by Isabelle Thuy Pelaud, Ph.D.

photos by Becky Mou and William Brown

Academics often think of Vietnamese Americans as refugees, and tend to forget that a third generation, the children of the U.S.-born children of those who left Viet Nam in 1975, are entering elementary school. A 2005 study of Vietnamese American youth in Boston concludes that compared to other Asian Americans, Vietnamese Americans tend to have poorer grades, find it difficult to rely on community support, and experience more mental health concerns, family and safety issues, peer pressure, exposure to gangs, domestic violence and suicidal thoughts.

At San Francisco State University, the number of Vietnamese American students has decreased since 2000, when they numbered 613 undergraduates and 71 graduate students. Today, there are 585 undergraduates (3 percent of the student body) and 59 graduate students of Vietnamese descent (1.3 percent). The cost of tuition rose during that time and so did the cost of living in the area. Most of our students are second generation and recent immigrants who have been here for five, six or seven years.

According to Mai Nguyen, a student counselor on campus, the main issues faced by Vietnamese American students are language and the lack of financial support.

“In my experience,” said Nguyen, “Vietnamese newcomers have to deal with adapting to the culture, learn a new language and experience financial hardship. Many have to work part-time while attending school. At the same time,” she adds, “they have problems dealing with their responsibilities at home and with high expectations from their parents.”

Sometimes, Vietnamese American students receive somewhat inadequate family support when it comes to academic guidance. Yet they carry a lot of family obligations, serving as translators, taking care of paperwork, and driving family members from place to place.

One of my students, Dan, writes: “My mom does not speak English very well, and every time someone calls and speaks to her in English, she gives me the phone and I have to translate for her. Sometimes I get mad and try to ignore her if I am busy. But if I do not help her, she brings up the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ son conversation. And she always tells me that one of the reasons she supports my education is so that I can help her, read letters for her, and do translation. For me, in order to be a good son and to repay her, I have to do it.”

Young women seem to have additional obligations and restrictions. One of the class assignments I give my students is to attend a community event or do a few hours of community work. Each semester, female students from more traditional families tell me they are not allowed to drive or go out on their own, so I give them the option to watch a video instead.

Counselor Mai Nguyen has suggested that well-meaning parents do sometimes more harm than good.

“Last year a Vietnamese parent called me and asked why we wanted to ‘torture’ his kid,” said Nguyen. “His son did not have all the requirements for admission so we asked that he attend Summer Program before we could admit him to SFSU.”

Yet despite some of the problems that arise, Nguyen also understands that parents do the best they can in supporting their children.

The fact that many of our students serve as intermediaries between their parents and the outside world does not necessarily mean that they are equipped to compete in the academic world. Compared to other Asian American students, their writing skills tend to be quite weak. As a result, they are more likely to shy away from reading and writing classes. Recent immigrants have the most difficulties. But this is not true for all Vietnamese American students.