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Rshaw Language Autobiography

Posted by Ryan Shaw in English 2 - Block on

​

Introduction:


The purpose of this project was to create a language autobiography. In this biography, we explored our ideas about how you speak a language and how it affects how you live. In this project, we wrote about our past experiences with language, and how are lives are different because of it. In my autobiography, I discuss the way that language not only affects how you speak, but also, how you think and act. In this project, I had a difficult time relating past experiences with the project.



Ryan Shaw December 22, 2011

Language Autobiography BM

Many kids are born into a family that speaks a foreign language. They learn the language of their parents and, in most cases, also learn the language of the country where they grow up. These children may seem to always have an advantage. We think that these bilinguals have a extreme advantage over others, mostly because they can think in two different languages, and their vocabulary is almost doubled. This can may be untrue however. In some cases, kids who are bilingual, or even trilingual, are affected by how they speak one language, by another language.  

One example is when I was helping my Vietnamese foster cousin, Julia. She was having me edit her science paper and I noticed something, so I asked. “Julia, what are the differences between the sentence structure in Vietnamese and English?”

“Vietnamese has a different way of saying prepositions.” she said. So I re-read her paper, and I realized that the majority of mistakes that occurred were related to prepositional phrases. While this is just an small example, I’ve seen this in my other Vietnamese cousins, and I realized that it even affects the way that they speak. “If it affects the way that they write and speak, then could it affect how they think?” I asked myself. I dropped the idea at the time, but talking about language recently, has brought it back to my attention.

In the example, I realized how language might affect the way that we think, and I asked myself, Could it be that language affects not just how you think, but also, what you think?. I realized that I might be right. A little after I edited my cousin’s paper, I read 1984 by George Orwell. In it, there is a new way of speaking that the oppressive government is slowly forcing on its people, called, ‘newspeak’. A specific quote is from one of the supporters for newspeak in the book, “By 2050—earlier, probably—all real knowledge of Oldspeak will have disappeared. The whole literature of the past will have been destroyed.” Chaucer, Shakespeare,Milton, Byron—they'll exist only in Newspeak versions, not merely changed into something different, but actually contradictory of what they used to be. Even the literature of the Party will change. Even the slogans will change. How could you have a slogan like "freedom is slavery" when the concept of freedom has been abolished? The whole climate of thought will be different. In fact there will be no thought, as we understand it now. Orthodoxy means not thinking—not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.” -1984. This language is designed so that one simply doesn’t have the vocabulary to speak and think things that could be negative to the government. While I don’t think that other languages purposely do this, or that they are this restricted, I do think that certain languages allow you to only think in certain ways.

Another example is for Spanish, and the other Romance languages. Most other languages have the sentence structure of adjective-noun; In Latin languages, it is noun-adjective. This can also mean a different way of storytelling, tones, and even how the speakers talk.

This can be malicious in certain cases. Whenever I get a translation, I am always told that one word, “Is like...” then a meaning. This is because they never have a direct translation. It is hard to convey information this way, and the very foundations of communications is fragmented by this fact. The way that people speak has more to do than just communication however. If you only know how to think by using certain words, then you are virtually forced into thinking or not thinking certain things. This can affect how you act, and how you think.



Citations:


1984 by George Orwell

Language Autobiography

Posted by Seamus Kirby in English 2 - Block on

​Introduction and Reflection:

The purpose of this project was to write a “language autobiography” about how language is a part of ourselves, and connect it to a larger idea. At first when writing this, I wasn’t sure what larger idea I was going to connect to, but as I wrote my scenes and about how my language is a part of me, I started to realize how language is a huge part of people’s identity; how it makes them different from everyone else. As I started to write about this, ideas flowed easily, and the essay seemed to write itself at that point. The part I had the most difficulty with was writing my descriptive scene, and about my experiences with language, but the rest after that was much easier for me.

Essay:

Languages are unique; they change and differ in many ways. When most people hear the word “Language,” they think English, Spanish, French, or other languages. Languages are a lot more than just that, whether it’s a dialect from Texas, or the Xhosa click language. Different languages can be have different words, or sounds, or grammatical syntax’s, but the one thing all languages have in common is that it tries to express something; an idea, or desire. If you ask someone from Alabama what language they spoke, they would probably answer with “Regular English”, and if you asked them what language someone from New York spoke, they would most likely answer with “English with a New York accent.” Everyone thinks that their own version of English is correct, and that everyone else is speaking differently.

Everybody speaks his or her own version of English, even people who live in the same neighborhood. If you look at the world, only some countries speak English. If you look at the English speaking countries, only The United States speaks “American English.” If you look at the US, only New York speaks with a “New York accent.” If you look at New York, only Brooklyn speaks with a “Brooklyn” accent. If you look at the families in Brooklyn, each individual family speaks differently, and everyone in the family speaks differently. This narrowing process can be done for any one person in the World. If you were to listen to everyone in a family speak, you would assume everybody spoke the same way, but the differences are very subtle, such as word used frequently in between pauses, or the speed they talk. All of these differences can separate that person’s individual way of speaking from everybody else’s.

When I think about how I speak, and how my family speaks, I always think that I speak “normally”, and that my words and sentences are “correct”. But what do “normal” and “correct” mean? When it comes to language, there is no such thing as “normal”. If everyone speaks differently, how could you single out one language to be the “normal” language? This also means that everyone is “correct” in the way they speak; you can’t decide that one person’s way of talking is “incorrect”. I then tried to think of how I speak differently from others, and various words and phrases came to mind; things that me and my family said that I doubt any other people used. For example, we sometimes call my brother Colin “Scooterby”, a nickname he got when my family went skiing. It was our first time as skiing, and my 6 year old brother was standing there completely bundled up in coats, snow pants, goggles and a helmet. He was practically unrecognizable in all those clothes. Around the end of the day we had gotten all the way down a hill, and were waiting for my brother. We didn’t see him, and we were worried he might be hurt. “Where is Colin?” my dad asked me, as I had gotten down after him. “I don’t know I replied, I didn’t see him fall though.” My dad was concerned, and said “I hope he’s alright.” We waited a few more minutes, and my dad said “I’m going back up to see if I can find him, wait here.” I said “Wait! I think I see him!”, and sure enough, my brother, came slowly sliding around the bend in the hill, covered in jackets. “Scooterby’s fine!” my dad said, and even though he had never said that word before, I knew exactly what it meant, and we still call my brother “Scooterby” to this day. My dad will also sometimes call me and my brother “Skraelings”, and while this is an actual word that Vikings used to describe the indigenous people of North America, my dad gave it a new meaning that only we know.

There’s a reason everyone’s language is more similar to those they are around a lot. When you are a baby, you learn a language by listening, and repeating what you hear. In a sense, you are copying someone else’s language; but because you are copying from more than one person, your language will be a combination of more than one person’s language. It will be similar to all of them, but different, and therefore unique. It’s not just from your parents that you learn language though, you learn it from friends, teachers, television; you learn it from anything that you can hear the language from. The more time you spend with one specific thing, the more it influences you. Your language is constantly developing and changing, and it will never stop unless you separate all contact with the outside world.

Language is just another thing that makes individuals unique. If you look at the way you speak, the words you use, the way you say them, your language stops feeling “normal”, but it doesn’t seem wrong. You can trace the words you use, and your speech quirks to different groups. I generally speak “calmly” with my words evenly spaced, which is something that my dad does. I sometimes say the word “like” a lot to fill blank spaces in my speech, which is something my friends would do in elementary school. My mom and dad have had the biggest impact on my language, I use similar words to them, have similar speech patterns, and combine the differences in their speech to make my own language.


Citations:

Rickerson, E. M.. The five minute linguist. N.p., 2004. Web. 6 Jan 2012. <http://spinner.cofc.edu/linguist/archives/2005/05/how_do_babies_l.html?referrer=webcluster&>.



Boeree, C. G.. "Language change and evolution." . C. George Boeree, 2003. Web. 6 Jan 2012. <http://webspace.ship.edu/cgboer/langevol.html>.

Video:

Imani Rothwell

Posted by Imani Rothwell in English 2 - Block on

​​Introduction

The idea behind this project is to show a different language we use and how use. To get us in that mind set my teacher Mr.Block has showed us different languages and had us read multiple essay's on different people stories and how different their language are. I will have to say the easy part of this project was the topic and choosing a language that is different. The hard part was the writing and trying to tie all my ideas into one paper. Overall this assignment was fun and I felt it was a great way to think about how we are different with our voices. 


PAPER

​Poetry is a language that I has been passed down in my family. My great great great grandmother Leana wrote poetry, my grandmother Mildred also wrote poetry, and my mom writes poetry. As I got older I started developing a feel for poetry. It wasn’t until the sixth grade when I wrote my first poem. In my middle school we did something called dream flag. We had to write a poem about a dream or desire and paste it to a cloth and hang it like a flag. This  project was the start of me discovering my talent. It was like I entered a whole new world of writing. The whole idea of me being able to use my imagination and write on it made me fall in love with poetry. I went from writing poetry to sharing it with different people. There was this time in eighth grade where my teacher announced that we were going to have a Slam at the end of our poetry unit. This part was new to me so I raised my hand and said “Mr.Crain what is a slam.” he replied and said “ A slam is where a person or group perform a poem and get scored. The person or group with the most points win.” This was something new for me. I never had to share my poem in front of a group of people before let alone be scored on my poem. This made me nervous. I’m a very confident person and speaker but for some strange reason performing a poem brings out a shy side of me that I’m not use to seeing.

When my grade had our Slam I was sweating bullets. The only thing on my mind was do not mess up do not make a fool of yourself. Once my turn came up I did exactly that. I messed up on my poem and left the hard copy of my poem up stairs. So I had to wait and go again, but the second time I nailed it. I was a little nervous but I still did good because I came in second place. Hearing that made me want to keep writing and performing. and my teacher made us have a grade open mic share. I wanted to master this craft and keep on building. High school was the place that helped me with that. My high school have a poetry team that I joined. The poetry team is amazing too. There is diffrent people with diffrent styles that made their poem unique.  Mr. Kay our mentor  and coach was a deceptive. He loved paint pictures in people head and have them really understand the magic behind his pen. Then there was Eryn she had a flow and rhythm to her poems that always got you leaning and keeping up with what she was saying. Next Gina and Mecca they always made sure that their writing had a point across. The way they made that point the will connect it with what people can relate to. Then there was Sina I She had a mixture of them. She had painted pictures, had you want to hear more and connected with the audience. From these different styles I picked up on a lot. I also learned that my style is different. I like to get to the point. I’m good at not over extending a metaphor in a way that’s good but in another way there a something that need to have that extra description to give it more life. I started working on that to perform my first poem in highschool. It was October 15th I was in 9th grade. There was a poetry slam going on at a place called tha Ratonda. I had made the decision to do open mic because I did not want to be scored on my poem.  The stage lights was only on you and you really couldn’t see in the audience. The Mic was set center stage and the host Greg Corbin would announce people names. It was that very moment when He said “Now up to the stage Imani Rothwell reading her poem P.O.W” That was the moment that I felt like dying. I never read in front of strangers. Then my grandmom and dad was in the audience that added extra stress. So I walked slowly towards the stage with a million thought running through my head. My first thought was run Imani your always getting yourself into something. Then My next thought was stupid what made you think you could do this. Next thing I know I was at the stage standing there. Looking for a point I can stare at to comfort myself so I won’t mess up. Then I started my first line  of my poem,

“In my head I have on this orange cotton jump suit

With the words P.O.W written across it

I’m a Prisoner of Words

Waiting for my thought to be said

But instead they are locked away in my lonely head

I should start to speak and stop staying silent

But every time I do my words stay quiet”  I was loud reading this poem and after looking k at the video I was so nervous that I was not even standing near the Mic. After looking back on it I realized I gained more confidence but in order to gain more I will have to start reading performing often. I would perform for  my family

A couple of months went by and I started to change the topics I write on. I would right on drug dealing and the streets. So I put myself in a character that is going through a tuff time and just needs God. I called that poem “Calling God”  This poem I took it straight from the heart. I did not right for some points or for a praise. I wrote it because at that time I was feeling upset and I need my pen a paper to play my therapist. In poetry club I told Mr.Kay that I wanted to share a poem. He said to me “Alright well lets get the group in a circle.” They he told the group we going to start open share with me. Before reading the poem I explained that this is a personal piece and I really do not want feedback then I began my poem,

“Today I called god

But he forwarded my call to voicemail

So I left him a message in prayer

He hasn’t returned my call since

So I sent him a text message

Giving him my prayer

I started off in the name of Jesus Christ

But he never replied

Now I need the address

To talk to my heavenly father

To let out all my sorrows.”

That was the beginning but these next lines are my favorite lines in this poem that I’m proud of are, “I smile ear to ear So my cheeks can choke back my tears and I laugh
So my laughter can smother my crying” and
“I need to speak to my father
But he is not answering.
Does anyone have his number?
Can someone give me an address?
I asked my preacher and he says he has no answers I
looked through the bible
But I see no number
I need to speak to my father
He is the only one that listens”

During the slam I scored an average of 9 out of 10 from 4 different judges.

During these different experiences I wanted to aim bigger and I did just that.

May 5th 2011I shared a poem in front of Erin Gruewell the  teacher of the freedom writers. While she was talking to us she started talking about a student of hers that came to school on the first day on house arrest. This reminded me of my poem I wrote that had to do with a teen who was arrested but I decide to put a spin on it and make them innocent. I thought that I could share this with the group so I got up from my seat and went over to Mr.Kay and asked him was it ok. He said sure and before I knew It I was performing my poem.The name of it was “Have you ever.” Before I started reading it I looked down at my laptop back up to the audience licked my lips and I began

“Have you ever had your innocents taking away from you

Your child hood scrapped up like gum

And you were holding on to the rest that was left  

Pride dangling on your tongue

Because you’re to strong to swallow it

People constantly looking

Becoming objects in your rear view mirror

As they appear closer on your secrets

Stressing Can never get any rest

Because of those flashbacks

Have you ever Locked your secrets in titanium plates

Making sure they never escape
Have you ever felt like your tear duct was glued?
Cause tears wasn’t flowing through
And you just wanted to cry.” The ending lines were,
“Have you ever Wanted a MRI scan for your brain
Just to make sure your Optical lobe was working
Cause you just looked at your life
And said
Dang.
Have you ever had your innocents taking away from you
Your child hood scrapped up like gum
And you were holding on to the rest that was left  
Pride dangling on your tongue
Because you’re to strong to swallow it
Erin Gruwell loved my poem. She loved it so much that she wants to publish it on her website and even wanted to take a picture with me.
From these different experiences have encountered in my life I realized two things. One poetry has been a gift god gave me and Two poetry can save lives. Now when anyone ask me what’s a language I speak that’s different, I tell them poetry because the craft and putting words together to describe something in a new way that people can understand,  My name is Imani Rothwell and at a young age I discovered a new language called Poetry.









Dakota Foster's Language Autobiography

Posted by Dakota Foster in English 2 - Block on

Introduction & Reflection
I never seen myself as a person that could have a language identity. I thought I spoke like everybody else. I thought that people who only spoke more than one language could have a language identity. Kids that translated for their parents or people that had to learn a new language for their public life vs. their home life. I thought I was just any ordinary Philadelphian with an Philadelphian accent. I didn't think I was judged for the way I spoke, but then I took the time to look back at my life. I remember the different schools I went to and the events that happen there. *BING* An idea came to me, I do have a language identity. The fact that I use different slangs that aren't stereotypical with my ethnicity and I found out that was something amazing to write about. Other people were writing about home language vs. public language, when I can talk about a more unique topic. The idea of slang for different races. 

When, I started writing this paper, the words and scenes came with ease. I just remembered everything that had to do with the different slangs. I was amazed by the fact that I could remember everything. After writing and rewriting, I finally got my final product that I am proud. I hope you enjoy it too. (:

Language Autobiography​


I always thought that language was just something that people used to communicate. I didn’t know that there were different accents until I got older and on top of that; I didn’t know there were different kinds of languages. Then I found out there were slang for different races and I wasn't speaking the right slang. I remember when I was little I didn't know the difference between white and black, I thought we were all the same. However then, I went to an all white school, everything changed there.

On one hand, I hung out with all the white kids most of the time because there weren’t a lot of black kids in my class. On the other hand, I would hang out with all of black people when I went home. I started to realize that I wasn't really using the words that the other black kids used. I didn't know all the slang words. For example, 'joe' or 'outtapocket' was used by black people, it meant someone was being stupid or unfair. While on the other hand, 'rad' or 'gnarly' was used by white people, which means awesome. They are many other words like 'jawn' which is a noun for black people. Another one is 'stoked' which means excited about something for white people. I used the words that would be used by white people more often, so people said when I talked I sounded white. It reminds me of my mom, because people would always tell her that she sounds 'white'. I didn't really understand what that meant. Then, her friends started to say that I sound 'white' too. "Cheryl, your daughter sounds just like you. Hahahahaha," my mom's friend Arnita would always say.

        "What are you talking about girl,” my mom asked confused.
        "She sounds like one of those little white girls, just like you."
        "I think she sounds normal, Arnita. Don't be crazy."
        "I just think you need to blacken her up a bit."

I went back and forth from the white slang and Black English, as I got older. My friends always told me that I sounded different. When I was with my black friends, they would say that I sound too white. When, I was with my white friends, they would say that I sound black and they love having me around. I always thought the way I sound was just like anybody else. One day, it finally came to me; I realized that I don’t really use Black English at all. I was texting my friend Fareed and he was just using words that I couldn’t even understand. The next day, he came up and talked to me about it. “Dakota, why do you spell out all the words when you text,” he asked.

        “Why do you shorten so many words? I can barely understand what you are saying!”

“That’s how everybody texts, you are the only oddball. You text like a white person, using ‘dude’, ‘bro’, and spelling out everything.”

        “I don’t think you are right, my white friends say I text like a black person.”
        “Then, you are just an oddball.”

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was either too white or too black. I felt like I was being judged everyday by my friends. What kind of friends judge because of the way someone speaks? I strongly believe that is wrong. I was just black enough to fit in with the black people, but just white enough to fit in with the white kids. While they could still be respected because they had a black friend, I felt like I was being taken advantage of by my white friends. On the other hand, I felt like I wasn't appreciated by my black friends.  I could never just be enough for anybody, expect for my mom. When, my mom was younger, she had the same problem. People would tell her that she sounded like a white person.  I was surprised that I was having the same problem as her. Even though, she was there to tell me what to do, I still couldn’t help but feel horrible. I couldn’t fit in with my friends and they always manage to bring it up.

“That movie was bangin’! We should go see that jawn a second time!”
“Yeah guys, that movie was gnarly,” I squealed.

"What? Dakota. What are you even saying?"

"I said the movie was gnarly. The movie was awesome, duhh."

"Hahaha! Gnarly means awesome? That is some serious white language. How about you just grab a skateboard and ride off with a white boy? Hahahahahahahaha," they said and all laughed in unison.

"Why do you guys have to be so mean?!?!? I am just a person," I yelled violently.

"Dakota, we love you to death. It is just the things you say sometimes are just not the blackest things. We are going to have to blacken you up a bit. Good thing, you go to an all black school."

"Whatever, guys,” I said unhappily.

“You have to speak the slang words like us, Dakota,” my friend insisted.

“I don’t want to use slang, I like sounding intelligent and being proper.

“So you are saying, cause we black and speak slang, that we are stupid?”

“No, I am saying that since you use slang, you sound stupid.”

“Well, all black people use slang.”

“Well, I guess I am not going to use slang.”

I had no idea that a person could be 'blackened'. I thought the fact that I was black meant I was 'blackened'. I started to find out as I got older that it doesn't mean the same thing. People started being rude to me because the words I was using weren't the words that I was stereotypical suppose to say. Then on top of that, they are basically calling themselves stupid because they are using slang. I am not going to be called stupid because of the way I talk when I can control it. I am not going to be a stereotypical black person. Some races think that African Americans speak the language of the poor, which reminds of a quote from the story How to Tame a Wild Tongue by Gloria Anzaldua. “Chicanas who grew up speaking Chicano Spanish have internalized the belief that we speak poor Spanish. It is illegitimate, a bastard language.” Black people may not think they are speaking the language of the poor, but it is a known fact that black people don't get jobs because of the way they speak. I am not going to downgrade myself because I dream big and my dreams are going to become reality. So, my friends are just going to have to deal with the fact that I talk like 'white person', or they were never real friends.

Anzaldua, Gloria. How To Tame A Wild Tongue. 2nd. San Francisco : Aunt Lute Books, 1999. 75-85.
(An
Digital Story..

Language Autobiography Isabela Aznar

Posted by Isabela Supovitz-Aznar in English 2 - Block on

Language Autobiography Introduction:

 This Language Autobiography is about my life growing up and how the things i've experienced have made me more aware of culture and language. Growing up in a bilingual family, and loving writing from a young age always brought me to notice how people spoke, and it what languages they spoke. I also talk about finding my path as a girl growing up in the world with the struggles of being extremely consious of my culture and the way I spoke, and how I over came them with a new perspective.



Language Autobiography Reflection:

 When I started this paper I really didn't have many expiriences to write about, but what I learned as I wrote more and built my paper was that language is all around me. I have had about 10 encounters with people from all over about the way they speak and the way I speak since I started this paper. I took a lot from this project and really enjoyed it, I just wish I had known what I know now when I started!

Isabela Aznar
Copper Stream
December-16-2011
Q2.

I was born bilingual, and I was born a writer. Words spill out of my brain, they drip on my lips, and leak dow my heart. All I’d ever known was that I had the urge to write them down. I guess it’s like the real entrance into my heart, when my parents divorced my only way of coping was writing word after word, page after page, diary after diary, and although I kept my mouth shut, I was constantly speaking. My words were powerful, spiteful, raging, hurt, vulnerable, and the emotions I had were sealed up on the pages of my over emotional, over flowing heart. Poetry poured out and anything overwhelming I ever felt I let float out onto the paper. I wrote songs, diaries, stories, and poems. The words just never stopped coming, that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

The day  I was born into the world, different languages were already bieng poured into my newborn delicate ears. My mother is Mexican, and speaks Spanish as her first language and English and French as her second and third. My father is American, but speaks Spanish too. Growing up in a household with multiple languages made me  very conscious of the way I spoke and the way others spoke as well. I used to resent my background because I thought it was bad to be different from everyone else. I started hating the fact that I was half Mexican when my parents began to separate. I guess the heat of a divorce, the drop in my stomach that told me that I wasn’t like all of my friends with two happy parents, that tragedy had struck me? made me completely resent being “different”. I told everyone I was American, and completely denied that fact that I was Latina at all.  I was  more aware of the connection between culture, judgement and language than the other kids my age. By this I mean that I had a strong sense of knowing what I spoke and how I spoke, and I knew it would define me in the world. In my mind, It already

The first time I really felt proud of myself for speaking two languages, I was at the movies with a bunch of friends for a birthday party. we were watching harry potter, I remember it clearly. Two of my friends whispered across the isle to me that they had to go to the bathroom, and so I decided to tag along. When we got out of the bathroom, we began looking for the theatre in which our movie was, but they all looked the same. We ran in and out of maybe five theatres frantically searching for ours, and being only about twelve years old it was scary. 

Finally we saw people who worked at the theatre, and my friends were on the verge of crying. Emma walked up to the woman and said “excuse me do you know which theatre Harry Potter is playing in??” The woman shrugged and looked confused, but I noticed she looked Latina so I walked up to her and asked her in Spanish. “Compermiso, estamos perdidas. usted sabe cual es el teatro en donde estan enseñando Harry Potter?” I let her know we were lost and that we didn’t know which theatre was the one we had come from, and immediately she understood and smiled, lit up her flashlight and signaled us to follow. She walked us back to our seats in the correct theatre and we were extremely relieved. “Oh my god Isabela, if you hadn’t spoke Spanish...” I remembered my friends praising me for getting us back safely, and that was the first time I truly felt proud of my heritage and language speaking abilities. It’s silly how people try to forget who they are, to become just like everyone else. On that day I promised I'd never resent who I am again.

What makes people embarrassed or afraid of speaking in other languages is being thought of as different, which society advertises as bad. In the cities, it is said that southern accents are bad, because it’s slow and unsophisticated. But in the south, people think that people in the city talk like their angry or in a rush constantly. It’s almost like society tells different cultures all around the United States, and even in other countries that they have to speak a certain way to be seen a certain way, and anything else is bad or a nuisance.
When I finally realized that the way people speak is really something to embrace was on my cruise over winter break. I made a group of lovely friends who will forever be close to me, from all over the world. One night we all went out to dinner together at a restaurant on the boat named “the blue lagoon” and we all talked about the way we spoke. We were a group made up of boys and girls from all over New York, Conneticut, Pennsylvania, Florida, Mexico, Canada, and Massachussets. don’t remember how the conversation came about but we started talking about the slang in where we each lived. In New York they say “You’re buggin’” to say “you’re crazy” or “what are you thinking?” In Pennsylvania we all say “You’re drawlin’” to express the same thing, and in boston they say “You’re wacked”. We all exchanged slang and taught each other different pronunciation of words.
I can honestly say that sitting around a table in the middle of the ocean with people from all around the world made me really appreciate all the different languages we consisted of. We opened up to new cultures, and talked about our languages.
Culture is tied into everything, it’s become linked to religion, belief, location, and language. With language, it’s almost as if people think in their heads “since these people speak this certain language or with this certain accent they must have grown up in a very conservative culture, or a very provacative one, etc.” which will define the way someone might look at someone else. Unfortunately, I think this has become true, but I also think it’s something to embrace, and that people shouldn’t be so afraid of learning and experiencing new things, maybe then they wouldn’t have to differentiate themselves through the way they speak.
I once was laying in bed, dreaming of beautiful things, my head rested on a blue pillow that was being smothered under my hand. I saw colors, and laughter, and then I was in Mexico. I was next to my friend Valeria and we were walking back up from her house to meet Fernando who was picking us up in his car. The sky was a vivid blue as we walked around the asphalt roads of Queretaro, chattering about the heat that pressed into our bodies and foreheads. There were bright palm trees and flowers all around as we walked down past all the big houses of our small town. We passed my grandmothers house and sat down on a curb near by waiting in the heat. The hot rays were coming down thick, but comfortable and not sticky. Fernando rolled up in his jeep and we got in “como estan?” he said, giving each of us a kiss on the cheek “Bien” we both responded smilling. All of the sudden the colors faded out again but I was still driving with Valeria and Fernando.
“Isabela?” I heard a familiar voice and felt my eyes open “Si?” I responded “Are you awake?” I turned and saw Emmi who had slept over at my house, sitting next to me “tuve un sueño tan lindo” I said, letting her know I had had a lovely dream as I came back to reality “what was it?” she asked and I thought back to what words we had just exchanged, confusion washed over me. “Was I just talking to you in Spanish?” I asked my best friend, who had picked up a little bit of Spanish from being around me and my family so much “Yeah hahaha, but I understood you so it’s cool” I put my hand on my forehead and laughed “that is so weird…I just woke up speaking Spanish” I said, and we both laughed again incredulous at our moment that had just occurred.
Emmi is an example of someone who embraces language as well, her parents are both white, but her mother was raised in Italy. She embraces culture, and does her best to adapt to it without resenting the cultures she grew up with. When she comes over and my mom is playing Latin music, or cooking us some sort of Mexican dish, Emmi is always the first of my friends to understand the transition and not feel uncomfortable. I think that this is the point that everyone should reach, when they can be invited into a different language environment, and not be intimidated by it but instead try and grasp a better understanding of it and take things from it.

Language Autobiography

Posted by Anonymous in English 2 - Block on

Introduction and Reflection:
The purpose of this project was to write a “language autobiography” about how language is a part of ourselves, and connect it to a larger idea. At first when writing this, I wasn’t sure what larger idea I was going to connect to, but as I wrote my scenes and about how my language is a part of me, I started to realize how language is a huge part of people’s identity; how it makes them different from everyone else. As I started to write about this, ideas flowed easily, and the essay seemed to write itself at that point. The part I had the most difficulty with was writing my descriptive scene, and about my experiences with language, but the rest after that was much easier for me.

Essay:
Languages are unique; they change and differ in many ways. When most people hear the word “Language,” they think English, Spanish, French, or other languages. Languages are a lot more than just that, whether it’s a dialect from Texas, or the Xhosa click language. Different languages can be have different words, or sounds, or grammatical syntax’s, but the one thing all languages have in common is that it tries to express something; an idea, or desire. If you ask someone from Alabama what language they spoke, they would probably answer with “Regular English”, and if you asked them what language someone from New York spoke, they would most likely answer with “English with a New York accent.” Everyone thinks that their own version of English is correct, and that everyone else is speaking differently.

Everybody speaks his or her own version of English, even people who live in the same neighborhood. If you look at the world, only some countries speak English. If you look at the English speaking countries, only The United States speaks “American English.” If you look at the US, only New York speaks with a “New York accent.” If you look at New York, only Brooklyn speaks with a “Brooklyn” accent. If you look at the families in Brooklyn, each individual family speaks differently, and everyone in the family speaks differently. This narrowing process can be done for any one person in the World. If you were to listen to everyone in a family speak, you would assume everybody spoke the same way, but the differences are very subtle, such as word used frequently in between pauses, or the speed they talk. All of these differences can separate that person’s individual way of speaking from everybody else’s.

When I think about how I speak, and how my family speaks, I always think that I speak “normally”, and that my words and sentences are “correct”. But what do “normal” and “correct” mean? When it comes to language, there is no such thing as “normal”. If everyone speaks differently, how could you single out one language to be the “normal” language? This also means that everyone is “correct” in the way they speak; you can’t decide that one person’s way of talking is “incorrect”. I then tried to think of how I speak differently from others, and various words and phrases came to mind; things that me and my family said that I doubt any other people used. For example, we sometimes call my brother Colin “Scooterby”, a nickname he got when my family went skiing. It was our first time as skiing, and my 6 year old brother was standing there completely bundled up in coats, snow pants, goggles and a helmet. He was practically unrecognizable in all those clothes. Around the end of the day we had gotten all the way down a hill, and were waiting for my brother. We didn’t see him, and we were worried he might be hurt. “Where is Colin?” my dad asked me, as I had gotten down after him. “I don’t know I replied, I didn’t see him fall though.” My dad was concerned, and said “I hope he’s alright.” We waited a few more minutes, and my dad said “I’m going back up to see if I can find him, wait here.” I said “Wait! I think I see him!”, and sure enough, my brother, came slowly sliding around the bend in the hill, covered in jackets. “Scooterby’s fine!” my dad said, and even though he had never said that word before, I knew exactly what it meant, and we still call my brother “Scooterby” to this day. My dad will also sometimes call me and my brother “Skraelings”, and while this is an actual word that Vikings used to describe the indigenous people of North America, my dad gave it a new meaning that only we know.

There’s a reason everyone’s language is more similar to those they are around a lot. When you are a baby, you learn a language by listening, and repeating what you hear. In a sense, you are copying someone else’s language; but because you are copying from more than one person, your language will be a combination of more than one person’s language. It will be similar to all of them, but different, and therefore unique. It’s not just from your parents that you learn language though, you learn it from friends, teachers, television; you learn it from anything that you can hear the language from. The more time you spend with one specific thing, the more it influences you. Your language is constantly developing and changing, and it will never stop unless you separate all contact with the outside world.

Language is just another thing that makes individuals unique. If you look at the way you speak, the words you use, the way you say them, your language stops feeling “normal”, but it doesn’t seem wrong. You can trace the words you use, and your speech quirks to different groups. I generally speak “calmly” with my words evenly spaced, which is something that my dad does. I sometimes say the word “like” a lot to fill blank spaces in my speech, which is something my friends would do in elementary school. My mom and dad have had the biggest impact on my language, I use similar words to them, have similar speech patterns, and combine the differences in their speech to make my own language.

Isabela's Language Auto

Posted by Isabela Supovitz-Aznar in English 2 - Block on

​
Language Autobiography Introduction:

This Language Autobiography is about my life growing up and how the things i've experienced have made me more aware of culture and language. Growing up in a bilingual family, and loving writing from a young age always brought me to notice how people spoke, and it what languages they spoke. I also talk about finding my path as a girl growing up in the world with the struggles of being extremely consious of my culture and the way I spoke, and how I over came them with a new perspective.



Language Autobiography Reflection:

When I started this paper

Isabela Aznar
Copper Stream
December-16-2011
Q2.

I was born bilingual, and I was born a writer. Words spill out of my brain, they drip on my lips, and leak dow my heart. All I’d ever known was that I had the urge to write them down. I guess it’s like the real entrance into my heart, when my parents divorced my only way of coping was writing word after word, page after page, diary after diary, and although I kept my mouth shut, I was constantly speaking. My words were powerful, spiteful, raging, hurt, vulnerable, and the emotions I had were sealed up on the pages of my over emotional, over flowing heart. Poetry poured out and anything overwhelming I ever felt I let float out onto the paper. I wrote songs, diaries, stories, and poems. The words just never stopped coming, that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

The day  I was born into the world, different languages were already bieng poured into my newborn delicate ears. My mother is Mexican, and speaks Spanish as her first language and English and French as her second and third. My father is American, but speaks Spanish too. Growing up in a household with multiple languages made me  very conscious of the way I spoke and the way others spoke as well. I used to resent my background because I thought it was bad to be different from everyone else. I started hating the fact that I was half Mexican when my parents began to separate. I guess the heat of a divorce, the drop in my stomach that told me that I wasn’t like all of my friends with two happy parents, that tragedy had struck me? made me completely resent being “different”. I told everyone I was American, and completely denied that fact that I was Latina at all.  I was  more aware of the connection between culture, judgement and language than the other kids my age. By this I mean that I had a strong sense of knowing what I spoke and how I spoke, and I knew it would define me in the world. In my mind, It already

The first time I really felt proud of myself for speaking two languages, I was at the movies with a bunch of friends for a birthday party. we were watching harry potter, I remember it clearly. Two of my friends whispered across the isle to me that they had to go to the bathroom, and so I decided to tag along. When we got out of the bathroom, we began looking for the theatre in which our movie was, but they all looked the same. We ran in and out of maybe five theatres frantically searching for ours, and being only about twelve years old it was scary. Finally we saw people who worked at the theatre, and my friends were on the verge of crying. Emma walked up to the woman and said “excuse me do you know which theatre Harry Potter is playing in??” The woman shrugged and looked confused, but I noticed she looked Latina so I walked up to her and asked her in Spanish. “Compermiso, estamos perdidas. usted sabe cual es el teatro en donde estan enseñando Harry Potter?” I let her know we were lost and that we didn’t know which theatre was the one we had come from, and immediately she understood and smiled, lit up her flashlight and signaled us to follow. She walked us back to our seats in the correct theatre and we were extremely relieved. “Oh my god Isabela, if you hadn’t spoke Spanish...” I remembered my friends praising me for getting us back safely, and that was the first time I truly felt proud of my heritage and language speaking abilities. It’s silly how people try to forget who they are, to become just like everyone else. On that day I promised I'd never resent who I am again.

What makes people embarrassed or afraid of speaking in other languages is being thought of as different, which society advertises as bad. In the cities, it is said that southern accents are bad, because it’s slow and unsophisticated. But in the south, people think that people in the city talk like their angry or in a rush constantly. It’s almost like society tells different cultures all around the United States, and even in other countries that they have to speak a certain way to be seen a certain way, and anything else is bad or a nuisance.
When I finally realized that the way people speak is really something to embrace was on my cruise over winter break. I made a group of lovely friends who will forever be close to me, from all over the world. One night we all went out to dinner together at a restaurant on the boat named “the blue lagoon” and we all talked about the way we spoke. We were a group made up of boys and girls from all over New York, Conneticut, Pennsylvania, Florida, Mexico, Canada, and Massachussets. don’t remember how the conversation came about but we started talking about the slang in where we each lived. In New York they say “You’re buggin’” to say “you’re crazy” or “what are you thinking?” In Pennsylvania we all say “You’re drawlin’” to express the same thing, and in boston they say “You’re wacked”. We all exchanged slang and taught each other different pronunciation of words. I can honestly say that sitting around a table in the middle of the ocean with people from all around the world made me really appreciate all the different languages we consisted of. We opened up to new cultures, and talked about our languages.
Culture is tied into everything, it’s become linked to religion, belief, location, and language. With language, it’s almost as if people think in their heads “since these people speak this certain language or with this certain accent they must have grown up in a very conservative culture, or a very provacative one, etc.” which will define the way someone might look at someone else. Unfortunately, I think this has become true, but I also think it’s something to embrace, and that people shouldn’t be so afraid of learning and experiencing new things, maybe then they wouldn’t have to differentiate themselves through the way they speak.
I once was laying in bed, dreaming of beautiful things, my head rested on a blue pillow that was being smothered under my hand. I saw colors, and laughter, and then I was in Mexico. I was next to my friend Valeria and we were walking back up from her house to meet Fernando who was picking us up in his car. The sky was a vivid blue as we walked around the asphalt roads of Queretaro, chattering about the heat that pressed into our bodies and foreheads. There were bright palm trees and flowers all around as we walked down past all the big houses of our small town. We passed my grandmothers house and sat down on a curb near by waiting in the heat. The hot rays were coming down thick, but comfortable and not sticky. Fernando rolled up in his jeep and we got in “como estan?” he said, giving each of us a kiss on the cheek “Bien” we both responded smilling. All of the sudden the colors faded out again but I was still driving with Valeria and Fernando. “Isabela?” I heard a familiar voice and felt my eyes open “Si?” I responded “Are you awake?” I turned and saw Emmi who had slept over at my house, sitting next to me “tuve un sueño tan lindo” I said, letting her know I had had a lovely dream as I came back to reality “what was it?” she asked and I thought back to what words we had just exchanged, confusion washed over me. “Was I just talking to you in Spanish?” I asked my best friend, who had picked up a little bit of Spanish from being around me and my family so much “Yeah hahaha, but I understood you so it’s cool” I put my hand on my forehead and laughed “that is so weird…I just woke up speaking Spanish” I said, and we both laughed again incredulous at our moment that had just occurred.
Emmi is an example of someone who embraces language as well, her parents are both white, but her mother was raised in Italy. She embraces culture, and does her best to adapt to it without resenting the cultures she grew up with. When she comes over and my mom is playing Latin music, or cooking us some sort of Mexican dish, Emmi is always the first of my friends to understand the transition and not feel uncomfortable. I think that this is the point that everyone should reach, when they can be invited into a different language environment, and not be intimidated by it but instead try and grasp a better understanding of it and take things from it.

Dalena Bui Language Autobiography

Posted by Dalena Bui in English 2 - Block on

Introduction & Reflection

I have really never thought about language identity. All of thought of myself was a American person and Vietnamese. This paper helped me realized how language is not only a part of you but how you can communicate in many different ways with the world. Language is a used in so many ways people don't even know. 

When I first started this paper i didn't really know what to write. The idea" Language Identity really confused me because I have never even thought about it. After I got my idea down the paper came with ease because my life was filled with it. The strong parts of my paper is where I have a conversation with my dad because that scene is something I never forgot. It truly shows emotions of how language is so universal. The hardest for me was just getting all my ideas on a paper and some scenes lack depth but overall I am proud of my paper. I learned that Language is done in so many different ways. Language is always in our lives but we never noticed it.


Language Autobiography


         

         When I was young there were moments in my life where I was ashamed of being Vietnamese. I didn’t want to embrace being Asian because I didn’t felt like I would fit in with the rest of my classmates at that time or in society. It all started when I was in kindergarten.  It was my first day of school. I remembered as I walk through those doors  for the first time. I walked in and all these strange faces looked at me as I went in and took my seat. I was the only Asian in that classroom and I felt very isolated. I made a friend that day but I couldn’t help comparing myself to her because she was white, tall, blue eyes and blond hair, the exact opposite of me. I wondered why I couldn’t look like her blond hair and blue eyes and all. That’s not the only thing that set us apart. She spoke English everywhere she went and I spoke broken Vietnamese and English. That only made me feels even more isolated.


      There was a back to school night and the parents were invited to go into the class. All around me every parent was speaking English while my dad tried to speak in his broken English but it didn’t fool anyone that he clearly only could speak Vietnamese. I felt embarrassed while other parents would try to hold a conversation with him but in the end withering away or looking in the crowd for someone better to.Someone that they could actually hold a conversation with. I wanted to trade my race with anyone in that room forever. But most of all I wanted to trade my dad. I blamed my dad for making me feel the way I felt because he just had to go and be Asian. He didn’t have to face the kids I had to face everyday feeling isolated and alone. He didn’t have to hear everyone whisper comments about his appearance “ Oh look how short she is” or “ Why does she talk differently”? So many comments everyday and I couldn’t escape them because they were all classmates. I didn’t even feel comfortable in my own skin. My image about my self-appearance only got worst and worst as I grew up. I start comparing myself to everyone thinking why I couldn’t look like them or talk in just English or why couldn’t my parents converse and talk to parents without their Vietnamese slipping out. That was one of the low points in my life.

           One day my dad and I were driving in the car I was thinking about school at that time. Every painful memory came rushing back and then I turned to my dad and yelled at him “ Cha Tôi ghét là người Việt Nam!”. My dad looked shocked and asked me “lý do tại sao bạn la hét tất cả các của một bất ngờ?làm những gì có nghĩa là bạn ghét là Việt?” All the anger I ever felt and all those years built up at me as I yelled at him and blamed him for my pain” Tôi sẽ không bao giờ phù hợp với các trẻ em Mỹ. Bạn không biết bao nhiêu điều đau khổ nghe commenrs về được châu Á! Bạn không phải đi học với trẻ em nhận xét về bạn mỗi bước di chuyển.Bạn không cần phải được đánh giá hàng ngàycủa cuộc sống của bạn!”. My dad just looked at me with a sad expression and just kept driving at looked ahead. I felt horrible the whole way home because my dad didn’t deserve me yelling at him. I knew my dad was shocked and his feelings were hurt just by the look on his face. I will never forget the painful shocked look on his face. At home I said to my dad “cha tôi xin lỗi vì la hét tại bạn không có lý do”. My dad said to me “Tôi không quan tâm mà bạn hét vào mặt tôi, nhưng có bạn cảm thấy rằng tất cảnhững năm này?Bạn có xấu hổ là người Việt Nam. I couldn’t look at him in the eyes after he asked me if I was really ashamed of being Vietnamese and they way it sounded coming out his mouth sounded horrible. It made me question why was I so ashamed of being Vietnamese? Why didn’t I like my race? Did I hate myself? All these questions went through my mind as I questioned myself. At that moment I was truly ashamed to even look at myself. My dad just looked at me as tears were collecting in my eyes. I looked at my dad” Cha tôi khủng khiếp thậm chí nghĩ rằng không? Cha có thể thậm chí khôngnhìn vào bản thân mình ngay bây giờ.Tôi khủng khiếp. My dad just looked at me and said that he couldn’t make me feel anymore comfortable in my skin if he pushes me to accept me being Vietnamese. I can only make myself accept for whom I am.

           Overtime I learned to be comfortable in my skin and being Vietnamese. But one day eventually I will be comfortable in my own skin. Language can be used in different ways. People communicate in so many Languages. Today the more Languages you know the better. But is it always better? You need to find the balance to use the languages you know or it can become a disaster when you are trying to use them. The short stories that I read all have the same message. All of them had a hard time using English in their every lives. People criticize them for not using English. They all eventually in the end learn to find the balance between their home language and the language they use in public.  Languages can be your best friend but if you can’t find the balance between both then it can also become your worst enemy.

Language is so universal. People can talk to each other through so many forms of language. Language can be spoken but people can also use movements to communicate. People from all over the world speak different languages but weirdly we all find ways to communicate with each other. Communication through language is done in so many ways. We are all different hair eyes ,mouth ,lips but we all have one thing in common. We all want to know so much more then what we already have. We want to understand all the languages used all around the world. Language is Universal. For me Languages has always been in my life .English Outside and Vietnamese from my parents. I am happy to have both. They let me communicate with people in so many ways

Dakota Foster's Language AutoBio

Posted by Anonymous in English 2 - Block on

Introduction & Reflection
I never seen myself as a person that could have a language identity. I thought I spoke like everybody else. I thought that people who only spoke more than one language could have a language identity. Kids that translated for their parents or people that had to learn a new language for their public life vs. their home life. I thought I was just any ordinary Philadelphian with an Philadelphian accent. I didn't think I was judged for the way I spoke, but then I took the time to look back at my life. I remember the different schools I went to and the events that happen there. *BING* An idea came to me, I do have a language identity. The fact that I use different slangs that aren't stereotypical with my ethnicity and I found out that was something amazing to write about. Other people were writing about home language vs. public language, when I can talk about a more unique topic. The idea of slang for different races. 

When, I started writing this paper, the words and scenes came with ease. I just remembered everything that had to do with the different slangs. I was amazed by the fact that I could remember everything. After writing and rewriting, I finally got my final product that I am proud. I hope you enjoy it too. (:

Language Autobiography​


I always thought that language was just something that people used to communicate. I didn’t know that there were different accents until I got older and on top of that; I didn’t know there were different kinds of languages. Then I found out there were slang for different races and I wasn't speaking the right slang. I remember when I was little I didn't know the difference between white and black, I thought we were all the same. However then, I went to an all white school, everything changed there.

On one hand, I hung out with all the white kids most of the time because there weren’t a lot of black kids in my class. On the other hand, I would hang out with all of black people when I went home. I started to realize that I wasn't really using the words that the other black kids used. I didn't know all the slang words. For example, 'joe' or 'outtapocket' was used by black people, it meant someone was being stupid or unfair. While on the other hand, 'rad' or 'gnarly' was used by white people, which means awesome. They are many other words like 'jawn' which is a noun for black people. Another one is 'stoked' which means excited about something for white people. I used the words that would be used by white people more often, so people said when I talked I sounded white. It reminds me of my mom, because people would always tell her that she sounds 'white'. I didn't really understand what that meant. Then, her friends started to say that I sound 'white' too. "Cheryl, your daughter sounds just like you. Hahahahaha," my mom's friend Arnita would always say.

        "What are you talking about girl,” my mom asked confused.
        "She sounds like one of those little white girls, just like you."
        "I think she sounds normal, Arnita. Don't be crazy."
        "I just think you need to blacken her up a bit."

I went back and forth from the white slang and Black English, as I got older. My friends always told me that I sounded different. When I was with my black friends, they would say that I sound too white. When, I was with my white friends, they would say that I sound black and they love having me around. I always thought the way I sound was just like anybody else. One day, it finally came to me; I realized that I don’t really use Black English at all. I was texting my friend Fareed and he was just using words that I couldn’t even understand. The next day, he came up and talked to me about it. “Dakota, why do you spell out all the words when you text,” he asked.

        “Why do you shorten so many words? I can barely understand what you are saying!”

“That’s how everybody texts, you are the only oddball. You text like a white person, using ‘dude’, ‘bro’, and spelling out everything.”

        “I don’t think you are right, my white friends say I text like a black person.”
        “Then, you are just an oddball.”

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was either too white or too black. I felt like I was being judged everyday by my friends. What kind of friends judge because of the way someone speaks? I strongly believe that is wrong. I was just black enough to fit in with the black people, but just white enough to fit in with the white kids. While they could still be respected because they had a black friend, I felt like I was being taken advantage of by my white friends. On the other hand, I felt like I wasn't appreciated by my black friends.  I could never just be enough for anybody, expect for my mom. When, my mom was younger, she had the same problem. People would tell her that she sounded like a white person.  I was surprised that I was having the same problem as her. Even though, she was there to tell me what to do, I still couldn’t help but feel horrible. I couldn’t fit in with my friends and they always manage to bring it up.

“That movie was bangin’! We should go see that jawn a second time!”
“Yeah guys, that movie was gnarly,” I squealed.

"What? Dakota. What are you even saying?"

"I said the movie was gnarly. The movie was awesome, duhh."

"Hahaha! Gnarly means awesome? That is some serious white language. How about you just grab a skateboard and ride off with a white boy? Hahahahahahahaha," they said and all laughed in unison.

"Why do you guys have to be so mean?!?!? I am just a person," I yelled violently.

"Dakota, we love you to death. It is just the things you say sometimes are just not the blackest things. We are going to have to blacken you up a bit. Good thing, you go to an all black school."

"Whatever, guys,” I said unhappily.

“You have to speak the slang words like us, Dakota,” my friend insisted.

“I don’t want to use slang, I like sounding intelligent and being proper.

“So you are saying, cause we black and speak slang, that we are stupid?”

“No, I am saying that since you use slang, you sound stupid.”

“Well, all black people use slang.”

“Well, I guess I am not going to use slang.”

I had no idea that a person could be 'blackened'. I thought the fact that I was black meant I was 'blackened'. I started to find out as I got older that it doesn't mean the same thing. People started being rude to me because the words I was using weren't the words that I was stereotypical suppose to say. Then on top of that, they are basically calling themselves stupid because they are using slang. I am not going to be called stupid because of the way I talk when I can control it. I am not going to be a stereotypical black person. Some races think that African Americans speak the language of the poor, which reminds of a quote from the story How to Tame a Wild Tongue by Gloria Anzaldua. “Chicanas who grew up speaking Chicano Spanish have internalized the belief that we speak poor Spanish. It is illegitimate, a bastard language.” Black people may not think they are speaking the language of the poor, but it is a known fact that black people don't get jobs because of the way they speak. I am not going to downgrade myself because I dream big and my dreams are going to become reality. So, my friends are just going to have to deal with the fact that I talk like 'white person', or they were never real friends.


Digital Story..

COMING SOON (:

Language Autobiography Teige Dougherty

Posted by Teige Dougherty in English 2 - Block on

Introduction:

The purpose of the essay was to explain my idea of what language is. I say in my essay that I think that language shows someone’s state of being. It has no representation of your IQ or of your mental capacity. One thing that was very difficult, was writing about my language. It is hard to explain to people who cannot understand it, so everybody.



Paper:

My family is a regular pot-luck of languages, everyone brings something new to the table. Everybody, knows something different. For instance, my Mom knows french, my Dad knows Spanish and Gaelic. My brothers know German, and my one brother knows french too. It’s really confusing when people speak all of their languages at the same time. I am the only one who can understand all of the languages. I can’t speak them back, but I act as an interpreter. I translate the other languages into English, for the other family members that can’t speak the language. 


My parents rely on me to translate what the other parts of the family are saying. Even my brothers’ English is slurred and I am one of the only people who can understand him. I have had a lot of experience with people who cannot speak English correctly. This is because my brother suffers from a disease which causes you to have less control over your muscles. Actions like speaking are usually very slurred and most people can’t understand him. My brother and I are the only ones who can understand him all the time. It is very often that my mother with ask me to translate what he said.


Another way that I have had experience with people who can’t fully speak English, is with my cello teacher. I met him when I was 5 years old. When you are 5, you don't talk much anyway. Language is not your first priority. I was scared. I was starting a new instrument, which for me meant a new language and it meant a new teacher. 

I walked into the room awkwardly with my new cello. It was a little bit bigger than my 3 foot tall body. I see my new teacher for the first time and we talked very quickly.


He said, "Hello, I named Dr. Yu. Your named?

I was confused by the question. Was he asking what I wanted to be called?

I replied hesitantly,"Teige?"

He replied “Are you sure? Confused you sound like.”

I didn’t know what to do. I then looked up at my dad. He laughed and said “I don’t think Teige can understand you”

Dr. Yu replied to this by saying “I sorry, I no help it, just way I speak.”


I have always remembered this moment, specifically when he said that he couldn’t help it, and that is just the way he speaks. That it wasn’t his fault that he spoke like that. For some reason, before he had said this, I just thought that everybody talked the same way and that some people would put on a different voice in order to make a joke, or to seem funny. It had never occurred to me that his voice was a product of his surroundings.

When I was younger, I didn’t understand English as a language. I never could understand the tones of a normal everyday voice. I always had this problem, because I have a disease. This disease is called synesthesia. Its where I see colors and taste different things depending on what I hear. This caused me to create my own language. Basically it just consisted of my favorite sounds that I could make, I also used tastes as words. Colors or tastes didn’t mean words like we use in English, but rather thoughts or ideas. Many people who have this disease, wind up like this too. An example of this, is like the taste of metal, this to me means that something is out of place or is going wrong. What this meant for a kid like me was a way of expressing myself that English couldn’t do for me. I am told that a normal person thinks in words or phrases, I however retained the language that I had when I was younger and still use that to think. It is kind of like a short hand that no one else in the world can understand.

 I used to take pride in it, that I was one in 200,000 that could think like this or even see the colors that I see. The only big problem in this language is that no one else can understand it. Try as I might I could never seem to teach the language to anyone else. Around the age of 5, I gave up trying to teach it to anyone. I figured that they just weren’t going to get it, and that it must be as difficult for them as English is to me. This has always affect the way I think and the way I do math. 

That is why I have always had the belief that language is more than just a way of communicating, but rather a way of thinking. Some times your language is a representative of your education, but the way I see it most of the time, language is more a representative of your state of being.


Reflection:

I enjoyed talking about current issues that I face, and to tune people into my thoughts on the subject. The issues that I talked about are important to my family and I. Most of my family believes the same thing as me on this issue. 

ENG2-008

Term
2011-12

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