The Arrival of the Newcomer at School: experienced difficulties

The arrival of foreign students into the school arena raises a myriad of questions concerning the forms of sociability already established there, both among students themselves and between students and other figures who inhabit the school setting. The construction of the common (in the plural) is a necessary condition not only for the school to fulfill its mandated goals of learning and civic education, but also to provide students with a positive and enriching experience. Yet the “common” is far from being a definitive or guaranteed achievement; rather, it requires a continuous process of adjustment and readjustment in the coordination of collective action.

Now, the arrival of the newcomer challenges those modes of coordination and participation in the common that are already in practice among native students, as it brings with it novelty and unpredictability, elements that must be accommodated within school conviviality. This initial impact is mentioned by all the young people interviewed. Indeed, they report a variety of difficulties they experienced firsthand during their early days in the Portuguese school system, regardless of whether they have since overcome them or not.

One of the main difficulties mentioned concerns the very process of learning the content taught. Jordana⁴ is Brazilian and, at the time of the interview, had been in Portugal for one month. Nevertheless, that was sufficient time for her to note that she “feels a great deal of difficulty.” As she puts it, “with the subjects, I feel like I'm from another world, like I’m in a very intelligent world [...]. And I end up feeling kind of different.” Jordana draws a comparison between the education system in her country of origin and in her host country to explain her learning delay in relation to her peers: “I arrived and the teacher said, ‘So, what topic were you studying back in Brazil?’ and I didn’t even know how to say which topic I had stopped at. Because there, we don’t really have that level of... [...], it’s not that clear.” The student perceives the teaching style in Portugal as unfamiliar. As a result, she says, “I feel a bit out of place in terms of the content, when they teach it, and I’m like, ‘they practically know everything,’ and I’m lost.” The vocabulary she uses – “out of place,” “lost” – is striking and clearly signals the obstacles the student experiences.

Consider the case of Kizua⁵: in Angola, where he is originally from, “I studied at a [...] very good private school.” Upon arriving in Portugal and enrolling in a public school, he quickly realized “that it was different.” Referring to his current school, he notes, “in terms of teaching, it’s much better. Back in Angola, I used to get top marks. I was the best in my class.” Kizua has no doubt that education in Portugal is more demanding, presenting challenges he was not used to facing. But this is not solely due to the level of academic rigor: “what complicated things the most for me was Geography, because everything was different. Over there, we talked about our provinces, our things, and everything else.” The administrative organization of Portuguese territory differs from that of Angola, exposing the student to a vocabulary – district, municipality, parish, etc. – that, while familiar to Portuguese students, is unfamiliar to him. Vítor⁶, a Brazilian student, makes a similar comparison:

The difference between this school [in Portugal] and the schools I attended in Brazil is, I think it’s practically everything. Both in terms of teaching, which here is much more demanding, much more focused on the subject. In Brazil, things are very superficial, because there are many more subjects.

According to the student, education in Portugal is more specific and in-depth, whereas in Brazil a broader range of subjects is covered. Another difficulty frequently mentioned by the interviewees is the language barrier. Singh⁷, a Pakistani student, is clear on this point:

The classes were conducted in Portuguese. Of course, I couldn’t understand anything... Imagine the situation—being in a class where you don’t understand anything that’s being said. [...]. Most of my classmates don’t speak English, or maybe they just don’t want to talk to me, I’m still not sure. [...]. That makes communication and integration into the class very difficult.

Because he does not speak the native language, Singh can only communicate in English. However, as he points out, not all teachers “can speak English very well,” nor, for that matter, can his classmates. As a result, the student finds himself unable, on the one hand, to understand the content being taught, which hinders learning, and, on the other hand, to interact with his peers, which makes it difficult to form social bonds and, consequently, to achieve “integration into the class.” The issue of language and communication affects various tasks expected of students, as is the case for Maryam⁸, an Iranian student:

The math teacher told me I would have to take a final exam in the subject. So she gave me a website to practice, but the worksheets are in Portuguese. I’ve been using Google Translate. Then I asked the teacher where I could find the English version of the exams. She told me it didn’t exist.

As a result, the student is not fully equipped to study at home, which makes it more difficult to achieve good academic performance.

Even students who speak Portuguese report this issue. The different language variants create communication barriers, not only in terms of assessing learning, but also in forming connections and friendships. Jordana notes that “they [her classmates] make fun” of her Carioca accent, imitating it. Roberta⁹, also Brazilian, tells us that she had several foreign friends of different nationalities, explaining that she identified with them because they were also mocked for the way they spoke: “they made fun of how the person talked. The way they spoke [...]. Yes, the pronunciation. Things like that.” Roberta feels, in such situations, that she is the target of ridicule and mockery: “some [classmates] pick on us. And pretend they don’t understand, and so on.” Due to the discomfort these situations cause her, and given that she has been in Portugal for 11 years, Roberta takes precautions by adapting as closely as possible to the Portuguese spoken in Portugal: “I learned that, to keep people from making fun of me, I had to be like the others, I had to speak [European Portuguese] to go more unnoticed.”

Others, like Kizua, take the attention their accent draws in good humor: “my accent is more Angolan than Portuguese. Yes, so at first, they even laughed at my accent. I didn’t feel offended. But there are some who do feel offended and respond with aggression.” Acknowledging that not everyone reacts well to jokes about language, the student adds that, in his case, “I even start joking around with them [the classmates].” Natula views the issue differently: “there are people who laugh at [her] accent.” And on that note, she confides:

Sometimes I feel bad. But sometimes I don’t, because I have to be proud of who I am and where I come from. Because the accent doesn’t matter, the color doesn’t matter, nothing matters. And the people where I grew up talk like this. [...] But sometimes I really do get very upset.

The student “feels bad” and gets “upset” because she feels that her way of speaking and communicating becomes a target of mockery.

It becomes clear that students are affected – each in different ways and to varying degrees – by their Portuguese peers’ reactions to their speech, generating moments of tension that are not without consequences. In these situations, each of these young people responds differently: Roberta makes efforts to adjust her way of speaking to match the native accent; Kizua joins in jovially and playfully with the comments made about him; and Natula draws on her origins (of which she is proud) to counterbalance the discomfort she feels.

The feeling of being included also encounters other forms of resistance related to the strangeness of the novelty brought by those who arrive at school. First and foremost, the image conveyed by the body and the first impression it makes on those who are already well integrated into the school. As Vítor states, “when you see groups, really large groups, you can tell: that one is Brazilian, that one is something else. You can tell them apart.” How? The student explains: “by the way they behave, the way they talk, I think that’s really it.” Singh is direct on this matter:

Some classmates don’t want to be seen with us. I notice it. Sometimes I’m with a classmate, and when others come near, he moves away. [...] Is it that they’re ashamed? Our clothing is poor, and many of us wear turbans, which seems to make some people uncomfortable.

The perceived image of the other’s body, beginning with the clothing worn, often produces a sense of strangeness. And, frequently, that strangeness leads to distancing and avoidance. Alternatively, it results in the formation of friendship groups composed exclusively of foreign students, as reported by Vichitra¹⁰, an Indian student: “we usually stay in groups with other Indians or Pakistanis. Almost all the other classmates keep away from us.” The explanation he offers aligns with what has been discussed: “I think they are afraid of us because we are different—for example, we wear different clothes, we have religious commitments.” In this case, the sense of strangeness is also rooted in religious beliefs and practices. Tuqeer¹¹, a Pakistani student, shares a similar experience, reflecting deeply on the avoidance by both classmates and even teachers: “It’s really scary. It feels like everyone looks at us in a strange way. [...]. Do I inspire fear or disgust? I really used to think that, and it’s very uncomfortable. And it wasn’t just the classmates, I felt the same with some teachers.” Faced with his peers’ gazes and the distance they impose, the student feels “uncomfortable” and questions whether there is something wrong with him.

It is worth noting that even Martim¹², a Portuguese student with direct Chinese ancestry, says he was “mocked” for “being the son of a Chinese father” – a lineage his classmates identified through his facial features – leaving him feeling “bad” and “uncomfortable.” Novelty is perceived both sensorily and visually, impressions that guide the situated conduct of young people. Natula highlights the difficulty this creates in forming social connections: “for example, when it’s lunchtime. They invite each other, they go have lunch together, go do things. Go hang out. But with me and Bruna, they don’t do that.” Moreover, the sense of strangeness is neither unidirectional nor unilateral, of course. Those who arrive also experience strangeness in relation to those who are, after all, new to them, the natives. Kizua offers an interesting example of the strangeness he felt: “what surprised me most is that the girls here wear whatever clothes they want. [...]. In Angola, it’s basically always hot. [...]. Even in that weather, they’re required to wear trousers at school—and here it’s not like that.”

In sum, we have outlined some of the difficulties faced by foreign students upon arriving at Portuguese schools, related to learning, communication, and socialization with peers (and teachers). We have also highlighted how these young people are affected by such forms of resistance, reporting feelings of apprehension, exclusion, self-consciousness, isolation, discomfort, or unease. Yet, we have also begun to observe the emergence of plural ways of accommodating the new within school conviviality. Therefore, in the following section, we will focus on the importance of peer group reception and the establishment of bonds of friendship, emphasizing the central role of hospitality practices in enabling participation and inclusion of newcomers within the fabric of the school common (^{Resende, 2019}).

Hospitality Toward the New: welcoming, integrating, befriending

All the students interviewed agree that school is both a space for acquiring knowledge essential for preparing to enter the professional world, and a place for interaction, socialization, and friendship (^{Resende, 2013}). As Igor¹³, a Moldovan student, puts it, “it doesn’t make sense to be at school and not have any friends,” and he even changed schools “because of the environment,” since “having good friends, good people around you is also very important for the school journey.” Martim agrees, saying that “it’s at school that we make most of our friends, and it’s from there that we build relationships with other people.” In other words, as Vítor tells us, “school is a good way to learn,” but that learning also includes “the content part, the part about making friends, connecting with people, socializing.” For this reason, school, as the student further notes, “is also a matter of integrating into society.” Natula echoes this view, stating that “school is our second home,” and it is there “that we find [...] our true friends.” Therefore, the formation of friendships with peers emerges as a crucial dimension in understanding how the newcomer is accommodated within the organization of the common and participates in the coordination of action with others.

The centrality of friendships in the inclusion of newcomers at school is evident across all interviews. Martim, for example, “think[s] it must have been easier [for his inclusion] to arrive with friends, to feel more at ease.” Why? “Because if I do something a bit unusual, there’s already some acceptance from the people I know. If I didn’t have friends [...] it would be different. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so comfortable, maybe I wouldn’t show myself as much.” Friendships with classmates allow the student to “show himself,” since “it’s important for a friend to be there to listen and, above all, to accept us as we are, almost like a member of the family. [...]. Trust and respect, that’s important.” Establishing affinity and friendly bonds is fundamental because of the “trust,” “acceptance,” “ease,” and “respect” they provide, allowing those who come from outside to participate and express themselves authentically. Friendship helps prevent feelings of isolation and loneliness, always lurking for those who arrive in a place that feels unfamiliar.

These relationships are formed daily and exercised through the bodily, affective, and sensory engagement of the young people. In this process, the hospitality of those already present toward those arriving is essential, as Jordana describes: “there was a day when I stayed off to the side. Then the two girls who were there called me. ‘No, don’t be afraid, you can come and sit with us.’” The native students took the initiative and made an effort to approach Jordana, who was left alone “in her corner.” Similarly, Natula recalls how her only school friendship began: “it wasn’t my initiative. I was alone, and she came over and asked if we could hang out together. We started hanging out. And I think if she hadn’t done that, we wouldn’t be friends.”

However, initiating dialogue with the newcomer is not the only form of approach. Kizua, for example, identifies sports and participation in recreational activities as facilitators of inclusion: “in the first physical education class, we played football. And since I’m really good at football, they liked watching me play, etc. That’s when they started saying ‘this guy is cool,’” or “here we pretty much play foosball more than anything else.” On the one hand, the appreciation of the young man's football skills served as an icebreaker for social interaction; on the other hand, the foosball game appears to have provided a shared activity around which interaction unfolded naturally, without requiring verbal conversation.

Friendship relationships – whether within the class or beyond it – sustained through these everyday practices, create a favorable context for the participation of foreign students in the shared life of the school. This begins with academic performance, as Kizua explains: “I can study the subject, I can know the content, but if the question is asked in a different way, I don’t know how to answer. And sometimes I ask them to help me understand the question properly. They tell me.” Natula reinforces this point when speaking about her friend: “she’s the one who sometimes helps me understand things, because the Portuguese from here [Portugal] is different from the Portuguese from there [Angola].” Even though, of course, these bonds go far beyond their practical usefulness, involving deep emotional connections that are essential for staying in school. As Natula puts it: “I think her company is really good. And sometimes, when she’s absent, I feel really sad, really alone. [...] Her presence is very important to me.” The formation of friendly social bonds is so important that, in their absence, it can even lead to the decision to switch classes, as Vítor recounts about a Brazilian friend of his:

That friend of mine […] was in another class, and he said it was very different from this one [the current one]. He’s now in the same class as me [...]. He said his old class was made up of cliques. [...]. So he was left alone, [...] he couldn’t make friends with people—they were very closed off.

And that was reason enough for him to request a class transfer. The organization of the class into closed-off groups makes it difficult for newly arrived students to integrate. As Jordana explains: “If there’s, like, a little group, I feel, I guess it’s not really shame, but fear of stepping in and just showing up out of nowhere. So I feel kind of apprehensive.” Natula agrees: “It’s just the two of us because the other classmates leave us out [...]. Could it be because of my skin color? I would say it’s because of my color.” This “fear” of participating and intervening, along with the feeling of being excluded from the class, reveals the central role of forming a circle of friends in ensuring a quality school experience. Igor’s experience is telling in this regard. Happy with his school environment up to 9th grade, he changed schools in 10th grade. And at that new school, “it was like a family of students who were already integrated into that group.” For that reason, he “decided to change schools again,” and was transferred to the one he was attending at the time of the interview. His assessment of the new school is in stark contrast to the previous one: “I think it’s a good environment, and it’s nothing like my previous class, for example, which was very different.” The reception and hospitality extended by the class and, more broadly, by the school community, are therefore fundamental to the formation of friendships and, consequently, to the inclusion of the newcomer into school life.

Tensions, Dilemmas, Anxieties

We understand that inclusion is not a state of being that can be taken for granted; rather, it is something that is gradually and unevenly constructed. We have also seen that the pathways young people follow in responding to the arrival of the new are multiple and yield uncertain outcomes: inclusion is a daily exercise in plural compositions and rhythms. There is no stable reference framework, nor a predefined set of rules or codes, whose observance guarantees the successful inclusion of foreign students into school environments. It is not surprising, then, that the arrival and continued presence of newcomers in schools are accompanied by moments of tension and anxiety, the easing of which often requires navigating dilemmas.

Let us look at a few cases reported by the interviewees. In reviewing some of the difficulties felt and identified by foreign students upon their arrival at school, there are moments in which tension becomes explicit and intensifies. One such case was reported by Igor, referring to a comment he overheard, not directed at him, but at another foreign classmate:

Once I overheard something, and it really upset me, in a way. It was when a friend of mine… he’s Black. He went to get a second serving in the cafeteria. [...]. And he heard someone say, “he went for seconds because in Africa they can’t do that”.

Along these lines, Kizua also says he has experienced prejudice firsthand due to the color of his skin: “many people think that Black people steal. If something goes missing, ‘oh, he’s the one who took it.’ [...] Once, in class, a girl’s phone went missing and she was already accusing me indirectly.” Both the comment made in the cafeteria and the accusation of theft constitute (un)founded judgments based solely on the students’ appearance, generating discomfort for those targeted and a tension that is difficult to resolve. Jaswinder¹⁴, an Indian student, recounts a similar case:

Once, a classmate didn’t want to sit next to me, even though the teacher told her to. The teacher insisted, but she refused. Some classmates say we smell bad. I don’t know why that girl didn’t want to sit next to me. I don’t think I smell bad.

The student does not know the reason for the classmate’s refusal to sit next to him, even after the teacher’s prompting. However, based on comments he has heard, he suspects it may be related to body odor. He is clearly affected by the classmate’s attitude, which is rooted in a sensory register, namely, the sense of smell.

Natula says she feels bad during Physical Education classes. Why? Because when it comes to selecting teams for exercises, “they [the classmates] always choose each other. I’m always the last one. [...] I just go to any group.” She insists: “if you’re feeling sad, no one comes to you. They just leave you. They choose each other because they’ve been friends for longer.” The young student feels excluded, as she perceives that none of her classmates is interested in (or pleased to) have her on their team. She makes a critical observation: “they should at least feel a duty, if a classmate is sad, to talk, to find out what’s going on.” Natula sees her peers as insensitive to her emotional state, believing that a classmate’s discomfort (her own) should take precedence over team preferences in sports activities. Yet her peers make no adjustment to their usual behavior, placing her in a situation of discomfort. More often, it is the newcomers who adapt their behavior in an attempt to ease tensions and enable social interaction. It is the same Natula who tells us: “when I’m doing a presentation, there are classmates who turn their heads [...], some who laugh.” So she adjusts her behavior to avoid ridicule, minimizing her exposure in class: “that’s why sometimes I don’t ask questions. Sometimes I don’t ask because I’d have to put myself out there.” Similarly, Roberta, who says she felt “obliged to speak [European] Portuguese” by teachers and school staff, adapts her behavior to avoid comments: “I don’t make eye contact with people, and I don’t talk to them, because I’m ashamed. Even though I really wanted to make lots of friends and everything.”

Another tension reported concerns the use of mobile phones. As Martim points out:

I don’t think there should be such a big concern about whether I can use my phone or not. Sometimes I’m in Portuguese class using my phone because I need help. The teacher might not want that, but sometimes it’s useful. So they don’t need to be so strict about these things.

The student uses his mobile phone to clarify language-related doubts, in other words, for educational purposes. However, classroom rules prohibit such practices. According to Martim, the teacher in question does not appear to be sufficiently sensitive to the specificity of his situation, as she applies rules that are general and impersonal, thereby hindering his learning. Tuqeer’s case is similar, as illustrated here:

In every class I share a desk with Vichitra. I’m from Pakistan and Vichitra is from India, but we speak the same language. Vichitra also speaks Portuguese. He helps me in class, but the teachers sometimes scold us because we’re talking and disrupting the lesson

The dilemma is clear: either conversation is allowed so that the student can understand the content being taught, or general rules are enforced in order to ensure fairness and maintain a smooth classroom environment, at the cost of Tuqeer’s comprehension. According to the student, teachers tend to choose the latter, which leads him to adjust his behavior, pretending to understand when, in fact, he does not: “it’s impolite to keep asking people to repeat themselves. So, many times, I pretend I understand, but actually, I don’t know what they mean.”

Customs brought from students’ countries of origin can also lead to conflict during class. Let us hear from Tuqeer again:

In Pakistan, girls don’t get up to go to the board. My sister felt very embarrassed when a teacher called her to the board, and she said she didn’t want to go. The teacher probably didn’t understand that she was feeling ashamed, because girls aren’t supposed to be exposed like that in front of the class, standing next to the teacher.

To resolve this unexpected classroom disruption, multiple layers of relevance must be considered. On the one hand, in Portugal, students, regardless of gender, are expected to follow the teacher’s directive to go to the board. On the other hand, in the student’s country of origin, girls are not supposed to expose themselves in front of the class, so the teacher’s request caused embarrassment and “shame.” Inclusion is, therefore, always subject to the contingencies presented by each concrete situation, and it is not always easy to carry out action accordingly.

While it is true that these situations do not always have a happy ending, there are times when they do. We conclude, therefore, with one such case, also shared by Tuqeer: “I used to attend afternoon prayer with the rest of the Muslim community in the city, so I had to miss some classes, and the teachers would mark me absent.” The class schedule and the timing of religious prayers were in conflict, and the student, not being omnipresent, ended up missing some lessons, thus compromising his academic performance. However,

The homeroom teacher, who is very kind, asked why I was missing classes. I explained the situation, and then he said he would solve the problem. He spoke with the school principal, and she said I could do my prayers in the classroom during the breaks between classes.

Through the intervention of the homeroom teacher, it was possible to make the rules more flexible without, at the same time, disrupting the regular functioning of the classes or the student’s religious practices. It is worth noting that this hospitable approach, by taking the specific nature of the case into account, made it possible to safeguard the learning of all students in the class, including Tuqeer. “Maybe it was the first time I truly felt integrated at school, because the homeroom teacher and the school principal understood my religious obligations and helped me fulfill them without having to miss class.” However, the tension still lingers: “despite that, my classmates weren’t as understanding.” Hospitality and inclusion remain a continuous and unfinished exercise.