Jesús Jimenez
Language Autobiography

    I’ve never been able to hold on to that wild horse that was my identity, during grade school. Being Mexican-American gave me a good sense of pride and a certain type of secureness that my parents couldn’t provide in my young life. Identifying who I was back then was a feat that at the time was too much pressure for an second grader. Stereotypes were something that messed up my social life, leading me into conclusions about who I needed to be.
    My second grade class was filled with Cambodians, African-Americans, and many other people you would find in South Philly. I was the only Mexican that I know that attended my school at the time. And a lot of people looked at me as if I was something else, they thought I was a person who jumped a border to come to this country, the way the media presented it. The reality was, that I was the kid that lived down your block and and has been living there since living there since forever. Back at that point in time at school, we read stories about people in the huge textbooks, you know, the ones bigger than your face. And once in a while, we got to a story that had a hispanic child struggling in the Bronx. You don’t know how many times I’ve read that story, each in a different incarnation. Anyway, I’ve always compared my life to those stories, often referring to them as fiction. The other kids in the classroom always looked at me at the end of every story, having the idea in their heads that I was this hispanic boy who spoke to his abuelita in Spanglish. It wasn’t like that at all. Kids sometimes went up to me and asked me “How do you say “@#$&%” in Spanish. Of course I knew Spanish, but there was a certain feel when they asked me that. Disgust and dirtiness of telling them the word to satisfy their curiosity felt like all the bad things in Pandora’s box coming at me, but the pride and knowing something they wanted to know felt kind of like, I was better than them. I know it sounds horrible saying I’m better than someone but that’s the I way I felt then. My Mom even explained the equality of every person to me once, but sometimes her definitions don’t exactly match those of society’s.

“Hijo, ningun humano es mejor que otro” meaning “Son, no human is better than another.” is what my mother said.
It’s the truth in my opinion, but sadly I contradicted this lesson I was given... and it felt good. It had given me a huge ego and felt exactly like the time spiderman got his new suit with venom.
The whole translating words thing ended quickly, it was basically a fad. I kind of established that I was bilingual after the 10th translated word or so. Kids didn’t care anymore after a while. 
Time passed and eventually I got to Middle School, where kids start growing hair in all the wrong places and you make the dramatic change from a cubby to a locker. My motivation to do good in school was now structured from a “I want to get out of here!” feeling. People saw me as “smart” although I just figured “I’m not smart, you guys are just too lazy.”
    Middle School actually was the time where I started using Spanish more, I helped translate for my parents during parent teacher conferences, more Spanish speaking students came to our school, so I was kind of used as a resource tool to those who didn’t feel comfortable speaking English. I attracted many Latinos/Hispanics in my school community. But when they started asking to be my friend and go to their birthday parties, that became an issue with me. I personally, didn’t want to be friends with them. I didn’t like seeing myself fitting in with them, and I didn’t feel like fitting in, they were just too stereotypical. Stereotypes are something I can’t stand. Even with my hatred for stereotypes, I somehow became friends with them, unwillingly. But I managed to have a small number of these “friends”, even with that small number there still came trouble.
So one day this boy named Gustavo walks up to me,
“Jesús! Como estas guey?”
“Hey! Estoy bien... que pasa?
“Mira..” I’m not going into the whole conversation, but the point is that my group of friends want me to choose between them and my new friends I just met a couple days ago.
Anyway, then a kid named Pablo comes over and says to Gustavo...
“Guey, que le dices a mi compa?”
“I’m your compa?” I said suspiciously.
“Claro! Si tu...” Then Pablo gets “Kanyed” by Gustavo.
Again, I don’t want to go into too much detail about what they said. They insulted each other and  almost got into a fight. Over me. This whole “friendship” thing was getting out of control, the least I wanted was to get into a fight myself. I was literally like watching two kids fight over a toy. Maybe that’s what I was to them, a toy, a novelty. It was the same reason why all the kids made me do all the work in group projects, why I let kids copy from my quizzes, and why Gustavo and Pablo were fighting over me. If I was just going to be liked for being “smart”, and be used as a statistic for school or the school district, I didn’t want any part of this. I wanted to leave everything behind. My Mexican identity, my American identity, my smartness, my Spanish, everything! I was ashamed of who I was because it confused me about what I wanted for myself. If speaking a second language proved kids to be smart and get an education, and getting a GOOD education was rare for Mexican-Americans as a statistic, then I was already half way done being on either side of the scale. I couldn’t help it.

    It wasn’t until my 8th grade year where I didn’t care at all. My language and identity were something I didn’t care for anymore. I was simply just another student, and didn’t care about my grades, I just let them come naturally. I think I was covered in a veil, and it didn’t let me see how this whole identity thing works. It’s not bad and it’s not good either. It’s the in between thing that kind of classifies us where we need it. The language I spoke was a huge benefit, that I didn’t realize existed. No, it wasn’t translating slang to immature kids, it was communicating between people. It’s alright if I didn’t use it in my younger years, what mattered was that I knew that it is a part of me.
    As I progressed in my school life, I’ve gotten time to think. Now, as I write this language autobiography, it seems I went through a lot of reflection to get to where my mind is now. The Jesús Jimenez that existed in elementary and middle school changed a lot. Want to know what I think now? Well, now I think my identity isn’t what I feel like that I want to be, that comes after I’ve accomplished something that makes people recognize me for that. Spanish is part of my identity, I speak it at home, with Mrs. Hirschfield, and whenever I help my friends with spanish homework. It’s a skill that I’ve gained through interacting with my environment. It’s part of my history. Being a Mexican-American living in Philadelphia gives my life a little twist and excitement, and people aren’t sure about me and it gives me something to talk about when they get to know me. A big difference between then and now, is that I’m glad that I’m a spanish speaking Mexican. Because without that identity, I wouldn’t or couldn’t continue being me.

            Boom! Bang! Bang! “Ha take that,” I said to the people on my Xbox 360. Then my family ran in like a pack of wild wolves knocking things over and tripping over each other and they say  “Mat turn your game off the Phillies are on.” At the time, I was too into my game and didn’t care about the World Series and kept playing. Then my mom’s voice got serious and I turned off my game quicker than a little kid runs and gets ice cream.           

The house started shaking after every run the Phillies scored and it was like the air was sucked out of the room every time they scored. It was now the 9^th inning and the Phillies were up 3 to 2 and Brad Lidge was pitching everyone was nervous and the pitches came in.  1 out. The room started to fell tenser. 2 outs. Everyone sat at the edge of his or her seats praying we got this last strike out. 3 outs my family went crazy and knocked over the wood framed picture of my sister and the glass cracked and flew everywhere as they ran out the door. We were not the only one’s outside there were many others outside screaming and cheering. We headed down to Main Street There were a lot of Phillies fans down there, spraying multi-colored silly string, drinking and jumping around which cause their Phillies hats to fall to the ground. I had to get away from the party because I had to wake up early the next day to go to school. 

When I woke up the next day I got down on my hands and knees and begged my mom to stay home like someone would beg god for forgiveness. She said “ Mat I already told you, that you can’t because you already missed enough from being sick with a stomach virus”! I just kept begging but every time I got the no response. So eventually I gave up. I got showered got dressed with all my Phillies stuff and when I went downstairs I grabbed my Phillies hat that had a brown Phillies P surrounded by an ocean of sky blue and a brown and white diagonally checkered rim, and put on my head in a tilt. As I walked up to the bus stop every Phillies fan that saw me, said “yeah go Phillies” and every Ray’s fan that I saw looked at me and just put their head down in shame and every time that happened I would get a smile on my face as if I was the one who beat the Tampa Bay Ray’s. When I got on the cheese bus all my friends had on their red and white to represent their team except for my one friend that sat in the back and looked like he was as lonelier than someone stranded on a faraway island. I sat next to my tall friend and he handed me a twenty-dollar bill from the bet that we made a couple weeks before the World Series started. I respected that he lived up to his word so I handed it back to him and said, “Keep it” he immediately lifted his head said “thanks” and smiled. It was then that I realized that friends could be just like family sometimes.

When I got into school it was like my couple of friends and I were isolated. We could hear the water drip from the sinks on the third floor. The school was almost completely empty. There were about 10 kids out of 22 in every class and the teachers didn’t want the other kids to get behind so we were allowed to get on the computers. My friends and I all got on game websites such as www.addictinggames.com and www.maxgames.com this was all before the school district blocked everything but that’s a different story. After about two classes of nothing but games we all decided to start helping each other in subjects that we didn’t understand or homework we didn’t do. While we were doing that two of my friends got into a fight over a reason that I don’t know. Knowing that they were both my friends and friends with each other me and my other friend held them both back so that we could stop the fight. After the heat got turned down we let them go so that they could talk it out. By the next class they were both friends again and messing around with each other. I realized that friends and family all do things together and help each other out no matter what the circumstances and that encouraged me to go home and hug everyone of my family members.

When it comes to Code-switching, I switch based on the situation and how old the person is that I’m talking to. There are times when I will talk polite to people, those people are normally older people, Organizations, Strangers, and people I admire. Here is a conversation between Mehdi Adineh and I: 

“Hey Mehdi,

Sorry for not getting back to you lately. I've been busy with different projects and tennis. I just wanted to tell you for the TFI Project I'm doing the image outputs are JPEG. The other project for engineering on Pattern Recognition with cancer in medical imaging, I haven't been able to find many things on it but I've been working with my school librarian to find sources both in the library and on some internet databases he knows of. I'm going to be going back to him this week a couple times to work on it. Also, my Advanced Engineering teacher extended the due date to in a couple weeks so once I get a rough draft done I'll email it to you and any sources I find I'll email you the link or name of the book/article/magazine so you can check it out and confirm if it is a good source to use. Thanks”

As I get closer and closer to a person whether its Derrick, Mehdi, or TFI Employees, I start to become less and less formal as we are becoming good friends. For Derrick Pitts, I’ve known him since March and we talk both formal and casual to each other. Here’s a conversation between him and I:

“Is there a certain time I should come to talk with the vice president about the adobe licenses? Or are you just going to talk to him? Thanks”

One thing that I always do in my emails is say “Thanks” at the end. It’s a habit I have and use all the time. What happened was Derrick asked me to do a project for him last year as my science fair and I continued it into this year and possibly next year so it is my ILP and I work with Alex, Jesús, and Allen who I recruited to help me last year. We need adobe lightroom licenses to advance in the project so I need 2 licenses for it and Derrick suggested meeting with the vice-president of the Franklin Institute to discuss buying the adobe licenses. Derrick decided to go meet with the vice president himself though. There are many other instances I have that show my Language identity around strangers but then that would be boring, now wouldn’t it?

Another time I code switch is at tennis, especially around friends. When it comes to my friends and coaches I hang out with and hit with all the time I speak informally, but when It comes the the Board of Directors at Ashe, the president of Ashe, and the employees I don’t know I speak formally. Here is a conversation between Kein and I: 

T:“Kein, don’t tell me your actually going to play while eating pizza?”

K:“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

T:“That’s true, you are Kein and you do have to teach a lesson.”

K:“That’s right and you have a long way to go to play while eating.”

T:“Oh well thats too bad since I’ve already eaten food while playing. I ate 2 soft pretzels while playing and a cookie another day. So ha.”

K:“Oh damn, Tyler’s bringing it on.”

This is what I remember from the conversation but the entire background behind it is I buy pizza for the coaches and me every Saturday I go to Ashe since I normally stay for the day and the coaches are like my second family to me. Kein is the silly, playful, and full-of-energy coach at Ashe, who likes to mess around with me. I remember one time during one of the tennis clinics, Kein ran out on court in a bunny suit and a humongous tennis racket (I’m serious, it was huge, it must have been at least the size of 5-6 tennis rackets put together) and he told the person I was rallying with to let him rally against me for a minute (with the humongous racket). It was one of the biggest fails I had ever seen in my life since I hit the ball once and I guess it was heavy for him so he couldn’t swing it as fast as with the racket he normally uses.

Another time I Code-switch is when I’m at school. I will speak informally to friends and some teachers, and formally to the other teachers and guests. I speak informally a lot to my advisor, Mr. Sanchez. Here’s a conversation between him and I:

Sanchez: “Hey, thanks for the update Tyler. I'm sure your teachers appreciate it, too.”

Me: “okay and are we playing ping pong after school today? I should be back from the art museum by the end of the school day.”

Right now its tied 3-3 in matches won between me and Mr. Sanchez. What I mean is Mr. Sanchez challenged me to ping pong (My nickname at SLA is King Ping) and we agreed that if I beat Mr. Sanchez 99 times before he beats me 99 times, then he will give all his classes A’s, but if he wins 99 times before I beat him 99 times, I have to do pushups till he says stop I think it was. I love ping pong and I’m called King Ping by classmates since I haven’t been beaten by any student at SLA. It really fun talking to Mr. Sanchez and playing him in ping pong since he continuously thinks he can beat me.

The last Code-switching I do is when I’m around family and people I love and admire. Depending on which cousin, uncle, aunt, and grandparent I’m talking to I change. When I am around my brother, Ellen, Grandpa Morales, Grandma Morales, Jen, and Cha Cha and others, I talk to them both formally and informally. Others I in my family I talk to either just informally or formally. The 4 people I love to talk to the most are Ellen, Grandpa Morales, Grandma Morales, and Cha Cha. Here is a conversation between Grandpa Morales and me:

Grandpa: “So Tyler, did you see the U.S. Open match between Nadal and Verdasco?”

Me: “Yeah that match was amazing and the intensity of their play was overwhelming.”

Grandpa: “You’re right, did you see the new guys play too?”

Me: “No I only saw the Nadal matches since whenever I turned to the US Open it was a Nadal match. Why are the new guys any good?”

Grandpa: Yeah, they are but not as good as Nadal. At least, not yet hahaha.”

This is one of my most favorite people on the planet for a lot of reasons. The major reason is because he is the person who inspired me and got me into tennis, which now makes up most of my life. Also because he gives me tips on tennis and who to watch, he is also the person who taught me how to hit drop shots. Its actually pretty funny because my grandpa plays regularly at a club and all his fellow tennis players called him the “Hermanator” since he always wins the point when he hits a drop shot, which is why he always wins. They used to tell people who got drop shotted by Grandpa, “You just got Hermanated”. He’s also the grandpa who is silly, fun to be around, and acts like a little kid, like me, even though he’s 86. When I’m with my grandpa, I usually speak both formally and informally because I admire him and am really close to him.

That is how I code-switch daily and why do I code-switch? I code-switch because it makes me feel comfortable around whoever I’m talking to so I don’t feel like I’m being mean or too nice. It’s also just something that I grew up with. Well, thats how I code-switch.

My day.

Laugh’s, cheers, fun as we were approaching the field dead silence came upon us. It was an amazing bus, fun, laughs, people singing, laughing, and having a good time like we weren’t about to play are first game it was the most important in my eye’s.  We saw the field it was a beautiful amazing sight. We got all are things and did are running, it felt like seconds doing all that. Then the opposing school bus came all eyes on them as they got off their bus. We saw them they looked menacing; they had the eyes locked on us like a snake eyeing it’s pray. We tried to look more menacing, but got a burst of laughter instead that’s what are team is like, were good people.  We stretched and did drills laughs fun trying to ease the mood. Game time I didn’t start, and me sitting on the bench felt like hours.

My name would be called soon, as I heard my name my heart dropped to my stomach, it was the first time I played in a soccer game, because I was never good enough to play, but hard work has it benefits.  As the game started we scored, it was a senior James he was an amazing player, he’s movements were fluid as a butterfly he was no doubt are best player, without him we wouldn’t be where we are now. Another goal in an instant I was on the field, which made me feel better. I thought what If I messed up what if we lost because of me and I would be off the team and my time to shine got darker like the door at the end of the light. Then I remembered my captain said don’t think about anything just think about getting the ball. When I got in I was running my hardest breathing my hardest, and through all of my hard work through the summer I made a great pass.  Which caught my coaches eye and a lot of my peers as well, I got cheers and I heard my name could of possible been the best moment of my year so far it was amazing. Then half time I was feeling good and we were up 4-1.

Coach put me in and it felt amazing running out there time flies by and when you get the rush from kicking the ball and hearing the team shouts your name there is nothing else like it. Like a kick, or a rush like drinking an energy drink. It was fun and I was doing a good job. Then I was taken out again good breather because I was getting really tired, friends all loved how I played and we had laughs and had a fun time it was a fame but it felt like I was at school having fun and being myself. Then we scored again, the game was practically over, and Coach told us not to score again which showed great sportsmanship and how good of a guy he is. Then when I as about to get in for the last time no butterfly’s this time no pressure are goalie made a bad mistake which got them back in the game and added extra pressure. But no mistakes, the game was over. They have to beat us, we don’t beat are self’s.

The bus didn’t come for hours we were bored, hot hungry, and thirsty but were all sillies and played more soccer. Boring bus ride. Once we got there we got are stuff and there was Maggie and Justin waiting for us.

Me, Matt, Mike, Justin and Maggie wanted to go to 5 guys and we were desperately and tired but 5 guys were worth it. It took forever once we got on in but again it was worth it amazing burger a meal worth are win. laughs, fun and good food! Matt found a 5-dollar bill so we got more fries, their fries are amazing.  It was time to leave then we all said are good-byes and we left. Matt and me walked the rest of the from Snyder. The walk was fun it was are usual walk we made fun of each other had laughs and talked about the game matt was a ball boy that day I made fun of him it was a good bye. As I said my goodbye’s I say the whole day before me and I said “ what a good day” I got home I told my mom and dad about my game they were proud of my upset they couldn’t be there but proud. Then I laid my head on my pillow and said “ what a good day”

Marina Pyfrom

C- Band

12/17/10

Benchmark Rough Draft

            “Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.”- Maya Angelou.  I hate to say it but sometimes people are not giving that opportunity without being judged. I know personally from experiences. Making your voice heard in certain places can often make you the outsider. Pronunciation of words can determine your place like education, learning process, and etc.  Language will always be distinguished, for the wrong things. People need to stop portraying the idea of the “perfect or correct” language. It doesn’t exist.

            As I sat in the reclining chair, looking at the mural of dancing toothbrushes, I waited patiently. My dentist came rushing in to check up on me because he knew I been waiting.

“Ahh , Marina, how have you been” ,said Mr. Solov as he sat in his little rolling stool.

“I’m fine,” I responded, readjusting my head so the dentist can check my teeth.

“Uhm, will can I get braces”, I said sort of mumbling.

“Oh yeah, let me check right now”, said Mr. Solov.

He placed the mirror like object in my mouth. He started making noises of reassurance “uhmm mhmm hmm”

“Marina, can you move your tongue back, and talk, it doesn’t matter what you say”, said the dentist.

I tried to position my mouth, to perform the exercise, as I was instructed to do. I failed the task horribly.

“I know the problem” ,said the dentist but I had cut him off saying, “Wooah, what problem, am I gonna die.”

He said with laughter “Noo silly, it’s not a big problem, just if you want braces, I would have to perform an additional operation because of your tongue condition”.

“What’s wrong with my tongue” I said with a crackling tone.

“Nothing, major. You just have a lisp. Do you notice how sometimes, maybe all the time, you tongue hangs or you always have your mouth open. Or maybe when you say some words the letter “s” slurs. Some say you have some type of speech impediment. Maybe its runs in your family.” Explained Mr. Solov.

            Listening to the dentist, I thought about the past. I never really noticed anything wrong with the way I talk. But now I was piecing the puzzle together. Sometimes while reading I struggled with words. It wasn’t because I never saw the word before and was sounding it out, it was the way I pronounced it, It wasn’t correct to my teachers.

Soon after my mom entered the room with my doctor and he briefly went over with her what he told me.

“Marina, its nothing wrong with it.” Said. Mr. Solow

            Mr. Solow was wrong. My lisp was the reason for everything. The arguments with teachers, they would always correct me as if I had no clue what I was doing.

            United States of America was said to be a free land of change, diversity, and a new start.  Accepting of any kind in any condition. “Don’t judge a book by its cover” was the line all adults taught children. How come it doesn’t go for adults also? I simply stumble on a couple words.             Just because I slur the letter “s”, making the “z” sound, it doesn’t make me any different. But, now living during this time I am labeled and categorized as “having a speech impediment”.

            I don’t understand how people down in the Caribbean have grown accustomed to the lisps for generation and generation. They may not even know what a lisp is.  Their thick accents over power what people from America call “lisps”. They pay no attention to because it is not important. Long as they are communicating, then nothing else matters.  Us, as Americans worry too much about stuff that is irrelevant, well to me it is. Like if you use improper over Standard English, it is a problem and you get penalized.

            You get punished for speaking, looked downed upon when heard. From having a tiny lisp made me the outsider. “the confidence of “belonging” in the public was withheld from them both” ( Aria by Richard Rodriguez , pg. 12)  I know the feeling and isn’t a good one. Hopefully, it will be figured out that everything with Language will forever be judged.  Sooner or later it will be discovered that “correct” language is not obtainable.

Ashyne Bright

12/16/10

“Ashyné” my grandmother called my down stairs, in a loud aggravated voice. “Yes!” “Why didn’t you call Kevin when you got to church?” “I didn’t have my jack wit me when I got dere, why didn’t he hit me up on da cellie?” I said in a loud kind of what are you talking about voice. “Huh?” she said in a confused tone with a blank expression. “what are you talking about Ashyné. I don’t know what you kids are saying these days. You all talk like your retarded.” Rubbing her arthritis-ridden hand and giving me the ‘I just caught the stomach virus’ look. (WHY IS IT BOLDED?)

I never thought about exactly what I was saying to my grandmother. I grew up with “proper English”, but when I hang around kids my age that is not how we talk to each other. I’m so use to speaking the slang that my friends and I use when we are with each other, that it has become a first nature to talk like that. I catch myself sometimes when I am talking to adults. I code switch when I am talking to someone older but sometimes I just forget at home or at church, because I am so relaxed and sometimes around my friends that I just fall back into that dialect.

I don’t think that I would be able to survive in the world of teenager in this day in age if I didn’t know the language and/or dialect that they/we speak. It would be hard for me to understand what teenagers are saying, just like my grandmother was having a hard time with understanding what exactly I was saying I think I would be in the same situations. I don’t think that I would be able to have the good friends that I have now or be able to relate to them as much as I do. Maybe even if they, the teenagers, would be able to relate to me.

“Omg I need 2 get da hell out of diz got damn house yo” I said to my friend nisse as we sat on my front porch steps. Nisse with the concerned face says, “Gurl why ? what did your gmom do to you now ? I mean because yaw always getting into dumbass argument. Im not surprised that you do wanna leave this hell hole.” I look at her with for about 20 seconds trying to figure out how to explain how I felt toward my family and this house. “Nisse I jus can’t be in diz house o more. My gmom don’t understand the fact that im not goin to eva be straight and my aunts critics me every time they get a chance to. This is not the way…” in the mid-sentence Nisse says “Nay baby you gotta understand dat it isn’t easy for your family to except it but I mean I see wat you are sayin to me right now. But you gota give it sum time love you can’t…” “Stop!” I said. I didn’t want her to finish her sentence because I already knew what she was going to say.

“Ashyne I know diz is going to be difficult but I went through da same tingz wit my family when I told dem I was gay. Dey flipped on me. Dey couldn’t understand why I was doing diz. But I had to give them time Nay. You gotta.” I had a deep since of pain come into the side of my chest as i tried to get my next response out but I couldn’t. I put my hot palm on my light skinned face. Placing them over my brown watered eyes to hide the rainfall that was about to come out of them. “Come here, Nay. Come here.” Nisse said with a voice of compassion as she layed my head on her lap and rubbed my back. She said, “It’s going to be okay Nay Nay. Im here for you through wat eva baby gurl. I got chu even if no one else does. I got chu nay. And I will always love you for who you are regardless of wat othaz say. I love you.” With a cracked voice I said “ I love you too”.

Talking to my friends with that type of dialect (DEFINE WHAT DIAECT) is the how we connect to each other.  I think talking to any teenager of this day and age would connect better with this language/dialect (WHY?). In the story Tongue Tied, the girl would have to speak (SPOKE) English when she was at school. She would have to leave her heritage at home and speak how everyone else did. When ever she was caught speaking Spanish in the schoolyard. The teacher would give her a whipping. They didn’t allow her to be herself. The teachers at the school and the kids couldn’t connect with her because she didn’t speak their language to well.

When Non-English speaking people went to college they had to talk speech classes to get rid of there accents. It was very hard them to get a job because of there accents. This is another example o connection. They boss, employees, and anyone else of that matter would be able to really connect or get to know them because of the way they talk and people language understanding.

Most people don’t take the time to sit there and understand someone. They just take what they think is right out of what they are saying and act off of that. Or they just don’t react or take anything from what they are saying because most people would rather stay in ignorance. It is hard for someone who hasn’t grew up in a certain dialect/language to comprehended what other ethnic groups, neighborhood clicks, or any other language but there’s.

“Who was that Girl

She sat on her bed and started thinking about all the possible things she could have said or should have said. She wondered what she would be doing if she had done those things she set her mind to do. She was starting to prove people right that she was just what people thought she was, had the attitude, mouth and everything to let people know that she is just like everyone else. Then she thought, “ Now that it went that way I have to make it work for my benefit.” This is her story. 

Growing up she was always told that she spoke so proper and that she had manners, but has diapers turned into panties she was told other wise. She was constantly told that her attitude wasn’t going to get her anywhere that if she kept going with her smart-ass mouth she wouldn’t make it far. That didn’t stop her or the way she was act. She was her own person and couldn’t let anyone else try and live her life for her. 

As she got older something she notice that didn’t bother her at first was everyone calling her an “ass” or saying she was a “smart-ass.” But it seemed she was being called it more and more. Then she started to realize is she that type of person? Is she called a “smart-ass” because of the comments she makes or because of the remarks she makes? Why can’t she just act her self and not be judged by anyone? 

She remembered arguing with her brother one night and they were just going back and forth.

“That’s why your mom eats dirt,” she said.

“ Why would you say something like that you ass,” her brother responded

“Don’t call me an ass. Do it again and I’m going to punch you in the neck,” she had said back to him.

He responded back in slow motion, “ You A s s. You ain’t going to do anything you a s s.”

She got mad and punched him in the neck. They started fighting in her room like to hard-core thug guys. After they were done they were laughing about the whole thing but that stayed on her mind in the back.

As she went to school and continued with her life she had gotten this attitude as if she didn’t care about what people had to say or what people thought of her. People said negative things to her all the time but she was sure that she was not going to let any of that get to her. They told her countless times that, “She’s going to be a pregnant teen. That her smart mouth is going to get her in trouble. That no one is going to take her seriously with her attitude.” And each time the only thing she could think or say is that she will prove every person that said she wouldn’t make it and show them that she can. 

One evening she was having a conversation with her mom and the only thing her mom could comment on was the way she talked. Her mother talked about her speech non-stop and criticized everything that came out her mouth. 

 “You used to talk perfect when you were younger and know you sound like a ghetto chick,” her mother would say.

“You always talking ‘bout someone and criticizing them. You don’t have the best speech in the world either,” she would say to make her mom feel just as bad.

“You need to practice the way you speak and improve on it. Stop talking all loud and ghetto like your not educated,” her mom replied. 

“I am very educated and speak perfectly fine,” she would say. And from there she would just leave the problem alone.

Not until she was in her English class that she realized everyone talks 

differently and everyone has there own form of talking and understanding each 

other. Everyone talks a way based on their ethnic group or were there from. Whether 

they’re from the city or if they’re from the country everyone has there own certain 

speech. And when she realized that she realized that there is nothing wrong with the 

way she speaks or her attitude. That girl also realized that she can’t try and be 

something she isn’t and faking it won’t get her anywhere, and that girl was me.

Mathew Walker

12/16/10

            Ones ability to code switch is key to how one lives. Code switching is something that everybody does whether you’re from the United States or Japan, it doesn’t matter. Now I will explain the larger idea for you but not in detail, basically I am going to throughout the paper give you situations where I and other people have code switched and some why it was bad. In the end I will ask the question is Code switching good or bad and explain to you my position on it.

 I have code switched all my life one time I was on my way home with my friends after playing basketball at a court which was about 20 blocks away from my house and had trees all around. We were talking and here is a little bit of the conversation. “Yo you’re really bad at basketball” I said, “Stop fucking playing wit me you da one who sucks” Cory said, “Haha you funny but if someone is really bad here it has to be Eric” I said, “I wasn’t even in your little convo” Eric said. This is how I talk when I’m around my friends and it will be constantly brought up during this paper.

When I got home my speech changed to where I was not talking to my friends but my parents and the rest of my family. Here is how I talked to them; “Mom I’m home” I yelled, “Ok dinner is almost done” My mother said, “ok,” I said. I walked into the dinning room took of my hoodie and went in the living room My dad started talking to me “Hey son” “Hey dad” I answered, “how’d you do playing basketball today” He asked “Fine” I replied. This is not the whole conversation but most of it. So what I want these parts to explain is that code switching is an everyday thing for me and I sometimes choose when I want to do it but other times it comes without me even realizing it. When I am at school I talk to my friends the same way but when I talk to my teachers I talk to them way differently than I talk to my parents. When I’m talking to teachers I will say “Yes sir”, “No sir”, “Yes mam”, “No mam”. I would talk more respectful although I am already respectful to my parents.

Amy tan shows a perfect example of this in her story “Mother tongue”, She is an example because at home she talks non-educated but when she is out in public she uses big words and tries to pronounce a lot more. Sometimes though code switching can be a problem because when you don’t have control over it you could possibly switch at the wrong time. I remember one time I was down my grandmother’s house and my grandfather said, “Mat what do you think about the cowboys”, “I fucking hate them” I answered. After I said it I realized what I just said and I looked over at my grandfather he looked shocked. Afterwards I apologized and explained that it slipped out but right after that moment I started questioning myself and asking myself if I was loosing grip on the real me, if I was loosing my identity? In Aria a story by Richard Rodriguez, he was talking about how later on he couldn’t speak his native language at home anymore thanks to schooling and to me when he could speak his native language he was code switching because he would talk to his teachers with the English he learned but go home and talk to his family in Spanish. Now this code switching has basically made him take another identity, which I do not want to do.

 What I have been trying to get to is, that Code switching is good but after a while you start to loose track of who you really are. Now the reason loosing your identity is bad is because when you loose track of your identity you can possibly loose track of your culture like in the movie that we watched about the Ladahk people and tourist came in and started to bring modern stuff into their little town where the whole place was family. When they lost their identity they lost their family and they started to be more easily influenced by other culture. So things like crime rate, pollution levels all those bad things started to rise and make their community a very bad place. This is what I don’t want to happen because I love my family and I feel that I should always be with them. Which means people should try to stop code switching and try to stick to one way of talking.

Dialect paper

Everywhere you go the style of how people talk changes. You might not think that you have an accent but you do. Places like New York or Minnesota or Texas, places like them. Even places in the Northeast have very strong Accents. And it changes where you go. In my case I lived in New York for about 4 years of my life. Then I came to Philadelphia. I started 4^th grade here. And I had a small New Yorker accent. I didn’t really know I had one till my friends pointed it out to me one day. This is a larger issue about this. People don’t know they have an accent but they do everywhere in the United States people have accents. And you’re judged by it. In the Deep South. There are different classes of dialect like Upper South Lexicon and the Lower South Lexicon. And they’re separated by who had the most control. This is an example of dialect in different regions. Even in the south there are two types of dialects, which reflects on the world. We should try to bring everything together and not apart. Here is a part of my life when this happened to me

“You Mohamed where you from?”

“New York (Accent)

“My home dawg where you from?

“Really I’m from New York”

“Where is that?”

Teacher

“He’s from New York class”

“Oh I didn’t understand what he was saying”

“Wait what? I don’t have an accent”

Teacher: “You’re from New York you have one”

This is an example of this I didn’t know I had an accent and I was pretty shocked when I found out. I worked really hard to get rid of my accent. If you know me now then you wont even think that I was born in New York. Now in Philadelphia I don’t think I have an accent but people tell me I do. I try so hard to get rid of these “accents” But in reality every just has them. Put in reality I that there are accents everywhere. And that is a the big problem. The fix to this problem is teaching everyone  And I tried to fix this problem, but to no avail. My teachers laughed it my face. Another scence in my life is

Dawg I bet I can beat you in any sport of there.
Nah bro you can’t, not football, nothing
Nigga I can beat yo ass in anything me and my dogs out here gonna rock yo ass
Dude come on me and my boys would destroy you in anything.
Nah dawg you shitten me my boys would shit on you
Do we got a game then?
Yea dawg I gona win.

Children usually do the opposite of what their parents say. They know that it’s wrong, but they do it anyway. For example eating cookies before dinner or playing in the dirt.  Then if something goes wrong like we get dirt on our new clothes or we break something. Our first thought isn’t to tell the truth but to make a story that could cover up what happened.

The black and white ball bounced around like a pen ball.  My eyes followed the moving of the ball like I was in a trance. They kick the ball around the living room without a care in the world laughing and giggling.  I guess they were ignoring their conscious because our mom told them not play soccer in the house many times before. My brother said “Let’s have points,” my sister happily obliged. The bottom of the black wooden entertainment center that held our television was my sisters’ goal.

 In between the blue vase and the little round black table was my brothers’ goal. They started to kick the ball fiercely back and forth. I could see the intensity in their faces, this was no longer a game it was a competition.  My conscious told me this was a bad idea, but I kept it to myself.  Every time they kicked the ball, you heard a loud THAWP!  Game went to ten; each goal was celebrated by a little tease or taunt. It was tied up 9 to 9, they both started to kick the ball with great force. My sister kicked the ball, it hit the blue vase, and they didn’t even stop to see if it broke or if it cracked. At this point I couldn’t just sit on the gray lumpy couch and watch this.  Finally I spoke up and said, “I think you guys should stop.”  By being the youngest no one listened to me , I felt invisible, I guest now I had no choice but to watch.   My sister scored the final goal; she celebrated like she just won the World Cup, she rubbed it the pie of victory in my brothers’ face. 

He got mad and slammed himself into the dark brown rocking chair. The rocking chair hit the mirror with a loud BANG! The crack began to spread like a wildfire. Then the bottom half of the mirror fell to the floor. CRASH!!!! Tat was the sound the mirror made as it fell to the wooden floor.  The impact made the glass break into even more pieces, some were big others were the size of dimes. I knew that my mom would not be happy about this.  The only thing my sister said was “Ooooooo, you in trouble.”  My brother tried to deny that he did it, but the look on his face said other wise. Guilty was written across his forehead.  My brother wasn’t going down alone he said, “It’s your fault too!”  Both of them sweep up glass, they looked at me, I knew they wanted me to help but at the same time knew that they should’ve listened to me. 

 After they were done sweeping my brother and sister tried to come up with a good story to cover it up.  “Say it fell,” my sister said. “It’s crack, she would ask why didn’t the whole thing fall” said my brother.  For hours they tried to come up with a good story, we all sat down stairs and waited for my mom to come home.  Our hearts began to thump louder and louder as each hour passed.  They were growing closer to their judgment.  We heard the screen door, and then we saw the knob turned.