Redefining the Monolingual Norm: A Cultural Shift in the American Midwest

In the American Midwest, it was widely accepted for decades that all you needed was English. It was the language of handshakes at grain elevators, Friday night football games, township board meetings, and church suppers. For many families, the notion that a child in southern Indiana or central Iowa might benefit from speaking Mandarin or Spanish at home seemed to belong in coastal cities rather than their area of the world. Slowly but clearly, that presumption is being challenged.

You’ll hear things that were unthinkable twenty years ago if you walk into an elementary school in a town like Marshalltown, Iowa, or Beardstown, Illinois. Spanish is used for half of the instruction in dual-language classrooms. Aides who speak Somali assist children in solving math problems. Phrases in Karen, a language that most residents could not have named a generation ago, adorned the hallways. These are not progressive enclave experimental programs. They are pragmatic reactions to a demographic reality that emerged more quickly than anyone had anticipated, fueled by dairy and meatpacking facilities that drew immigrant labor into areas that had been experiencing population declines for years.

Although it is more difficult to capture the cultural texture in data, the numbers clearly convey a story. Nowadays, about 70 million Americans speak a language other than English at home; this number is concentrated in border states and cities, but the growth rate has been disproportionately high in rural Midwestern counties. Spanish-speaking populations in towns in Kansas, Minnesota, and Nebraska doubled or tripled between 2010 and 2020. Parent-teacher conference interpreters were suddenly required by school districts that had no bilingual staff. Although the evidence suggests otherwise, it’s possible that many local administrators still view this as a short-term annoyance rather than a long-term change.

The conflict between the Midwest’s self-image and its new reality is what distinguishes its experience. For a long time, this area has valued homogeneity—not necessarily out of cruelty, but rather out of habit. The monolingual standard was assumed rather than strictly enforced. From the Americanization campaigns of the 1920s to the English-only ballot initiatives that swept state legislatures in the 1990s and 2000s, English was merely the language of belonging, supported by policy decisions that date back more than a century. There is a perception that many people in the Midwest did not consciously choose to be monolingual; rather, it was imposed upon them by a national culture that viewed speaking only English as a sign of full citizenship.

However, economics is now accomplishing what ideology was unable to. Bilingual fluency is being listed by employers throughout the region, including hospitals, logistics companies, and agribusiness firms, as a desired and occasionally necessary skill. A small Wisconsin town’s school board member recently acknowledged, clearly uncomfortable, that graduates’ employment prospects were being negatively impacted by their district’s lack of investment in language programs. Delivered at a public meeting in a county that overwhelmingly supported English-only legislation fifteen years prior, that kind of admission is a quiet revolution in and of itself.

The change isn’t seamless, though. There is actual opposition, sometimes stemming from a sincere concern for cultural unity and other times from something more repulsive. Bilingual signage has been opposed by parents in a number of districts. Even as state legislatures pour money into workforce development programs that require precisely those skills, they are still hesitant to support heritage language programs for immigrant communities. The paradox is practically theatrical. The difference between what the culture is willing to accept and what the economy wants is difficult to ignore.

The Seal of Biliteracy, a credential that acknowledges proficiency in two languages, is currently in use in more than thirty states, and Utah and Delaware have made significant progress toward dual-language immersion at the elementary level. However, the Midwest, torn between pragmatism and nostalgia, has lagged behind. The programs that do exist are typically brittle and rely more on individual champions than on systemic commitment. Years of progress can be undone by a single budget cycle or retiring principal.

It is genuinely unclear whether the Midwest will fully embrace multilingualism or continue to view it as an awkward accommodation. However, the monolingual norm that characterized the area for many generations has already changed. Whether the heartland is changing is not the question. The question is whether it will evolve quickly enough to adapt to itself.