When students in Pennsylvania’s Quakertown Community School District peruse their course catalog for the 2026-27 school year, they’ll find something conspicuously missing: German. For the first time in decades, the district will no longer offer German among its world language options, a decision that reflects not only local realities but also a broader, troubling trend across the state and the nation. According to the Bucks County Herald, the move comes amid a persistent shortage of certified language teachers—a problem that’s forcing schools to make tough choices about what languages, and by extension what cultures, their students can access.
At a recent school board meeting, Quakertown administrators unveiled a Program of Studies for rising ninth-graders that included 61 courses but omitted German. Assistant Superintendent Lisa Hoffman explained to the board, “We simply cannot find French teachers, we could not find German teachers,” adding that low enrollment in these courses also factored into the decision. For now, students already enrolled in online or hybrid German classes will be able to continue, but new students are out of luck. The only remaining world language options? Spanish and Mandarin—a selection board member Chris Spear called “extremely limited,” especially given the district’s diverse student body.
Language advocates are worried. As the Bucks County Herald reported, there’s concern that narrowing choices could further discourage students from pursuing language study at all. And Quakertown’s predicament isn’t unique. Statewide research shows that nearly 38% of Pennsylvania districts reported at least one teaching vacancy during the 2023-24 school year, with shortages especially acute in specialized subjects like foreign languages. A recent Penn State analysis found that fewer new teachers are entering the profession than just a decade ago, leading districts to rely more on emergency permits or simply leave positions unfilled.
The teacher shortage isn’t just a numbers game—it’s a cultural one, too. When schools can’t staff language classes, entire avenues of communication and understanding are closed off to students. That’s a loss that can ripple far beyond the classroom, affecting everything from job prospects to cross-cultural empathy.
But amid these challenges, there are stories that highlight the enduring value—and transformative power—of language education. Take Jessica Burris, an American Sign Language (ASL) teacher at Troy High School. As reported on December 24, 2025, Burris grew up straddling two worlds: her father was deaf, her mother hearing, and from a young age she became fluent in both English and ASL. “I think my dad would have been proud of me,” Burris reflected, recalling how her father’s silent gestures in American Sign Language spoke volumes of love and pride. “I know he would have been proud of me.”
Burris didn’t always envision herself teaching. In fact, she’s one of the few ASL teachers she knows who actually grew up with a deaf parent. Her journey took her from interpreting in the local deaf community to earning a bachelor’s degree from Siena Heights University and a master’s from the American College of Education. She began teaching at Troy High School in the fall of 2019, and her approach goes far beyond grammar and vocabulary. Burris regularly brings deaf guests into her classroom, requiring students to go “100 percent voice-off” so they can experience, even briefly, what it feels like to navigate a world not built for them. “So the deaf often feel like outcasts everywhere they go in life, so you can feel that way for one class period. And I think that really makes them think, ‘Oh, my gosh. This is the struggle that they go through every day and how awful that feels.’”
The impact of ASL isn’t limited to the classroom. Burris’s own family story illustrates that point powerfully. Her daughter Brooklyn, born in 2015 with Down Syndrome, was non-verbal for the early part of her life. Using sign language, Brooklyn was able to communicate her needs and feelings—a lifeline for both her and her parents. Burris’s younger daughter, Alexa, now nine, also uses ASL. And when Burris’s mother lost her hearing due to a brain tumor, their shared knowledge of sign language meant they could continue to communicate without the need for specialized equipment. “The doctors asked her, ‘Do you want to get a cochlear implant? Do you want this?’” Burris recounted. “And she said, ‘No. I know sign language, so it’s fine.’”
Sign language classes have seen remarkable growth in American high schools since the early 2000s. Today, 45 states recognize ASL as a certified foreign language class, and it ranks among the top five most popular foreign languages for high school students—alongside Spanish, French, German, and Latin. Unlike most other languages, ASL’s enrollment numbers are still climbing. Burris encourages her students to take what they learn home, teaching basic signs to family members and spreading awareness about the deaf community. “There are so many other reasons why people should learn sign language, as well. One day, most of my students will become parents, and at some point will want to be able to use signs with their baby. And their kid will probably have a lot less anger issues because their point can get across and that communication will be easier, even if they aren’t deaf.”
Burris’s fourth-year ASL students now collaborate with Troy’s special needs classes, developing weekly lessons and learning how to adapt their teaching to different abilities. “I love this project. It’s something I’m really proud of,” she said. In a time when language offerings are shrinking in many districts, her story is a reminder of what can be gained when schools invest in meaningful, inclusive language education.
Meanwhile, the landscape of language and media in America continues to shift in other ways. Javier Marin, a Venezuelan immigrant and media entrepreneur, has spent the past two decades chronicling the rise of Spanish-language media in the United States. After fleeing Venezuela in 2000 due to fears of government crackdowns, Marin settled in Massachusetts and soon discovered the lack of robust Spanish-language journalism. Following advice from Boston Globe editor Martin Baron, Marin founded El Planeta in 2005, and later acquired El Tiempo Latino in Washington, D.C.
Marin’s recent book, “Live From America: How Latino TV Conquered the U.S.,” published in November 2025, traces the evolution of Spanish-language television from its humble beginnings in 1950s San Antonio, Texas, to the powerhouse networks of today. Univision, which started as a small station broadcasting Mexican content, grew by acquiring outlets in Spanish-speaking communities, eventually competing with media giants like Ted Turner and Rupert Murdoch. Today, the Hispanic population in the U.S. has soared from less than 4 million in the 1960s to more than 62 million—a demographic transformation that has reshaped media, politics, and culture.
Marin’s book highlights the challenges—and the missed opportunities—American media companies faced by ignoring Spanish-language content for so long. “Why didn’t any of the big networks do it, when they knew there was this important community and this growing market? That’s a question we can all ask ourselves,” Marin mused. He suggests that racism or at least “discriminatory ignorance” may have played a role, and notes that negative narratives about Hispanic immigrants persist to this day. “This narrative of showing immigrants as bad actors is still around and in the mainstream, and it’s completely wrong,” Marin said. “Of course there is an immigration problem. But the economic survival of this state and so many others depends on attracting new workers and the Latino community is the fastest growing in the country. I think people should understand the journey, not only the crisis.”
As language programs in schools face uncertain futures and immigrant communities continue to shape the American story, the need for robust, inclusive language education and media has never been clearer. Whether in the classroom, the newsroom, or the home, the ability to communicate across languages and cultures remains one of America’s most vital strengths.
For students in Quakertown and beyond, the loss of a language class is more than a scheduling change—it’s a missed chance to connect, to understand, and to belong in an ever-more diverse world.
