"We're trying to back way up. If you are not using the bathroom appropriately, you can't really start talking about CRTs (Criteria Reference Tests). The kids really aren't there yet."

The district hired a consultant and holds forums aimed at developing an educational framework that supports students, parents and teachers.

"We're kind of inventing this scaffolding as we go," said Jane Willie, district family involvement coordinator.

Teachers' responses to officials forming some sort of plan range from what's the hold up to what's the use.

"I've had these kids for three years now and we've had these same problems. We need to come up with a way to expedite this process. We need to get a move on," said one.

Another said: "These children, how are they going to survive in the American school system?

"These kids are going to hate school. They are going to hate the system."

Willie said in a later interview teacher frustration has increased in the past year, but so has the willingness to reach out. Several teachers at various schools use personal time to help refugee children with homework.

Language of love

In many schools, there is no money for translators to help bridge the formidable cultural gaps.

A list of "teacher friendly" phrases in the Somali Bantus' native Mai-Mai circulated at the district's February forum.

"Sit still."

"Be quiet."

"Please don't spit."

"Go home."

The list appalled Northwest Middle School teacher Ellie Brady. She found it utterly lacking compassion. She was looking for phrases like, "How are you?" "What's your name?" "Are you OK?"

Brady, who teaches English as Second Language, says she knows what to do with refugee students: Teach them.

Treat them well and care. They will respond, she says. "I've had an overall positive experience with the kids."

But simply teaching refugee children is a challenge.

Resettlement case workers sometimes drop off new students with no explanation to teachers about their history.

Teachers start at ground zero. They can't talk to the children or their parents. And the children can't talk to them.

Everything is strange to a refugee, especially those straight from a squalid camp in Kenya or Ethiopia. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the clothes. Several Somali Bantus at Riley Elementary School spent the first few days in class pulling off shirts.

"The difference with refugees is that we have the trauma that goes along with it," Kelen said.