Language Autobiography

Final

As a young boy I grew up in a home where we had our own type of dialect as with which we communicated amongst each other. In my family we would tend to make smart remarks or comments to one another, but in a harmless, just messing with you type of way. For example I would say “Is today Tuesday?” and my mother would reply with “No Brent its Thursday in a sarcastic voice, that was a casual occurrence in my household, where we could make fun of each other without hurting someones feelings or coming off disrespectful, but in school, it was a totally different story. I was a quiet mouse in a big room of people just waiting for the class to end. I was very shy when I was younger and didn’t like to talk much. Around 3rd grade I felt things were difficult.

Whenever the teacher would ask a question I’d never put my hand up because I was afraid. I would think to myself, what if I know it but the words come out wrong, what if I just have no clue as to what I’d be talking about? I remember were taking a class in math when she handed me the quiz I felt like I didn’t know any of the answers. I wasn’t confident with my work and I felt intimidated that if I got the answers wrong the teacher would be upset with me or would think of me as dumb. After the quiz she would have us go over it in class. she read out the first question “ If john has 18 gumballs and he splits all of them with his 3 friends how many will each friend receive?” she looked across the room as everyone was dead silent.

I tried to not make eye contact thinking that she would possibly not notice me. She said “How about you Brent?” All my classmates simultaneously turned their heads around to look at me. I looked down in despair. “Come on Brent just try it out” I would always get nervous when she asked a question and began to stutter or mumble my words. “Si-si-six I said in a low toned voice. “What was that Brent?” I thought i had the wrong answer because she asked to repeat myself”  My voice got even lower “Si-si-six” she still couldn’t hear me but picked on a classmate. “Six” one of my classmates said. I thought in my head i was right, but i stayed quiet. after she finished going over the test it was time to leave.

As I rapidly packed up my things and put 1 foot out the door. She squalled my name “BRENT” the echoes traveled all throughout the room which made it even louder. I turned around and she said “Come here for a moment please” “Brent you should really start speaking more clearly, your a very smart boy but your so quiet that you make it out as if you don’t know anything” I looked down at my shoes and said “I’m sorry Ms. Nachman” she said “ There’s nothing to be sorry about Brent. You’re very smart you just need to show it” “I want you to take this note home to your mother”. “ I said okay” and went onto lunch. Progressing I arrive home and my mom is already there. She greets me with a warm “Hi Brent” Then gives me this look that pierced right through me. “what’s that on your shirt” “It’s a note about how I’m such an amazing student mom…” “Don’t joke with me Brent… give it here” She snags the note from off my shirt and began to read. “Brent you’re the loudest one in this house so what’s up with this quietness in class?” “I just get nervous in class”. She bursted out laughing and said in a tiny southern accent that an average person would most likely not notice she said “ What duh helll !? You’re pulling my leg right?. “Does it look like I’m pulling your leg?” “Shush brent.. whatever the case may be you need to fix this.” I told her “fine” and went onto my room.

After talking with my mom and going to school the next day I still remained quiet.. I was still nervous to answer. I did happen to become more talkative outside of class with my friends at lunch on the playground etc.. In class I still felt the need to be that quiet little mouse. You could relate my story to tongue-tied in a way. It may not have been that my first language was something totally different than what I was being taught in school but the fact that I was unable to really voice myself due to my insecurities and emotions. I felt I would be judged, criticized, laughed at for being myself. I praised the phrase “Be seen not heard” as if it was a religion all my own. Just being there was good enough, My voice didn’t need to be heard I just needed to take the characteristics of a chameleon and blend in. In a way I had two sides of me that switches depending on where I am and who I’m with. I tend to be shy when I feel intimidated and when I’m comfortable with someone I can act naturally. In a way it’s like my own defense mechanism that I think every human being comes with.