s thinking of setting up an exchange program to promote English literacy between Esol teachers in the United States and in the Philippines.

He also wants to set up a Filipino language center in New York because Filipino immigrants want their children to learn their native language.