According to Nathan Shedroff ( 1997), writing in a recent report from the National Academy of Sciences ( Biermann, 1997), a critical issue in design of information systems is

"how they address people from different backgrounds and culture since the next level of computer users (the next 100 million users) will not be as willing to change their approach to problems and their interaction with devices as the enthusiasts and professionals who comprise the present base of computer users. Issues of language, gesture, understanding, privacy, approach, civility, and "life" are not consistent throughout the world--and wonderfully so--and must be discovered and documented. (p. 10 )"

 He might have been writing about education in general, not just about information technologies. What are the issues Shedroff and others have identified that relate to education of people who come from minority cultures? To answer this question, we need to recognize, first, something that Hofstra professor Daniel Sciarra ( 1999) has emphasized: Americans from minority cultural backgrounds vary greatly in the extent to which they identify with "old country" values v. the degree to which they have assimilated aspects of the dominant American culture. That is, they differ in the extent to which they are acculturated to dominant American cultures. We cannot simply say, Dr. Sciarra tells us, that someone is from a particular culture and therefore espouses certain beliefs. Rather, we must strive to understand how that particular person thinks and behaves, realizing that he or she may move, over time, along a continuum from the "old culture" to the "new" one. That is, Americans who are members of ethnic groups vary within themselves, over time, in the degree to which their interests, preferences, and beliefs are shaped by one culture or another. Accordingly, of course, they also vary between themselves.

One important factor to watch is the pluralistic or collectivist orientation of many minority cultures, which contrasts sharply with the focus on the individual of the Euro-American culture. Almost without thinking about it, those of us belonging to the dominant culture call attention to individual achievement. We stress it in the ways we teach. We test for it. We celebrate it when we find it. One small example: we start classes at a certain time, whether or not everyone has arrived. Another, also small, example: we expect a student to complete his or her work on a timely basis, even if personal or family emergencies make that difficult. Those expectations, together with  others (see discussion of nonverbal communication, below), are viewed by many members of ethnic and racial minority groups as comprising a "negative attitude" by "the educational elite" ( Parette, 1999; Salend and Taylor, 1993).

For many cultures, all of this emphasis upon individual accomplishment may actually be offensive. They place a lot less stress upon the individual and much more upon the group, especially the family. They consider it appropriate to begin a meeting, not at some artificial time, but when all of the important participants have arrived. They believe that the health and well-being of people and their families override artificial deadlines, such that if there is a family emergency, the student should attend to that, and be praised for doing so, notwithstanding the fact that the academic work must be postponed. Similarly, members of some of these minority groups learn much better when they are given opportunities to be team members than when they are required to work, and are tested, separately.

There are also different modes of nonverbal communication. One example is how personal space is interpreted. Some minority cultures teach that it is entirely appropriate for people to spend their days in very close physical proximity--so close, in fact, that some members of the dominant American culture become distinctly uncomfortable. In other cultures (Muslim Indian culture springs to mind), physical proximity and interpersonal contact may be frowned upon. Some cultures teach that it is a mark of respect for students to avoid direct eye gaze at their teachers--while majority educators expect, and even demand, that students make eye contact with them. Body language means different things in different cultures. If I were to stand ramrod-straight when meeting someone from Japan, for example, I would be showing disrespect; the exact same body posture when meeting a majority-culture individual could signal the opposite--respect. (I think of how I am when I'm in a room with Hofstra's president. I tend to hold back a little and allow him the prerogative of noticing and recognizing me; I would not feel comfortable, as a university professor, making the first move by stepping closer to him or initiating the conversation with him.) To take another example: expressive communication for many African Americans is not exclusively verbal; rather, bodily movements convey considerable meaning. Many whites, by contrast, will "let the words speak for themselves."

The availability of instructional materials in different languages is an important concern. It is not simply that books, articles, handouts, etc., may need to be translated from English; it is also that the nuances of languages be respected. Simple word-for-word translations may result in serious miscommunication. A good example is that given above: if written materials talk about individual empowerment and individual achievement, but do not explain that we intend no disrespect for group empowerment and group achievement, some students may be confused or even disturbed. Shedroff (1997) added, in his paper for the National Academy of Science's Screen Deep report, that "automatic language translation is one of the most critical--and difficult  --problems to solve" (p.  10 ). This is so for several reasons. First, minority group members may not learn about educational opportunities on a timely basis, because publicity about the programs is offered only in English. That includes the topics, content, intended audiences, dates, times, etc., of courses, whether the information is promoted in print or on the Web. This is a very major problem for anyone who is concerned, as I am, about making the benefits of education more widely available. Second, more obviously, texts and other reading materials often are available only in English. When I test Spanish-primary students using tests in English, I have to be skeptical about the results. Finally, communication in the classroom, both professor-to-student and student-to-classmates and -professor, generally is in English. Automatic language translation (see Chapter 5) promises to help us to solve many of these problems.

Some cultures teach that the family, and not society at large, is responsible for family members who have disabilities or other limitations of activity. Some African-American families regard government as being quite appropriately responsible for meeting the special needs of people with disabilities, especially children and older individuals; some Hispanic families, by contrast, believe that it is the family that must meet those needs. These families may feel embarrassment about children with disabilities. (In 20-plus years as a consultant to the U.S. Census Bureau, I have continually found that Hispanic families under-report disability. They do not acknowledge it to census takers [who are seen as representatives of government]. This produces consistently low estimates about how many people of Hispanic origin have disabilities. I have to mentally adjust the reported numbers, recognizing, that some degree of under-reporting likely has occurred.) Some cultures (one that comes to mind is that of first-generation Italian families) hold superstitions in far higher regard than does the dominant American culture. Members of these families may fear that if someone voluntarily participates in an experiential activity intended to help that person to appreciate what it is to have a disability, this person is "tempting fate." (I have had students complain to me about such experiential activities, citing their parents' objections.)

A related concern of some families is that technology may call unwanted attention to family members. This is particularly the case with respect to assistive technology used by persons with disabilities. However, the worry is a broader one. Consider, as one example, interactive video technologies, such as those used in distance learning (see Chapter 6). Educators need to be sensitive to the fact that, for some families, the very idea that a video camera would capture the family's living quarters, and show those to other people, is unacceptable. In some instances, that is because it seems to be an unwarranted invasion of privacy; in others, it could be a source of shame. There is more to it than this. While members of the dominant Euro-American culture may feel perfectly comfortable with cell phones, beepers, etc., in public places such as classrooms and restaurants, for members of some minority culture groups just  the ringing of a cell phone or the beeping of a pager, let alone holding a conversation over a cell phone in a public place, would be a cause for embarrassment. The need to preserve the family's self-esteem is high in many such cultures, so a premium is placed upon avoiding unnecessary public attention. Of course, when a family member requires assistive technology because of disability, the fact that the device calls public attention to the disability could be viewed by some family members as even more humiliating.

What are some steps that educators can take to respond to these concerns? It is my belief that the first such step must be to reflect upon our own cultural heritages and upon our beliefs about people from other cultures. Such selfawareness is a critical component of cultural competence. I have to consciously remind myself that my typical obsession with time (I am early to class, I start class at the assigned time, etc.) is a reflection of my cultural upbringing; I have to bear in mind that there is nothing "natural" or "right" about these attitudes of mine and that there are, rather, other views that are equally valid about the place of time in our everyday lives.

Similarly, for me, as a person who has had a disability for a half century, disabilities are not conditions that I regard with shame. The fact that I had measles when I was very young, and was given a "miracle drug" that only later became recognized as having a side-effect of causing deafness, is not something that embarrasses me. I didn't choose to take mycin drugs, so why should I want to hide my deafness? (My colleague Dr. Sciarra, an expert on acculturation, tells me that my attitudes reflect my personal level of adjustment to deafness. He draws parallels between that and the varying degrees to which members of immigrant families acculturate to the dominant American culture. I suspect he's right.) Nonetheless, in my efforts to be culturally sensitive and competent, I have to acknowledge that some other cultures do in fact teach that deafness (and other disabilities) are causes of shame. This knowledge helps me to deal with families that shrink from public acknowledgment of disability--it teaches me to approach such families with care, giving them time to get to know and trust me, before I ask them to consider public services for their child. Beth Harry, Maya Kalyanpur, and Monimahka Day ( 1999) have called this "cultural reciprocity," their term for how educators and family members learn to understand each other and to appreciate what each has to offer to children. To pick up on the distance-learning problem discussed earlier, I would show some sensitivity if I were to make available to students the option of using voice telephone connections rather than video telephony to "attend" my lectures; voice phone connections are much less invasive of a family's privacy than are video connections.

A third step is to assess all key components of the educational program for possible cultural insensitivity. Hofstra professor Eduardo Duarte has been particularly vocal about the cultural insensitivity of American public schools ( Duarte and Smith, 2000). To take an example discussed briefly above: do meetings always start at the scheduled time, or is flexibility allowed in respect  for cultural differences about time? There are, of course, occasions when promptness is necessary, but, as Duarte and Smith teach us, there are also times when it is not. Students and members of their families might be asked to review the program to suggest improvements. Take, as another example, avoidance of eye gaze, an issue raised earlier. I use eye contact as a way to reassure myself throughout a lecture that my students are understanding the ideas I am trying to teach them; I quickly see, in their eyes, confusion, boredom, etc., and that alters the manner, and the pace, in which I teach. I have to remind myself, when I have minority-culture students, that they may keep their eyes down as a sign of respect. If so, I will sometimes say to them: "Thank you for this gesture of respect. I appreciate it. However, this is my classroom, and I ask that you maintain eye contact with me during class. I need that, to monitor my own teaching. I assure you that you will not be showing me any disrespect by doing this."

It should be obvious, but it bears mentioning anyway: educational programs should recruit a culturally diverse staff. The "feeling" that students and potential students get about programs often has its roots in the kinds of people they see when they visit the program ( Duarte and Smith, 2000; Harry, Kalyanpur, and Day, 1999). Similarly, a culturally diverse staff is more capable than is a culturally monotonous staff of keeping everyone aware of cultural sensitivities and of training others in cultural competence ( Sciarra, 1999). To illustrate: one step that culturally diverse personnel might suggest to resolve a family's embarrassment about assistive technology is to arrange for the family to see other families from the same culture using such technologies ( Parette, 1999).