STAND Student voices

A Digital Space Dedicated to Uplifting Student Voices in the Fight for Education Equity

Featured Student Voice: Josephine Hong-Goranin

Image Not Found

Josephine Hong-Goranin is a rising senior at Germantown Friends School. Having attended both public and private schools, she has developed an interest in literacy, multilingual education, and the ways schools can better serve their students. Outside of school, she rows competitively, sings in a choir and an a cappella group, bakes very good brownies, and loves to read.

What Makes ESL Support Effective?

At my school, junior year includes a month-long independent project—the Junior Project. For my junior project, I wanted to understand how schools support students who are learning English. My father immigrated from Poland when he was entering first grade and received ESL support right away. His brother, two and a half years younger, did not receive those supports and the differences in their education journeys showed how important those supports are. My dad went on to get straight A’s and win academic honors and awards. His brother had a more difficult relationship with school. Their experiences are not proof that ESL support determines a student’s future, but they showed me how much early support can matter.

I spent the month visiting three Philadelphia elementary schools (Schools A, B, and C), observing ESL classrooms and working with students. I went into the project expecting to find a clear answer to a straightforward question: What makes ESL support effective?

There was no clear answer.

One of the main decisions schools face is what model of instruction to use. ESL support generally takes one of two forms: push-in or pull-out instruction. In a push-in model, ESL teachers go into general education classrooms to support ELLs during regular instruction. In a pull-out model, ELLs are removed from the classroom to receive one-on-one or group instruction, which may mirror or differ from the content in the classes they miss. So which one is better?

School A used an exclusively pull-out framework. ESL students were pulled out of their regular classrooms every day and taught in smaller groups based on their approximate English proficiency. I saw a clear advantage to this model: the teacher could focus entirely on the students in front of her. There were fewer distractions, and lessons could move at a pace that made sense for the group.

But at School B, the school’s highest-need English learners were placed together in one classroom and spent essentially their entire school day with the same teacher. They received consistent language support, but they were also separated from most of the other students in their grade. During grade-wide activities, these students appeared disconnected from the larger school community.

School C used a dual push-in and pull-out approach depending on students’ assessed needs. Students were placed into tiers based on their assessed needs, and the amount of ESL support they received varied. Some students received both push-in and pull-out instruction, while students who needed less support received it less frequently. Teachers at School C still expressed a preference for pull-out sessions, as they were able to give more individualized instruction, control the content covered, and saw more results.

Seeing the three models side by side changed how I thought about the push-in versus pull-out debate. I had initially expected one approach to clearly work better. Instead, I saw that each solved a different problem. Pull-out instruction gave teachers more time and control to target language skills. Push-in instruction allowed students to stay with their classmates and participate fully in the general education classroom.

The structure of ESL instruction was not the only learning challenge. The curriculum was another. School A and School B both expressed discontent with their curriculum and textbooks. Teachers at School A, which used the Teaching ELLs for Academic Language Mastery (TEAM) curriculum and books, said that the textbook limited ELLs and their creativity when the students were capable of so much more. Additionally, confusing topics and exercises were randomly thrown in, making it challenging to keep a straightforward curriculum. Supplemental worksheets, activities, and assignments were needed. As one teacher at School A said, “It’s so obvious these books were not written by someone who actually understands ELLs.” The ESL teacher at School B expressed a similar sentiment, saying that the INSIDE textbook that she uses has “dumb”, “confusing”, and “non-engaging” activities and explanations. “It’s a good baseline,” she said, “but it’s limiting.”

Watching that made me think that an effective ESL program cannot depend entirely on a textbook. Teachers need enough flexibility to change a lesson when the students in front of them need something different. Rather than treating the curriculum as a fixed set of lessons that every student must follow, teachers should be able to use it as a starting point and adjust it based on what their students actually need. This would give teachers more control over the classroom and make instruction more responsive, especially when students are progressing at different rates or struggling with particular skills.

Beyond the structure and curriculum of ESL instruction, schools also face a more fundamental challenge. At all three schools, educators described the difficulty of determining whether a student’s academic struggles were caused by limited English proficiency or by another learning need. I saw why that could be so difficult. A student who struggles to understand a reading assignment may simply need more time to develop their English skills. But the same struggle could also indicate a reading comprehension difficulty that ESL instruction alone will not solve. Educators told me that, in many cases, schools could not determine the root cause until students had spent several years in the program. By that point, significant time and resources had already been invested without addressing the student’s actual needs.

If a student continues to struggle after receiving ESL support, educators should have a process for determining whether the difficulty is primarily linguistic or whether additional academic intervention may be necessary. This could include regularly reviewing a student’s progress, comparing performance across different subjects, and having ESL and general education teachers work together to identify patterns in the student’s difficulties. Most importantly, these decisions should be revisited over time rather than being based on a single test or observation. Earlier identification could prevent students from spending years receiving support that does not fully address the source of their difficulties.

After a month of observing these classrooms, I did not come away with one perfect answer to my question. Instead, I learned that effective support depends on how well schools respond to the individual students in front of them. The best program is not necessarily push-in or pull-out, but one that can adapt its instruction, group students thoughtfully, give teachers the flexibility to use materials that work, and recognize when a student needs support beyond learning English.

Instead, I saw how much depends on getting the details right: grouping students at appropriate proficiency levels, balancing push-in and pull-out instruction, giving teachers curriculum they can actually use, and recognizing when a student’s struggles may go beyond learning English. Effective ESL support is ultimately about making sure that learning English does not become a barrier to getting the education a student deserves.

STAND Student voices

A Digital Space Dedicated to Uplifting Student Voices in the Fight for Education Equity

Featured Student Voice: Lisa Cho

Image Not Found

Lisa Cho is a rising junior from San Diego that enjoys writing everything from research to storytelling. Through sharing her vulnerable experiences, she hopes to make one more person feel seen, heard, and less alone while encouraging readers to view familiar issues from a new perspective.

Why Do You Have Accommodations?


I have heard this question countless times, and no two people ask it the same way. Some put weight on why, wondering what disability or illness makes me “deserve” accommodations. Others lean on the word you, questioning how someone with such achievements could need accommodations at all. To them, accommodations mean one of two things: either I am incapable, or I am receiving an unfair advantage.


Accommodations are legally protected supports that remove barriers and provide students with disabilities equal access to education. They are not one-size-fits-all, because every disability creates different barriers. Researchers Allyson Harrison and Irene Armstrong argue that extra time on tests has become a routine accommodation in many postsecondary institutions. It may be the most recognizable accommodation, but not all accommodations are about time. Modified participation requirements let a student with social anxiety pursue courses that match their interests and abilities, rather than whether they can demonstrate learning in one specific way. With preferential seating, autistic students can focus on learning instead of becoming overwhelmed by sights, sounds, or classroom activity.

Because of narcolepsy, I face a choice when an assignment is due at midnight: rush through it and sacrifice my learning, or stay up and lose the sleep I need to focus on the next day. Extended deadlines let me try my best without chasing the clock. Walking between classes, drowsiness can turn dangerous in an instant. Flexible breaks allow me to go to the health office and return to class safely, ready to learn. But more than anything, accommodations make me feel understood. My behaviors stopped being read as choices and started being recognized as symptoms. I want my teachers to know how much I value the time, energy, and passion they pour into teaching.

In the article Accommodation Nation, Rose Horowitch writes that wealthy families have turned accommodations into another admissions advantage and put the entire idea of fairness at risk. But abuse of the system doesn’t erase why it exists. People commit tax fraud, yet we don’t eliminate taxes because of it. More often, the greater problem is stigma. When the entire system gets judged by the actions of a few, those who genuinely rely on them pay the price.

During AP Physics, my classmates were discussing how they could help each other on a test while others criticized them for cheating. Their words weren’t directed at me, but they didn’t have to be. Every “You’re too smart” and “You’re so lucky” from my peers echoed in my head. I began to wonder if I belonged in the same category as the classmates swapping answers. My thoughts spiraled. Without my accommodations, would I still earn the grade I got? If not, did that mean I didn’t belong here?

The calculator on the Calculus exam doesn’t give the answer. It removes the barrier of tedious arithmetic so the exam measures what it intends to measure: your understanding of calculus. Accommodations work the same way. Using them didn’t make me a cheater.

Then I asked myself a different question. Why had I taken Physics in the first place? I wanted to be there for the lectures that sparked my curiosity, to push myself academically, the chance to learn from and alongside my classmates, and the group projects that brought us together. Having accommodations didn’t make me any less deserving of those experiences. My disability was invisible—that didn’t make it any less real.

My best friend told me her parents didn’t want her to receive accommodations for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) since they only exist in the classroom. They believed that support would leave their daughter dependent, less capable, and unprepared for the real world. This misconception is common. A national study of U.S. medical students found that nearly one in five students who reported needing accommodations never requested them, despite acknowledging they needed assistance. By contrast, only 2% of requests were denied.

Yet the real world isn’t free of accommodations. It’s built on accessibility. We walk through automatic doors, listen to audiobooks, and turn on closed captions without a second thought. When accessibility can’t meet every need, accommodations ensure people can still participate fully. Neither is a shortcut; they’re simply different ways of creating access.

In seventh grade, I boarded a plane listening to the alphabet song on repeat and downloading Duolingo. By the time I landed at LAX, I knew the letters A through G and how to say “Hi, my name is Lisa.” The language barrier began to fade through teachers who spoke clearly and slowly and chose simple words. I mispronounced words. I put sentences together backward. My classmates, who would later become my closest friends, met every mistake with patience instead of laughter. Slowly, I found my voice. Whether the barrier is language or disability, support doesn’t make the path easier—it makes the path possible.

Because of those accommodations, I have been able to pursue my education and keep working toward my dreams. My disability is part of me, but it doesn’t define my intelligence, effort, or potential. If anything, it gave me something I might never have gained otherwise: empathy for struggles that can’t always be seen. A disability doesn’t make someone any less able; it simply casts a shadow over what they’re capable of. And support lets that ability shine.

So the next time someone asks, “Why do you have accommodations?” I hope they pause before assuming the answer is weakness or unfairness. Every student deserves to learn in an environment where support is met with understanding instead of suspicion. Maybe the better question was never why a student receives support, but what barrier that support is helping remove.

STAND Student voices

A Digital Space Dedicated to Uplifting Student Voices in the Fight for Education Equity

Featured Student Voice: Hana Terpstra

Image Not Found

Hana Terpstra is a current senior in high school with a focus in art and design and a love for storytelling. She believes community and learning how to learn are vital, and hopes that all future students get to learn these values.

Making sure all kids get to learn important topics like these, as well as skills like connection and a desire to learn, is a message I’d love to help spread. My main interest is in the arts; Almost all of them, from sewing to writing to painting to drawing. Recently, I have been looking into art applications for colleges and art-based scholarships, and I came to realization that I don’t really know which art I want to focus in. The whole college search is a very anxiety-causing process, but this specific fear, that I have to make decisions about my future when I don’t even know what I want to do yet, was the most looming of all.

Then I thought about one of the most defining books for me- Scott Mccloud’s “Understanding Comics”. In it, he describes the art of making comics like an apple- (though perhaps an onion is more accurate) with different layers. From the outside in, it goes surface, craft, structure, idiom, form, idea/purpose. The metaphor works for the entirety of art as well; Starting out, most people’s art is “surface level”, then as their craft develops they begin to play with structure, genre, what form the art takes, and the central idea of the whole thing. I am fascinated with that last one; the question of “Why am I doing this?” Though my art is just “surface”, the concept of a reason is appealing.

Taking this idea in mind, and my anxiety over looming portfolio requirements, I created an experiment. I would try and find my “reason” the best way I knew how – through research – and then use that new information in my art. A piece of visual art advice I always get is “draw from real life, not from others art – at least to start.” This is given because learning how to see the world and communicate it through your own lens is critical in defining your style – but perhaps, it also could be critical in find an interest, a reason.

So I took to the internet and began to research, putting what I found into a slideshow presentation. Then, I came to another realization. The skills I had learned in school, from reading material to advice from my art teachers, even from science projects and English reports – they were vital for this project. I used my friend, a fellow art student, to keep me on track to my goal. Even the purpose of my search- curiosity, questioning- was something taught in school! I was using these skills to my benefit in my craft, something I hadn’t noticed before. I am very lucky. If I didn’t have the opportunities I had in middle and high school, my visual library, skills, and connections would be much worse. I wouldn’t have had the interest in learning, in reading books, in finding advice, in keeping motivation to stick through a big project like this – if I didn’t have the desire to learn.

And that is something education instilled in me. Heck, even now, writing this, I am using foreshadowing and formatting in an essay-like structure. It’s not just about the topics in school – though those are certainly helpful as well – but the skills. And just now, going into my last year of high school, I’m starting to understand what my teachers have been saying all along – the skills you build here will help carry you through life later. Carrying this knowledge with me makes me feel a little more prepared for life. Even if I don’t know where I’m going, I know I have the skills to get there.