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False Linguistic Adaptation

Posted by Rafi Hares in English 2 - Pahomov - E on Monday, November 4, 2013 at 3:24 pm

While attending Charles Drew Elementary School for three full years, I don’t believe I made any good friends. After my time at Drew I had to leave to attend a better public school called Penn Alexander. It was a considerable upgrade from my old school, but at the same time it was even more daunting. I was notorious for having a stuttering problem taking what seemed like days to pronounce the easiest of words, not only to add to that but I had seemed to adopt a sort of “ghetto” accent as black people from west Philly are known for having. This made changing from Drew school to PAS very difficult because it was a mix of several races meaning that my speech didn’t fit in anywhere in particular.

Interracial mingling was something that I had never seen before. I’d only ever known black people and had only seen white people on rare occasions with my mother. The idea of a white kid being able to talk to a black one was like cats and dogs hugging it out. People could have spoken anything from the “ghetto” english I had heard to the standard white one that I had only just recently heard of. Transitioning into this new mixed environment was a hard experience even then I didn’t feel adjusted until 9th grade. Transitioning from PAS to SLA was very smooth because the atmosphere between the two was very similar so I felt right at home after years of adjusting to PAS.

My dad always was a forgetful person, so it wasn’t surprised when he told me to walk down to the local grocery store to pick up some food supplies.

“Get up and go! I don’t have time for this I need to finish cooking!” said my dad angrily.

“Ugh, alright fine I’ll go just stop bothering me,” I retorted.

I slapped on whatever clothes I just took out of the wash and went outside. Now stepping outside I noticed a few things. The first one was that it dark outside and it seemed like it was about to rain soon. Secondly I had seen some people standing down the street in the direction I was going of whom I had never seen before. Being oblivious to how things looked I just kept walking staring at my feet.

“Hey young bull slow down let me talk to you,” said the second biggest one of the group.

I didn’t respond and simply kept walking. The guy looked at least 17-18 and I didn’t want to deal with him so I ignored him. The guy got distracted by one of his friends and didn’t realize I had walked off.

“Hey young bull! Hey young bull!” He kept calling as if he expected me to walk back.

I reached the grocery store which was about a block away from me house. One of the cashiers who worked at the grocery store said that the groups of guys were calling me.

“I’ve never seen those guys in my life,” I said.

“Ignore them; they are trying to mess with you,” he said.

I bought my stuff at the store and continued on my way and then went to go talk to the security officer about the people. He casually shrugged off what I had said and told me that they are just a bunch of punks messing with me. Feeling I could do nothing else I walked back to my house.

At first I hadn’t seen anyone but as I neared closer my house I saw the group of guys walk about of a driveway right near my house. They immediately circled around me; two of them frisked my pockets and took the money I had left over and the groceries. Another one punched me in the jaw and then they all counted up the money they had taken and checked the groceries I had. I quickly sprinted to my house and rung the bell as fast as possible. They saw what I was doing, dropped the groceries, and immediately ran.

The whole event changed how I view black people and made me want to disassociate myself with them while at the same time allowing myself to be able to act freely around them. I tried to act more like other black people to try and fit in and give myself some peace. It got to the point where some of my friends wanted to disassociate themselves from because they didn’t like how I was acting.

“Hey Rafi did you catch the fight between Velasquez and Lesnar” my friend said.

“Naw man shit I don’t keep up with crap like that these days, I’m busy with my other bro” I said back.

I tried so hard to emulate an accent and dialect that wasn’t really mine my friends saw right through it and didn’t want anything to do with me after that. I ended up making things worse for myself. I made an environment I felt was hostile because of who I was even more hostile towards myself as I lost friends.

Similarly, in the Comedy Central show Key and Peele, there is a skit where the two black males purposely tried to seem tougher as to assert a feel of dominance and masculinity. However when they walk away from each other the tone completely changes and one of the Men says to their friend over the phone “Oh my gosh Christian I just totally almost got mugged just now!” The two men were completely harmless to one another but because they didn’t know that about one another they automatically try to toughen up to seem more dominant as to avoid any unwanted confrontation.

I effectively judged an entire race of people because of the handiwork of a few individuals. It made me into a very judgmental person who was very paranoid. It was only after many months that I realized that my impressions were all wrong. I learned that code switching was not solving any of my problems as it only further distorted what I actually wanted to be which was a person who could speak in whatever way, shape, or form that they wanted.

The key to feeling safe and comfortable in society was for me to find middle ground where I could act the same around everybody. Only after letting go of my fear and trying to cope with my fear of getting mugged was I able to stop trying to act so intimidating when it really was not my suit. I stopped trying to talk like other stereotypical black people after being mugged because I realized it was only escalating the situation as shown in the Key and Peele skit and that I should only speak they way I wanted to.


Citations:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzprLDmdRlc (Key and Peele Skit)


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Black English

Posted by Angelo Casasanto in English 2 - Pahomov - E on Monday, November 4, 2013 at 8:40 am

​

All across America there are African-American people who speak an english that is similar to our but not exactly the same. It started in the darkest times of this country. The times of slavery. When White Americans enslaved thousands of African-Americans and forcefully brought them to America. With no knowledge of english African-Americans adapted and tried their best to communicate. White Americans forced African-Americans to create their own version of english during the times of slavery.

In James Baldwin’s essay, “If Black English Isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me. What Is?”, in the sixth paragraph he begins to explain the origins of Black English and how it may have came to be, “..the slaves began the formation of the black church, and it is within this unprecedented tabernacle that is Black English began to be formed...the adaption of a foreign tongue.” I personally believe that Baldwin’s correct. As an American I have pride in the country and the people in it, but we did something horrid. We brought Africans to the states as slaves. Then when they began to try and communicate with their own version of our language we discriminated against them harshly, and told them they had to speak our English. It’s a hard topic to fathom but it’s all true.

Also in Baldwin’s paper in the second paragraph where he starts to compare and contrast other systems that are involved through languages he argues, “A frenchman living in Paris speaks a subtly and crucially different language from that of the man living in Marseilles, neither sounds much like the man living in Quebec, Guadeloupe, Martinique, or Senegal although the “common” language of all these areas is French.” Now Baldwin raises a great point here. He’s comparing the French language system to the English one. He says a man in Paris sounds different than a person in Marseilles. That would be like saying a man from Brooklyn sounds different than a person in Mississippi. Which is undoubtedly true. He then also goes on about other French speaking countries in which most french natives couldn’t even understand the language they’re speaking there. It all winds back to colonization. When the french took over these countries they had forced the people living there to learn french. So the natives made it their own. Just like how African-Americans made english their own, and frankly I don’t blame them one bit.

Since the times of slavery are over and white people and black people are integrated we have learned to live alongside each other in peace. The only difference between us now besides our skin color is the variation of english that we speak. African American Vernacular English is the proper name for it, but it actually is a separate language from english created by african-americans. A great example is pulled from a Kanye West song called “Otis”, “They ain't see me cause I pull up in my other Benz. Last week I was in my other other Benz, throw your diamonds up cause we in this bitch another 'gain.” The reason I’m using a Kanye West lyric is to show how this “dialect” spreads around to the younger generation. If the younger generation speaks in this dialect then it will only become more popular. In fact even white people have begun to take on a form of this speech from being around African Americans so much. Nothing wrong with that, it’s just that we as a country need to recognize that we actually are creating a new English.  In all honesty I don’t like this type of music at all, but if slavery is the reason that most African Americans speak in this dialect then I hope they continue to.

Mostly all African-Americans have spoken or will be speaking African American Vernacular English in the future, this is because of the recent migrations of African Americans from the southern states toward the northern states. Therefore, the African American men and women who had slaves as their ancestors and those who were handed down the dialect from them are spreading out. With spreading out comes passing on and what’s happening is, the farther they spread the more popular this dialect becomes. More and more people will continue to be exposed to African American Vernacular English. All of this had started when we sailed to Africa and brought back slaves from West, Central, and even Southern Africa. So all of these Africans shoved on a boat together each of them speaking different languages had no clue on how to communicate. After a while when they got to the states they began to be exposed to English and they tried to learn it the best they could, all while slave working. And thus African American Vernacular English was born.


Works Cited


Baldwin, James. "If Black English isn't a language, Then Tell Me, What Is?" (Essay)

West, Kanye. "Otis" (Song)


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Ender's Game Linguistics

Posted by Morgan Caswell in English 2 - Pahomov - E on Monday, November 4, 2013 at 7:40 am

Ender Wiggin is the average American six year old. Well, not really, but he’s an American, fictional six year old. Ender Wiggin in the main protagonist in Orson Scott Card’s 1983 science fiction novel Ender’s Game (and all of all the other books, Speaker For The Dead, Xenocide, Children of the Mind, Ender’s Shadow, Shadow of Hegemon, Shadow Puppets, First Meetings, Shadow Of The Giant, A War of Gifts, Ender in Exile, Shadows in Flight, Earth Unaware, Earth Afire, and Shadow Alive).  He’s the third, he has an older brother Peter and an older sister Valentine. They live in a world where English in the “international standard” and every kid in the world is learning it. Except French kids, France kept tradition and gives kids 4 years to learn French before starting with the international standard. Earth is faced with a Bugger (or Formic, dependent on whether or not you intend to see the movie or read the wiki page) crisis, where they are being invaded with an alien species. Young Ender is sent to an international military school, where he is with kids from all over the world being trained to lead the International Fleet, better know as the I.F. While all of the boys speak English, they speak variants of English. The dialect and accent that the kids speak affects their hierarchy and education levels.

There is this boy in Ender’s launch group, named Bernard, from France. The story is narrated from a third person perspective, but from Ender’s thoughts, we see that he thinks that Bernard has a very exoctic, rare sounding accent.  Ender’s original perception of Bernard is that he is snobby and arrogant. He doesn’t have this idea about the other boys in his crew, but because Bernard is French, then Ender thinks that he’s arrogant. They use language and other things to turn the students against each other. The officers clearly establish who is from France and they single out Ender on the ride to Battle School. Colonel Graff thinks that isolation maintains creativity, and he clearly doesn’t believe in the core value of collaboration.

Then in the game room, Ender meets kids who are older than he is, but have this sort of uneducated, slow sounding English. Some of them sound slightly southern. but mostly the spoke with an improper sense of grammar. None of them were commanders or platoon leaders, all of them were just soldiers. All of the boys who lead in the top armies, such as Dragon or Rabbit, were all American, British, Australian, or French. They all spoke some sort of almost unaccented English.

Not only are all of the student commanders and platoon leaders from wealthier, well educated countries, the same also applies to all the leaders and officers from the I.F. that we see in the book. Colonel Graff, who is in charge of Ender’s training whilst he’s at Battle School is American, and always conducts himself with this great sense of propriety in his English. When Ender is at Command School, he has a teacher by the name of Mazer Rackham. He defeated the Buggers in the first invasion and is a great commander. Mazer’s English is average, he makes typical mistakes while speaking, but all in all, speaks standard, unaccented English. This is fairly typical of people who are high up in the I.F.

While Ender is at battle school, his two siblings at home decide they want to take over the web and start writing political commentary. Because Peter is only 12, and Valentine is only 10 at the time that they do this, the decide to take up the pseudonyms of  Demonthes and Locke. Peter plays Locke, who is a person who encourages communication between nations regarding the Warsaw Pact. This is strange because Peter is not at all like that in real life; Peter would skin squirrels alive and watch them suffer and die. Valentine is quiet and sensitive in real life, she baked cakes on Ender’s birthday even though he was at Battle School and no one baked anymore. She always stuck up for Ender when Peter would bully him. Valentine’s online persona, however, stirs up tension between governments and doesn’t encourage any communication between anyone. The online personas of the kids causes great political tension and they are both employed to be working full time writing columns for websites on the net. However, in order for them to have done so well, they had to present the front of a well-educated, wealthy men who are very politically inclined. Peter couldn’t present himself as a ruthless 12 year old boy who was jealous of a third who got to go to Battle School. Valentine couldn’t present herself as a 10 year old girl who was sensitive and fearful for her brother’s psychological and physical well being. Valentine had to present herself as a man, first and foremost, for anyone to take her seriously. Secondly, she had to not be kind-hearted or sensitive at all. She had to use such harsh language to not show herself and to make her opinion known and popular. Whereas, Peter on the other hand, had to phrase his thoughts in such as way that made him look very deep and thoughtful, while encouraging communications and world peace. Peter’s character had to be careful to not use strong or harsh language in order to get his thoughts and opinions well known.

As children running this column, it became so well known that they had to compare and contrast the views of Demonthes and Locke for school. Valentine almost got herself in trouble, writing such an eloquent analysis on comparing the views of the two, that the school wanted to publish it on the school website. The problem with that though, was that the writing style between Demonthes and Valentine was almost identical. After that, she quickly learned that she not only had to code switch while talking, but she almost had to have two separate writing styles and vocabularies. Peter was better at not revealing his character, because he had always code switched between talking to Ender and Valentine and talking to adults. Peter had created this facade that caused adults to see him as a sweet, intelligent, sensitive boy instead of the ruthless killer he was in his younger days.

Back at Battle School, Ender is in Salamander Army under the command of Bonzo Madrid, from Spain. Ender’s first mistake in the army was to pronounce the commander’s name wrong and to not speak to the commander properly. Despite Ender eventually being the most valuable soldier in the army, Bonzo has a bad impression of him because he has a Spanish name and Ender isn’t familiar with Spanish names. Although English is the international standard, most countries kept ethnic names with influences of past languages.

All in all, language is very powerful. As we see from Ender’s Game, language affects the boys’ ranks and how they were seen by other boys. Language also gave them a sense of individuality, and we always knew who was talking even when it was clearly spelled out. We see language, while key to communication, affects the hierarchy of society.












Works Cited

Card, Orson Scott. “Ender’s Game”



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Perceptions of Individuality and Others

Posted by Hannah Nicoletti in English 2 - Pahomov - E on Monday, November 4, 2013 at 6:38 am

Does an individuals accent or regional speech affect how they are perceived? Around the world different accents and dialects have developed through the years. Right along with the dialect and accent development came the perception development. In the movie American Tongues, many people from different places in the United States speak about how they view other people and how other people view them, based on accents. The individuals, in the movie, who are interviewed also mention how accents or dialect affected certain decisions that they made. Language gives people a sense of individuality, but assumptions can affect perceptions.

At the beginning of the movie, the narrator is speaking about how people hearing the accents from remote mountain areas or islands of the East Coast region, view them. He also put a label on the people viewing the speech of certain places in the United States, when he said, “... may sound old fashioned to outsiders.” By saying the word, “may,” it shows that he is aware that assumptions are being made, but he does not have proof to back up what he is saying. The listener, to the video, is given the opportunity to hear some examples of the speech, but he never identifies what makes it be perceived as “old fashioned.” When he says “old fashioned,” he showing how the viewers are perceiving those with his accent. He uses that example to show one of the many categories people with different accents get placed in. The word ‘outsiders,’ is used to give the individuals that are labelling him, a label. He, too, is perceiving individuals.

Near the middle of the movie, a woman is speaking about why she left her boyfriend. She does not like how his speech reverted to his childhood speech, when they visited his hometown so she said, “...someone with those little accents was not going to crawl around inside of me, I was not going to have little southern babies who talk like that…” By saying, “who talked like that,” she proves that the language is what bothered her, not that they were southern. It seems as though she perceives this accent as sounding less educated than others. She wanted her children to speak like her, she didn’t want them to be different or individual. She assumed that if she married this guy, her children would have southern accents, which wouldn’t necessarily be true. It seemed that she had tied how he spoke, to her perception of him, which has now changed. She didn’t want her husband to be an individual and speak how he was comfortable, because she didn’t like it, and seemed to attach meaning to the way he spoke. It appears that she was not just focussed on how she felt about him, but how is southern accent would affect her and their future generations. She perceived him as a hillbilly, because he wasn’t speaking in a voice that she was accustomed or attracted to.

At the end of the movie a man is speaking about stereotypes, and how most people view certain types of people. In this instance, he was referring specifically to social class perceptions. He categorized groups of people when he said, “If you're a member of one of these stigmatized groups then the way you talk will also be stigmatized.” By saying “groups,” that immediately shows that although people are individuals, they get categorized. If an individual gets put into a group, then people will perceive him or her differently than if he or she were by themselves, or part of a different social or economic group. Using the word “will,” shows a sense of certainty; he knows that people will be stigmatized or perceived a certain way. By saying “then,” he is making a point that if you identify with one of the groups, it will cause you to be perceived a certain way no matter how you talk.

At Science Leadership Academy, students view accents as a good thing. They like that people are different or unlike everyone else. There are many quotes that I could use to show how people at SLA feel, but a few words that many students here have in common when they think about accents, are “pretty,” or “beautiful.” The people at SLA are open to differences, therefore when they meet people with accents different than theirs, they don’t assume that those people are less educated or will act a certain way. The word “pretty,” shows that the listeners have heard what the individual with an accent sounds like, rather than assuming that all people from that region sound the same. It also shows that the perceptions of people can be positive as well. When they say, “beautiful,” they show that they are being accepting and welcoming to each student with an accent, which helps those with different dialects to feel comfortable in an environment where everyone else has the same way of speaking.

Language gives people a sense of individuality, but assumptions can affect perceptions. These interviews show that perceptions of human beings can individualize or categorize citizens of the United States. Something as simple as an accent or dialect can identify or define a person. Even the social or economic group an individual belongs to, may cause people to perceive that individual in a certain way. This shows that people's perceptions of accents can take away individuality, by pressuring people to conform to a specific style of speaking. Another way assumptions can affect perceptions, is by people positively have an assumption. When one makes an assumption about someone, whether good or bad, others will perceive the individual a certain way until they can get to know the person.





Works cited:


N/A. "Documentary: “AMERICAN TONGUES” by Andrew Crowley." Web log post.Ravenouslanguage. Wordpress.com, 06 Dec. 2010. Web. 02 Nov. 2013.



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Suffering in Silence

Posted by Gina Sorgentoni in English 2 - Pahomov - E on Sunday, November 3, 2013 at 9:51 pm

Speech impediments affect millions of people worldwide. Over three million people stutter in America alone. Speech impediments can be caused by a variety of things, the two most common reasons are developmental and neurogenic. Often times people who have an impediment to go speech therapy to try and overcome their stutter. People with a speech impediments often have less power in a system because of  the unwillingness of others to listen.


John Stossel, a co-anchor on 20/20, had a major speech impediment. He stuttered. As a child and even early in his broadcasting career John had to face the daily challenges of his speech impediment. In an interview with Stossel he says, “Fear of stuttering can easily become worse than the stuttering itself…”  Many with a stutter have a fear of being rejected because of their stammer, rather than their actual impediment. This silences countless stutters. This silence gives them less power in a system compared to someone free of a speech impediment. Whether the system be where that person works, learns, or lives. These people can often be eclipsed by the shadow of their stutter. Stuttering can affect anybody at any age, though it commonly begins in childhood, it can also happen after a serious brain injury like a stroke. Stossel also talked briefly on what is was like growing up with a stutter, “I remember terror in the classroom...” This is a common fear, the terror that his listeners, or peers, would not listen to what he has to say but instead make fun of him for how he said it.


This is a problem that people who stutter, face daily. To try and help cope with their impediment, many go to speech therapy in hopes to help their stutter. With dedication and practice many people are able to overcome their impediment. People like Marilyn Monroe, James Earl Jones, and even Emily Blunt and King George IV, have all stuttered. The Stuttering Foundation did a small biography on Marilyn’s impediment, it was said,  “A speech therapist taught her how deliberate breathing prior to speaking could guide her to fluency.” Though in times of stress towards the end of her career the impediment became noticeable, look at how iconic she became. She worked so that her impediment wouldn’t control her, and this gave her the iconic and airy Marilyn voice.Speech therapy will not automatically cure a persons impediment, or turn them into famous actors, but with dedication a stutter could become less noticeable.


Thanks to the movie “Kings Speech” many have gotten a glimpse of what it is like living with a stutter. The film follows the story of King George IV overcoming his impediment while trying to rule a country. Though it is one thing to watch it in a movie and another to live it daily, this movie has shined a light on speech impediments like no other movie has. Wheeler-Bennet, the King’s biographer wrote, “..failures of previous specialists to affect a cure had begun to breed within him the inconsolable despair of the chronic stammerer and the secret dread that the hidden root of the affliction lay in the mind rather than the body.” So many people carry this secret dread of their stammer, even if they aren’t required to make war speeches in front of an empire. The feeling of not being taken seriously is often a bigger obstacle than the stutter itself. This makes us notice how someone without a stutter might look at those who do. In several points in the film mainly when Bertie, the future king, would make a public address did I notice the listener’s reactions. In the beginning of his speech many would look on eager to hear what he had to say. His first few stammers people would being to wince in embarrassment for him, before eventually looking away. In that situation the listener tried to distance themselves from the speaker as much as they possibly could. They did this by looking away, staring off into space, or twiddling their thumbs. Bertie's message was lost due to his stammer and people’s lack of patience.


While researching, trying to find how people react to a stutter I decided to see what google had to say. In a google search phrase, “Are people who stutter” google auto filled in the statement with the following : smarter, stupid, shy nervous, intelligent.  The first subject that was read was the shy nervous option which eventually lead to the National Stuttering Association’s common myths page. The association dismissed many myths such as “People stutter because they are shy and self conscious,” and  “Stuttering is a mental disorder.” The list goes on ranging from poor parenting to a lack of intelligence.  Another source that was found was the publics opinion on stuttering, most of the studies showed that the public thought those who stutter are shy and and often nervous.  It was also said that, “Considerably more children who stutter were bully victims than were children who do not stutter.” I wasn’t surprised by this, it is terribly cruel thing  to do to someone, especially a child. Children often have a short attention span, so not having enough patience and a lack of understanding can lead to bullying. This only makes it harder for someone to stutter have their voice be heard.


Recent media has shined a light on stuttering because of this we now have a better idea of what it is like living with a speech impediment. Many famous people like Marilyn Monroe and King George IV have stuttered, but with serious therapy, time, and dedication they have overcome their impediment and let their voices be heard. Many studies have been done to show that though stuttering is not caused by shyness or nervousness, it can be caused by emotional traumas. People who do stammer are no less intelligent, than someone who doesn’t. People with a speech impediments often have less power in a system because of  the unwillingness of others to listen.


Work Cited


Emily Aten, . N.p.. Web. 29 Oct 2013. <http://www.mnsu.edu/comdis/kuster/journal/hallen/public.html>.


. N.p.. Web. 29 Oct 2013. <http://www.stutteringhelp.org/content/stuttering-didn’t-silence-his-story-2020’s-john-stossel-inspires-others>.


. N.p.. Web. 29 Oct 2013. <http://www.stutteringhelp.org/content/stuttering-didn’t-silence-his-story-2020’s-john-stossel-inspires-others>.

National Institute of Deafness, A. C. D.. N.p.. Web. 29 Oct 2013. <https://www.nidcd.nih.gov/health/voice/pages/stutter.asp&xgt;.>


Center for stuttering therapy, . N.p.. Web. 31 Oct 2013. <http://www.coloradostutteringtherapy.com/additional_info/facts.htm>.











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Outcasted from the Beginning

Posted by Jacklyn Middleswarth in English 2 - Pahomov - E on Sunday, November 3, 2013 at 8:36 pm

Well, I guess you could call me crazy, I mean that’s how Italian New Yorker’s are perceived right? Dumb because they don’t speak right like others. There was a particular time when I felt this, being dumb for the way I talk. Being a teenager ain’t easy, especially when you “different.”

“Oh c’mon Michael, we don’ wanna be late.”

“Ma, you know I don’ wanna leave. One minute, we’ve gots time. Don’ gotta be dere til six anyway. It only five.”

She really had to make the flight at eight a.m.? Airports are stupid, gotta be there hours before yo flight. I could use that time hangin’ with mah friends, havin’ a good time. Not travelin’ seven hours to somewhere stupid where I know nobody.

“Do I gotta go? Boardin’ school is fo preps. I could live alone, I practically do. You never home, I always gotta feed mahself and shit.”

“You stuck with me boy, yo father’s dead. Where you gon’ go?”

Gettin’ off that plane never felt better, everythin’ was beautiful in Liverpool, but not the kids. Oh God, not the kids, they got to be some of the ugliest kids in the world.

The following Monday after we arrived, my Ma started her new job, and I started at a new school, King’s Bruton. All my luggage was put in a dorm (well here they call it quarters), and I was forced to have the bottom bunk by the door. Perks of being the new kid. In the afternoon, I started my classes. Great.

“Hey, erm, excuse me? Where’s class two fawty two?” I said to a kid, who looked like he was in 11th grade.

“Huh? That’s not a class. Sorry.”

“Oh, well you know where three fawty five is then?”

“I don’t know what ya sayin’, I’m lost. Try aaa-nun-c-eee-ate-ing better.”
All day it went like this. I was late by at least ten minutes ‘cause nobody in this school can understand simple English. I speak perfectly good, and it’s as if I speak a differen’ language. After classes, I jogged to my dorm to go call my Ma.

“Ma, the people here are dumb. Don’ know standard English.”

“Why’s dat my dear? ”

“Just some kids and teachers in the school don’ like how I speak. (speaks in a Liverpudlian accent)’I’m not torkin’ right.’ I’m not, “Ayyo, mate, what’s appenin’?’”

“Don’ worry about them, it’s only the first day. In a months time, things won’ seem as bad as they are right now. By the way, shouldn’ you be busy?”

“Ard, Ma. Talk to ya later.”

Two weeks and still no friends. Wow, what am I doin’ wrong? I should be the class clown, somebody fun, not no picked on loser. Thas for the wimps. Some 12th grader I never known, came up to me.

“Ayy mate, why don’t ya go back to New Yark? You not one of us, kid. You tork weird, and you just don’t belong.”

The same thing over and over. Mah speech is wrong? Their speech is wrong, I’m the only speakin’ right, they the one’s who say, “talk,” as “tork.” That day after school I went to my dorm with a swollen black eye. After the 12th grader talked to me, all his buddies came around and started throwin’ punches, and kickin’. I could feel the hate with each blow. The leaders of the dorms don’ seem to care, and nothin’ ain’t right here. My Ma was wrong. I’m the loser of this school ‘cause of dis damn accent.

“Is Michael Visss...innie here?” Said our English teacher on the first full month of school.

Out of her ignorance I said, “Nope. Michael Vicinni does happen to be here doe.”

“No need for smart-asses, ya wanker.” Said the kid sittin’ behind my.

“It’s a month inna school, boardin’ school, people shoulda know my name by now.”

“You warkin around like you own something,” said a classmate. “You oughtta get webbed with your attitude, nobody wants to be friends with a nob.”

After that I lost it. I couldn’ fight, I jus ran out, like a wimp cryin’. I lost all respect in myself. I wanted home. I needed my Ma, I needed friends who spoke like me. I’m usually the class clown, the one the girls like. Now imma no good, “wanker.” That afternoon I jus’ went to mah quarters, and called my Ma...Only to realize she’s busy and has no time for me. Great.

I walked into the mess hall to get some dinner, as usual I sat by myself. Halfway through when I was eating my dessert a girl come over, and might I add she was quite attractive, got goosebumps and everythin’.

“Erm ello, Michael is it?”

“Uhh, hi.”

“Sorry to bother you, I just noticed nobody eva sits wit you.”

“Yeah, don’ have no friends.”

“I’ll be your friend and help you wit your accent if you’d like. I noticed you get teased quite a bit.”

“That’d be uhh well, thanks uhh...”

“Ali, I’m in yer grade.”

“Thanks, Ali.”

That day was a turning point. Everyday Ali and I would sit under the Weeping Willow tree by the main entrance in front the school after three p.m. I helped her with math, and she helped me with my speech. She was beautiful, enticin’, long wavy blond hair with slight streaks, a perfect smile, with slightly blushed cheeks. She was practically an angel, and made me feel like nothin’ could go wrong. Mike and Ali, Mike and Ali, Mike and A...

*Smack*

This burly boy in my grade came around to me, with his group of friends. Ali was in the back of the group just watchin’, with a smile on her face. To think I could have friends here, to think somebody might like me, how stupid. 

“We’ve told you, you aren’t anythin’.” *Another smack across the cheek* “When you tork, you tork weird, it’s not right. Go back where you belong.”

The thought of Ali and I together was interrupted by punches, left and right, across the cheek, in the nose, in the eye, and more stupid comments about my accent. That was it.

“I’m not takin’ yo crap anymore. You ignant, imma be me. I may damn well, speak as I want.”

Before I knew it, I threw a punch at the main, burly boy’s face. It connected to his jaw, and my knuckles were scraped up by his teeth. The only thing I remember after that was sittin’ outside the principal's office. I was all alone though, no other boys, or Ali. My body was shakin’ and couldn’ sit still. I hated this place, why was I nervous about what the frickin’ principle thought? All that was said was me tellin’ my Ma I was expelled. Nobody else, just me. Great. 

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Hold Your Tongue

Posted by Anna Sugrue in English 2 - Pahomov - E on Sunday, November 3, 2013 at 8:28 pm

I wish I had yelled at those men. I wish I had slapped them across their pretty faces and told them my name. And my mother’s name. The number of my apartment. I wish I had tore holes in their silk jackets and made them look through the cracks and see the world through my eyes. I wish I had ripped out their Burish tongues and nailed them to the wall and said “This is what it means to free.”

+ + +

It was Friday. The fluorescent light above the check out counter flickered. Two young men, one in a blue silk suit and the other in a grey silk suit, laughed as they threw a case of beer on conveyor belt.

“Is that all, sir?” I asked.

“Oh yeah baby,” the man in the blue silk suit said, his Tary accent brusque and unpracticed. He winked.

“That ugly bitch thinks you like her,” his friend said, laughing. I scanned the beer and handed it to the bagger, Marc, my face reddening.

“What’s wrong?” Marc whispered. The man in the grey suit noticed us talking and trotted over to Marc, smiling.

“Hey fatass. I bet your dad was a whale who fucked an elephant who farted out you piece of shit.” The man smiled at Marc and handed me a ten dollar bill. I handed the man in the blue suit his receipt and his change, carefully hiding my anger.

“I hope you have a nice day sir!” Marc said cheerily. The men laughed and left the store, the door jingling as they left. “I don’t see what your problem was Mae. Of course, I didn’t know what they were saying, but I’m sure it was all in good spirits. They wouldn’t have been talking about us. Young Burish men like them have much more interesting things to laugh about than a cashier and a grocery bagger.” I nodded.

And held my tongue.

+ + +

“Are you getting off here?” I shook my head. “Well, I guess I’ll you see you tomorrow then.” Marc shuffled out of the subway car, quickly lost in a sea of polo shirts and khakis.

I turned back to the window, and watched the underground walls. There was graffiti everywhere, mostly in Tary, though occasionally brightly painted phrases in Burish. When I was in school, I knew kids who snuck into these tunnels and smoked and painted and said all the things they couldn’t say. I wondered what would have happened if they had met a Burish kid. I wondered why that Burish kid had anything to say that he could only share with the darkness.

I got off at the end of the line. The station was empty, except for one old vending machine. “No one down here is free” was sloppily graffitied in big Tary letters across the machine’s frosted glass front. As I got closer, I noticed someone had written a response to the Tary graffiti in neat blue Burish letters underneath. I waited in front of the vending machine until the subway had left. When the tunnel was silent, I pulled my pen out of my ponytail and wrote the Burish phrase on my forearm, careful to get every letter correct.

It was 9 o’clock, and outside the crumbling Tary neighborhood was falling asleep. It had once been one of the most lively and diverse areas in the city. But those days were long gone. Now, depressing and dilapidated, it was the perfect place for rebel groups to hide. Revolutionaries hid amongst the abandoned art galleries and empty cafés. The police never bothered to make rounds this far out, and the street lights had stopped working years back. Under the cover of darkness, rebel organizations built their strength and intelligence, preparing for the day when they will restore equality.

I walked the five blocks quickly and quietly, blending in with the shadows. I stopped in front of a narrow gated alley way. I slipped inside, closing the gate quietly behind me. It was even darker there, but I was used to it now. Eight steps forward, first door on the right. Knock. They will see you, and if they know you, they will let you in.

“Ah, Mae, late as usual,” Evelyn smiled and greeted me with a hug. Her Tary was perfect. Evelyn’s husband, Philip, greeted me with a nod. Philip and Evelyn had been young, rebellious fools. Philip had suffered the consequences, and no longer had a tongue. Now, they were old, cautious rebels. And they were teaching us Burish.

The classroom was in an old bakery that used to sell gourmet cupcakes. There was a circle of old pink metal chairs in the center of the room. In each seat there was a familiar face; a tired face. Each one of us had stumbled upon Evelyn and Philip one way or another, and now each of us was as invested as the next in being a part of the revolution.

I sat in the last empty seat next to Evelyn, and the class began.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” Evelyn said in Burish. We echoed. “In today’s meeting,” she continued in Burish, “we will learn how to talk to police officers and federal officials, especially in an issue of arrest.”

We immersed ourselves in the language. We took on Burish names, like Elizabeth and Maxwell and Isabella and Anthony. We wore stolen neckties and moldy faux-fur coats. Our Tary and our Burish intertwined together. Our exhaustion turned to excitement. It felt like we were building something. It felt right. We found security in our own fantasies. We shared our dreams with one another like graffitied rebels shared their words with the walls. We thought, unlike the underground artists, that one day we would be something.

+ + +

There was a knock. And the door was in splinters on the floor.

“Put the books down fuckheads. You are all under arrest. You must remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. Come to think of it, it already has.” Both policemen chuckled.

The classroom was silent. The man next to me, Jack, looked one policeman straight in the eye and said, in perfect Burish, “What seems to be the problem sir?”



The room turned to chaos. The blood of Burish officers and Tary rebels intertwined. I attempted to punch the officer closest to me, but he deftly grabbed my wrist and twisted it until he heard a crack. Pain shot down my arm. I screamed.

“Ugly bitch!” I yelled in Burish.

“So that’s what they’ve been teaching you, huh?” He slapped me across the face, hard, and dragged me out the door by my limp wrist. My jacket sleeve fell down to my elbow.

“What does that say on your arm girl?” He stopped in front of a small chrome cop car. The damp night air shimmered around me. “Freedom is overrated, it says. Damn straight girl. Damn straight.”

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ENG2-014

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