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Introduction:
            The purpose of this project was to inform us on the idea that we all speak a language but it may show certain things about our identity. Throughout this process we’ve have talked of ways that we have language identity in our city’s, family’s, and home’s. Our assignment was to connect the language we use in our every day lives to create scenes for a larger idea, thus making our Language Auto Biography. When I wrote this the hardest part was connecting this to a larger idea but I think I’ve solved this when I made my draft.

Language Auto Biography:

I waited at the door to our hotel room with the fresh smell of groceries in my hands. I was listening and enjoying my family on a hot august day. I watched and learned a ton of language in the south. Coming from Philadelphia on they way here traveling through the states like Maryland and North Carolina the rest stop filled with strangers. At McDonald's in Virginia I found my self in the sea of dialects and accents.  During the ride we enjoyed each other’s company while we talked watch and laughed the whole ride there. During vacation I notice change in voice almost if I’ve changed who I was.

Strolling in the room while she held up a card, she gave me a look and reported. “Now this is your room card don’t lose it Rog or your butt is mine!” Now coming from the high raised eyebrow on her forehead I could tell she meant business. She quick asked “are you sure you can take care of this card cause we won’t get another.”  I grab it quick trying to run out the room, I herd her yell from out the side of my ear. “Yall better not loose it!”  Some of her accent show for minute as a walked away she changed who she was to get her point across

While I’ve noticed this from my aunt many times, I’ve also notice how she would act in her profession. Overhearing a conversation of her while she called back to her job in Pittsburgh. She seemed to present herself using Standard English which could mislead people. While everyone has an accent, but we all try to relate to people using Standard English. Why is this? Maybe we have indicated that a structured language is a language of power and we can use it to get people to understand, listen, and comprehend in the real world.

Not saying that the accents can be misunderstood, but I’m stating that we use Standard English to get our points across and to get our thoughts heard. Power is power and we need this survive our everyday jobs and lives in the business world. In a article written by James Baldwin If Black English Isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me, What Is? (1979). Baldwin stated about the language equaling power, “...and connects one with, or divorces one from, the larger, public, or communal identity”. The way my aunt change her accent to relate to a client she really shows that the modern world takes advantage this language in thought that they can control people. I wondered what her client would think if she had talked with her Pittsburgh/ southern dialect would the call be totally different deal.

That summer when I noticed she wasn’t talking like my mom, her own sister, I started to understand she had some sort of dialect came in her voice. It seemed so foreign even though she was my aunt, she lives in Pittsburgh and me, in Philadelphia:; How could 5 hour distance have such a impact on the way a person talks? Seeing that this is true I can also talk to my grandmother, who is currently living in Georgia and when she arrived to our room she greeted us on as she could “So how y’all doin?”

Being with me grandmother is always like I’m meeting her for the first time not only because of the distance we live away from each other also by her accent. When I usually hear a southern accent at first glance I start thoughts of farms and a rural hot area where the people aren’t well educated, James Baldwin’s theory, of Black English evolving in the south during slavery, show how the accents of many came about. He stated that during the trip here, the whole culture of African Americans was taken away along with their languages. So using the English that they have come quick to learn during there time in slavery they would soon that structured dialect, that almost every white person in the south knew, into Black English; Something that the slave owners couldn’t understand until later after. My grandmother talked more of the English version of that but it still occurred to me that’s where her accent originated.

Our Language Identity we can find in our homes throughout our many lines of family but it always finds it’s way back to us when we get lost in the professional world. In the powerful world of jobs and professions we struggle with holding our true language identity because we some dialects are frowned upon in the eyes of power so we learn to talk the same. When we really dig deep enough i think we can really find our true language identity, but only if we take breaks from our jobs and just spend time to interact with the people around you.

Digital Story:

I was a kid born on April 27, 1996 and raised in Philadelphia, PA. Even though I was the only white guy in an urban environment, it was really easy to fit in. I never had a problem with it. Even though I was really white, me being Macedonian made me look Puerto Rican. My whole family looks either Puerto Rican or Mexican. We never knew until every time we went out to eat the waiter would speak to us in Spanish and we would have to tell them we don’t know Spanish.

As I grew up, I spoke 2 languages, English and Albanian. I spoke both at home and at school. In kindergarten, I spoke Albanian to the teacher and she never understood me so my parents had to start speaking English to me all the time to forget Albanian just until I grew up a little older.

“I believed that her English reflected the quality of what she had to say.” (Mother Tongue, page 2) In a way, different people already guess if what the person has to say is important or not. For example, the way I talk with my friends is different than how I talk to my family and how I speak formally. The result of me living in an urban environment affected the different languages I speak. It’s all the same words, but depending on whom I’m talking to, I have limitations for the choices of wording. Around my friends, I have no limitations; I can speak freely; curse a little, use slang, or just speak the language everyone else is speaking, that’s how I code-switch I listen to the language people are talking first then I adapt to it. I would use words like “was good?” to ask “how are you?” or “how’s it going?” or “jawn” to replace the actual thing I’m talking about to save time having to think about what its name is and more on describing it so the person I’m talking to knows what I’m talking about. Basically I can say what whatever I want. Whenever I speak like this, almost anything I say is irrelevant, but it carries a social conversation. Talking to family has limitations; I speak freely, but I don’t curse, or use slang. “Was good” would turn to “hey” or “hi” and I would cut out any language that can get me grounded with my rights taken away. Then when I talk to any other elders or people with power, I speak strictly Standard English and I watch what I say instead of speaking freely to show the quality behind my thoughts using big and meaningful words. Despite the limitations, there are advantages because as I choose the limitations for myself or show the respect I have for people, I gain more respect from the people around me as they see how I show them respect. Respect will always come in handy.

One way I speak with my friends is like when I meet them in the morning at SLA. As I walked into school, I scanned my ID to mark myself present and my day started. “8 O’CLOCK TIME TO GO UP!”, yelled Officer Byrd to get everyone to go to class. I listen to this as I walk in and have to fight the traffic of people walking towards the stairs which are in back of me. I walk over to my friends first because I still have 10 minutes before class starts and I want to wake up fully to begin my day. “WAS GUD BRANDEN?!”, I say in a hyper emotion as I offer a handshake starting from over my head to interlock palms and then pivot the body of our thumbs to switch into a formal handshake. Branden with his black glasses, tan jacket, baggy blue jeans, and grey Nike Air Jordan sneakers responds to my arrival with a hyped up, “REAL N****S!” Of course this response to my question didn’t make sense, but I just went with it and went on to all the rest of my friends giving handshakes and greeting them with, “Wassup yo” (another word we use to say “hey” or “hi” that makes us sound more masculine). They all responded with a regular “Wassup” back, except for Michael. Michael actually started a conversation.

I was waiting in the office. It was going to be another one of those conferences. These conferences were always the one event that I never looked forward to even though I knew I had nothing too bad to worry about. My report card looked amazing. It was definitely something I was proud of. I had A’s in all of my classes’ except for Algebra 1, it’s always math that’s my greatest weakness. I’m good at math, just never good enough to get an A. I always get the B. But that was the last thing on my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the conference was going to be like. I was going to have to translate for my dad and my adviser’s back and forth. I hated talking Bengali in front of people whom I usually spoke English with. I just hated that awkward feel. I could just see the looks of my adviser’s when I start blabbering in Bengali for my dad. I wish that I didn’t have to translate in the first place. I mean my family and I have been living in a English speaking country for such a long time, why is translating so necessary?

Both of my brothers and sisters are a hundred percent fluent in English and I think that a lot of the time we think of English as our default language, putting Bengali second. If we could adjust to English so well why couldn’t my dad? I didn’t understand why my dad couldn’t speak proper English.

I was also upset over the fact that my mom wasn’t coming for the conference and that my dad was coming instead. I never really got a long with my dad. I had always preferred my mom. She always understood how I felt and we rarely ever argued. She also knew better English than my dad did, though she still had an accent. Even still, she spoke good enough to go through a report card conference without needing my help for translation. Also unlike my dad, she took ESOL classes a few years ago and she definitely benefited from it. But unfortunately she wasn’t going to be present during the conference. I sighed and looked at the door.

My dad walked into the office. He came over to me and asked where my conference was going to be.

My dad smiled and nodded at Ms. Diane and headed back out the office door. I followed him out and then stepped ahead of him so I could lead him to Mr. Chase’s room. I knocked on his door and walked in. Mr. Chase and Kay both shook hands with my dad.

I began to talk about my grades and how my hardworking earned me A’s, I talked about when I went to lit/math lab during all of my lunch hours through the benchmark season and how I planned to improve in Algebra by taking more standards the next quarter. After I was done talking I looked at my adviser’s, they smiled and asked me a few questions along with giving me some recommendations so that I could keep up with my good grades. I nodded at my teachers, satisfied with their responses, and unwillingly turned to my dad. He was looking too intently at my report card, I thought he didn’t listen to anything I had said, or even understood anything I had said for the past 5 minutes. I sighed in annoyance, and repeated everything I had already said translating it into Bengali for him. My dad looked at me and the narratives back and forth. He nodded his head when I talked about all the A’s. That’s all he ever cared about. After I was done with the translation I looked back at my adviser's. They smiled.

“Balo corso” My dad said, meaning that I did a good job.

“Great job, kiddo!” Mr. Chase said enthusiastically with a big smile.

“We’re proud of you” Mr. Kay said also smiling widely.

“Thanks” I said quietly.

My dad got up and shook hands with my advisers again. I said bye and headed out the door with my dad.

On the way home I was upset throughout the whole ride. I tried to construct my expression into one that wouldn’t give away any of my hidden emotion that I was feeling at the moment. I didn’t show any sign of dis decency. “Balo corso” that’s all he said. I couldn’t believe it. I worked so hard for the past three quarters in my first year of high school and all I get in the end are two lousy words: “good job?” I could think of so many other things my dad could have said. Things that a parent who spoke and understood perfect English could have said. Maybe something like “You did an amazing job this quarter? I’m so proud of you. Don’t you worry about that B in Algebra, I am a hundred percent sure that you can bring that up with just a little bit more effort.” In my head that seemed to be the perfect thing to say instead of just a “Balo corso.”

As soon as I came home I saw my brother and sister compare their report cards. My dad had picked up theirs just before my conference.

“How’d you do?” My sister said.

“Good, you?” I responded.

“Not bad” She said sounding annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” I said. I could hear the curiosity in my voice.

“You should have seen how my conference went! I had to translate for Abujaan, he didn’t respond to any of the questions that my teachers were asking. And I had to translate the whole time!” She blabbered.

I shook my head and smiled. My sister had basically summarized exactly what had happened in my conference. I think that my dad’s lack of speaking English didn’t just affect me but also my sister.

My dad grew up speaking Bengali and was first introduced to English when we moved to Philadelphia. English as a second language was probably a huge a for him. A change much greater for him, than for my siblings or me. “language spoken in the family, especially in immigrant families which are more insular, plays a large role in shaping the language of the child” said Amy Tan. I think that what Amy Tan is trying to say is that speaking English in a family that that always speaks a different language changes who the person is. Just like my dad, who can be perfectly comfortable speaking Bengali but just as uncomfortable speaking English around those who speak it as their native language. From my experiences speaking Bengali and then learning English along with my family, I can definitely say language plays a big role in my life and it shapes who I am in the different characters that I play in life.

1) Introduction

In the beginning we were asked to make a language autobiography about our language. At first I didn't understand what it meant to write that. After I read some other language autobiographies, I somewhat understood what it meant to write a language autobiography. I think that I wrote something similar to Amy Tan's "Mother Tongue" because I can relate to her. I learned a lot about how people think what languages are and how different we speak even though we all speak english.

2)

 I might still not be an adult now, but I know the experiences of becoming an adult. I was burdened with the responsibility to become my parents, or rather answer the phone calls as them, in the early course of my childhood.. At the time I was only 8 or 9 years old, my parents mostly spoke broken English and I answered most of the calls that came from anyone that was speaking English.

As I was the one going to school in America and spoke English for more than 7 hours a day, I would be the ideal candidate to answer the phone. I was forced to answer all the calls if the call spoke any kind of English. I would be the one answer the calls because my parents were afraid that the caller would take advantage of them not being able to speak English well. Most of the time I had to make up an excuse that “I” was busy. Most of the calls would go.

             “Hello is Mr Le there?”

             “I’m terribly busy, I can’t answer right”

             “When will you be available?”

             “Try again tomorrow at lunch”

After I would hang up the phone, and my parents would ask who called and what did they want. At times I would answer important business calls for my parents, because they wanted to make sure that there weren’t being fooled or conned. My dad would claim that the people who called were mostly asking for money for them or their organizations. The first time that I answered one the calls that was meant for my parents, I was nervous that I would mess up. What 8 or 9 year would answer a phone that could be a very important business. All I wanted to do was do my homework and play with my legos or watch TV. After the first call, I thought was all over, no more calls I would have to answer. Eventually when someone called I was always the one to pick it up, no matter how far I was or how close my parents were. Sometimes I would have to run across the house to pick up the phone, other times it would simply be next to me. I didn’t that I would have to answer a call from a complete stranger in my living room, pretending to be my own parents. What I wondered is that why would the callers push on and still call although. I have denied them so many times. The same thing would apply when we would go shopping; sometimes I had to ask for my parents how much this or that was because they could understand English that well or I had to say It for them because of this broken English. Although my English wasn’t like what it is now, I was able to speak clearly and everyone was able to understand me. Now I’m able to speak clearer and with better grammar. When I speak it doesn’t really show that I’m from Southwest Philadelphia because I don’t tend to use any slang when I speak.

When I was in the position of being my parents, I didn’t feel comfortable because I wasn’t doing something a kid would do at my age. I would have to impersonate my parents when somebody called. I think that influenced the way that I speak now. I think that by speaking properly at a young age, it influenced me to try speaking without any slang. Answering phone calls repeatedly I would have to speak with Standard English to sound like an adult. I couldn’t just speak the way I would if my friends, I would have to speak formally like if I were talking to a teacher or someone important. I think that made me changed the way I spoke even to my friends. Over time I noticed that I got more formal even with my friends and family. I did start getting less formal with my friends but got more formal when talking to adults or symbols of power. I think that when I became my parents when I was younger I was trained to talk in a formal way so that the caller could not recognize that I wasn’t my father.

Most of the time I would code switch between my friends, my parents, and other adults. I think that code switching is important because if were we to speak to adults like we do to our friend then it wouldn’t fit in. We couldn’t just talk to anyone with slang, if an important guess came to visit you would have to speak properly to show a good first impression. When we speak to our friends, we tend to be less formal then we do if we were talking to any adult. It’s important also when you talk to your parents and when you talk to teachers. You can’t just ask the teacher a personal question, like you would ask your parents. Like in “Mother Tongue” by Amy Tan, She talks differently when she’s near her mother or husband. When she’s around Americans, she uses sophisticated phrases Asking a stranger wouldn’t be normal, that’s why code switching is important. Code switching lets us to change our speech depending on where and who were talking to. Everyone code switches everyday, Husbands code switch when they’re near their wife and vice versa, Friends code switch when an adult is around. Everyone code switches at least once a day

Tan, Amy. Mother Tongue. National Council of teachers of english,

3

Language can give so many first impressions of a person. If a person speaks broken English, you automatically assume they don’t know much. If a person speaks with accents, you assume that they are not from the area. The tone of their language and how they use also affects the assumptions people put on the way you speak your language. The way I see it from my family experiences, “broken English” is basically a “simple” version of English.

            The way I showed my language in descriptive scenes was a large part of my autobiography. The dialogue really gave the reader what happened in the moment. The dialogue shows the embarrassment that happens when broken English is spoken in public. I really had a hard time figuring out what the broken English in my family meant, but as I started writing out my scenes I figured out that broken English is a simpler version. Overall, I learned that the broken English used in my family is basically a “simple” version of Standard English that your family and you use to understand each other.

“Cháo”
“Hi”
“Cái nay lam sao?” How do you work this? My cousin said in Vietnamese.
“You turn on the...” As I said those words, I remembered that my cousin couldn’t understand or speak English. I tried to think of Vietnamese words that will translate from what I wanted to say in English.
“You mo cai len” I said nervously.
“Huh?”

My cousin’s confused facial expression made me give up on trying to speak Vietnamese to him. I decided to show him through my actions. I took the remote and showed him where the power button was. I took his hand and pushed his finger down on the power button. The TV turned on, and then he realize how my TV and remote works. Vietnamese was my first language, and I would use it talking to my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. After he left my house, I realized that my Vietnamese is not as good as it used to be.

I noticed that you start losing your language overtime, because you use it less and less everyday. Overtime I knew that speaking Vietnamese was going to be horrible, because of everyday English use. It’s like an exchange student from Puerto Rico coming to America. The student has no choice but to speak English in school. Once I went to school, that’s when my family started to use English to help me in school. My dad started speaking English regularly to me in the house, so everyday I speak less and less Vietnamese. I grew up with Vietnamese and English. Vietnamese was my main language, but as I was exposed to English. I started losing my Vietnamese tongue.

There are many versions of one language. Everyone grows up learning what language they speak by the peers around them. People get used to speaking their family’s native tongue, but when they are in public, the tone of the language, choice, and pronunciation of the words are different. People would speak the way their language is used in their home, but in public they speak Standard English.

Translating was very difficult for me when I was younger, and it still is. I’m not very good at speaking Vietnamese. Whenever you speak Vietnamese or any other language besides English, some letters are pronounced in a different way. For example, in English the letter “a” is pronounced “aye or ah”. In Vietnamese “a” is pronounced “ow”. Whenever I speak Vietnamese, I pronounce the words like they are in English, some of my family can understand, while others have no clue what I am saying. I was always better at understanding Vietnamese than speaking it. My grandpa would always ask how am I doing whenever I go to his house. I would always try to say “I’m good” in Vietnamese. My grandpa would say back to me “No understand”.

My family speaks a lot of broken English, therefore I grew up speaking broken English to my family. I get frustrated whenever my family can’t get their point across speaking broken English. I get annoyed when people ignore and act like they know what my family is saying. They just say “Okay” and nod their heads, but I can tell from their confused expressions that they have no idea what my family is saying. In my mind, I feel that people are judging my family, because they can’t speak proper English. It doesn’t mean that my family is ignorant; they just can’t find the right words to express their thoughts. The embarrassment is not really a big issue for me, but I feel sympathy towards my family. I feel the need to step in and say what my family can’t say.

On my way home from school, my dad decided to get some fast food for me. He stopped by McDonalds, and we both went in to see what they had on the menu. “Hello, what can I get you?” asked the cashier.

“Can I have numba won laaarge, with Coke?” my dad said.
“Can I get number two medium, with Coke?” I said.
“Okay, here’s your receipt. Your order will be with you in a sec.”
As we got our order, my dad wanted some barbeque sauce. He went back to the cashier and asked her for some sauce. “Can I have baabeque saut?”
“Excuse me?” The cashier looked at my dad like he was crazy.
“Can I have baabeque saut?”
“He said he wanted some barbecue sauce” I said strongly and annoyed.
“Dad, come on. Let’s go.”
“Okay Kenny. Why you rush?”

I felt embarrassed for my dad. The look that strangers give my dad because of the way he speaks makes me angry. I became frustrated at my dad, but I hid the frustration. I feel this way, because I don’t want anyone thinking my dad is stupid. People are always making assumptions about how bad people are speaking their second language. I know my dad speaks in broken English, and he tries his best to pronounce the words right. When he speaks in the public and can’t get his point across, I get frustrated and annoyed. I get embarrassed about the way he talks English to strangers. I try not to show him that I’m annoyed, because he can’t help but to talk broken English. At home it doesn’t really matter how my dad speaks because I don’t pay any attention at how he speaks. I understand his broken English, but others do not.

“The English I spoke with my mother, which for a lack of a better term might be described as “simple”; the English she used with me, which for a lack of a better term might be described as “broken”. - Amy Tan

The way I use English to speak with my dad could be called “simple”. To me, I realized it’s more of a “short-cut” than “simple”. I would shorten the usage words in my sentences. The English my dad uses to speak with me is “broken”. My dad asks me “I go to store. What you want from store?” Instead of saying “Can you go to the store and buy me milk?” I would just say, “Buy milk from store”. The English I use to speak with my dad could really be called “simple”, because it’s not how I talk in public. It’s just how I talk in my family, so that they can understand me.

          Being who people want you to be, who you think you are, and who you are, are completely different things. Being who you are means expressing yourself, being the person you want to be, and doing the things you want to do.  Being who you think you are means that you are unsure of who you are and you try to be yourself. However, yourself, your personality is being compromised by what people want you to be. Being who people want you to be means that you are completely compromising your true desires to please the people around you. Ultimately I have experienced all these things. The pattern of identity is different for everyone. Some people are themselves at one point of their lives and change into the way people want them to be. Some people start off as who people want them to be and change into who they truly are. And some people go back and forth between the three levels. I was who people wanted me to be, who I think I was, and now I am Dejah.

            It all started with the way that I talk and where I come from. I am from Germantown, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My family that lives in Philadelphia lives and or grew up in the more dangerous neighborhoods. They talk very differently than I do. We all have the similar Philadelphia accent of saying water ad “wader”. However, their grammar and way of speaking is more southern and old than mine is. They say that I talk “white” because I talk properly.

            My mother and father are the entertainers of our family. We have cookouts all the time. We held one in the summer of 2008, the summer before I switched schools, and the entire family was there. Everyone sat on chairs facing tables on the lawn. My little cousins were running around everywhere and playing in a blow up pool on the sidewalk. I was sitting on my stairs waiting for one of the older women to ask me to get them a glass of water or come up to me and say “ OH MY GOSH SWEETIE! YOU GOT SO BIG! How ya doin?”. And I would answer with the same response, “I’m fine”. I didn’t say this because I couldn’t hold a conversation with someone in my family but more so because the way I talk offended them.

            If I were to have a conversation with one of my aunts they would either tell my dad how well I speak or that I talk like I think that I am better than they are. I do not think that at all. I talk with proper grammar because that is the way that I was taught to talk in school. I guess I talk the way that they feel like they are being talked down to. They never want to talk to me because of this. Therefore, I get talked about and now have the nickname Oreo, black on the outside white on the inside. Instead of fighting it and being who I wanted to be, I gave in and compromised to my family. I don’t talk improperly I just don’t talk at all. This is my way of being who they want me to be because it is easier than being myself.

            Things started to change when I changed schools in seventh grade. At my old school I was judged for talking the way I did because I went to an all African American school. I looked at this new school as a chance to start over in a new place where people don’t know me and can’t make any judgments. The school I went to was more diverse so it was better. I was still talked about because of the way that I talked. However, I started changing the way I dressed and acted. The way I dressed changed because I would buy anything I thought was pretty but nothing that went together. I owned this look because I thought it was “me”. People started talking about the way that I dressed and I thought I had to gain friends back so I started to be a little bit different to earn respect from the popular people. I was so set on who I was at this time. I thought this was just the way that I am going to be for years. In this case, I was being who I though I was. I was acting slightly in the way I wanted because, for years, I was not able to be the person that I wanted to be. However, the way I was acting was not fully “me”. My way of thinking was being compromised by the way people wanted me to be.

            Up until Fall of 2011, I was not fully acting myself. Now I am one hundred percent Dejah. Although some people in my family hate vintage clothing, I love it. I love thrift store shopping and knowing that there is an unknown story behind every piece of clothing. I dress the way I want to dress. I do my hair the way I want it to look. I care about people feeling and try to be as nice as possible. However, I do not let that impact my life to the point where I am completely unhappy. Everyone has changed throughout his or her life. But at this point in mine, I am “me”. I am not who people want me to be. I am not who I think I am. I am Dejah and will forever be Dejah.

III. Digital Story

This story is a revelation and I reflection that I had about my life.

I: Introduction & Reflection:

The task was to explore the complexity of language in one's own life. For myself, I discussed the two languages I am most familiar with and my dislike for the English language, my primary language. I took out of this that language causes barriers and more differences for people to be judged. I realized America may not be able to make two to three mandatory language classes because it's a melting pot of cultures and languages itself. But, I know America has limited it's horizons by having English as it's primary language. By having one language, that forcers people conform to that one language and being able to get around and get the necessity one needs.

II: The Autobiography

English is usually the first language of all citizens in the United States if their parents’ only language is English. The language is the primary spoken in the U.S. and it’s taken a lot of it’s content from the West Germanic Language. Although the States is a melting pot of cultures, it’s still key to know English.

With that said, it’s widely taught in schools around the world. But this isn’t the same for schools in the U.S. boundaries. Excluding bilingual oriented schools, which there aren’t many of and have private school tuition, English is a mandatory class through out any person’s schooling career. It’s been scientifically proven that the language that’s introduced to kids from ages one to three, is going to be their first language. It’s intriguing that the U.S. hasn’t taken that into consideration being that other countries teach one or two other languages in their schools. It is because the States don’t have a unified culture? Maybe, maybe not.

         For myself, the English is a boring, bland language. I’ve been speaking it my whole life and I’ve just realized my dislike for my native language. Around the middle of my sophomore year. There is no specific reason I can pinpoint, but it’s a different aspect of the language I’ve gotten in upon my entry of high school. With my aversion to English, I’ve looked into two different languages along with their cultures, German and a general perspective on Spanish.

         Through my experiences in Spanish, it didn’t entice me until I learned about it in high school. But, in the times of my previous Spanish exploration, learning about the language didn’t help with remiss teachers. Once I came to enjoy German, my distaste for my first language started to take root.

         Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, ocho, nueve, deiz. That’s all I learned in kindergarten. Then in a different school, first through second, I learned French. Till this day I only thing I can remember are the numbers. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix. That was it from that language. After that, from third to sixth grade it was a dormant stage in my life of not learning any type of language. The school I had attended didn’t have an adequate foreign language program, so at my expense, I didn’t learn anything.

         Going to another school, for sixth grade, I picked up Spanish again. I was taught out of purple books that had supposed Hispanic aliens, with no parents traveling with them on earth. Befuddled at the sight, I had to maneuver my way of trying to understand the lesson in such a strange book. My first, of the four main teachers I had, was the most influential. She made the class memorize verses to try to retain the new language. I never successfully memorized it, but my peers did. My excuse was that I was new.

She lasted three to five months. After that, my class had different substitutes teaching us the same material over and over again. Then a Peruvian native replaced the original teacher. Upon her joining our class, she taught us the same things again, then started correcting the purple book I had became so familiar with. My peers and I suffered from her lack of knowledge how to teach her native language. By the end of the year, she was in danger of being deported. After that, Spanish became a rant session for her. About all her problems. My sixth grade year of Spanish: FAIL.

The teacher I had for seventh grade only taught the children she favored in the class. Which was one girl, who could already understand Spanish, so again the whole class suffered. My seventh grade year of “Hispanic lingo”: FAIL.

With yet another different teacher in eighth grade, she taught us the same material that we had been learning our whole middle school careers. My eighth grade year of Spanish: FAIL. After all of those experience, it’s surprised to say, this all happened in a private school.

         Upon entering highschool, I was placed in Spanish 2. I thought I had been put into the wrong class, but I was in the right place. I thought I would’ve had been able to handle the course, but the fruits of my efforts caused me to get “A’s” all quarters. Even with those “A’s”, I didn’t retain any of the information I was taught. My Hispanic friends became my “teachers” and that’s how I know the Spanish I know now, other than learning on the Internet.

In the beginning of Sophomore year, my friend began to teach me German. I wasn’t interested in it at the time, but it began to grow on me. Once I realized I liked German, I began to learn and started yet another online course. Ein, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sech, siebe, acht, nuen, zehn…  My friend would test me on the days of the weeks, “Donnerstag,” she’d say. “It’s Thursday,” I’d respond correctly. And so… “Montag, Dienstag, Mittwoch,” she’d test me. “Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.”

When I began to engage myself in German language, I began to dislike English. I felt English was dull. I had dove into the German and Spanish cultures, and to me, it seemed so much more interesting than the absent culture that English and America, as a whole has, since it’s a melting pot of many different people from all over the world. 

I.       Ethan Reese

1/6/12

The project was to write a story about a struggle that had to do with you and language. Your overall goal was to link your story to a larger Idea about how language is power or other themes of language. My theme was about how when you take a persons voice away you’re taking away so much more, and there were parts that were easy but parts that I had to struggle. One of the parts that were easy for me was conveying a message about how easy it is to lose your confidence and all social life if your voice is repressed enough. Something I struggled with was trying to remember more than two times that my voice had been repressed, and how to describe the scenes I could only remember a little. What I learned from doing this project was how every language and every voice is important to someone else, imagines all the things that would have happened if historical people didn’t speak out. I can truly say I have a better understanding of language. 

So that brings us to present day, my family listens to my thoughts and feelings even though I don't speak German and I’m confident enough to overpower their voices, as for my friends I have ones now that understand what I’m saying in my own voice. I now have a deeper understanding that language is identity it shows who you are under all your layers it is how you talk and form your self, I can truly say I have found my Identity... I can say I have found my voice.