Speech in society is judged by the populace. The type of speech that is acceptable depends on the culture of the country or area. For example what is acceptable speech at home would not be considered acceptable speech in the working world. In today's American culture the extent to which a person can effectively speak English contributes heavily to whether they lead a successful life. There is also a definite correlation between economic status and the way someone speaks, when a person who is of low economic status has a habit of speaking in a way that is improper it leads to them not being able to succeed in the future. Specific victims of speech harming a person's chances are immigrants, and inner city African Americans.According to The Bureau of Labor Statistics the African American unemployment rate is 3% higher than the national average I blame this on our “African American vernacular” and how its not acceptable in America's Culture

In one story I read, it talked about the black vernacular or the language that African Americans use to talk to each other. He justifies their use of the English language, while I think this is a good thing it limits African Americans. If society only accepts one way to speak it's necessary for economic survival to conform to that.

It was first grade and I was sitting in my least favorite class, speech therapy. Around me were two of my friends, which wasn’t a coincidence, and the teacher of my first grade class

“One, Two, Three,” I said over and over again

The worst part about speech therapy is that they never tell you what you’re saying or doing wrong, they just tell you to repeat the words you mess up until you get it right. While in the class I was constantly wondering why I was there, I myself couldn’t find anything wrong with my speech. Looking back now I realize that I picked up a lot of language while talking to my friends and hearing my Dad speak to me, my Dad didn’t have a specific incorrect way of speaking but he always switched from the way he talked at work and around co-workers compared to when he was home.

“No, you have to pronounce the R correctly,” my teacher said

I finally knew something I was doing wrong from the perspective of my teacher. But from my eyes I was speaking the right way, I was speaking the way my dad spoke when he spoke at home. But I now know that in society the way I knew was right wasn't.

In Mother Tongue Tan provides insight into how her mothers language affected her life “I think my mother's English almost had an effect on limiting my possibilities,”(Tan, 3). While I do not think the way my parents speak will affect my future in life, I know it will and does for other people and their parents. African Americans, Asians, Hispanics and anybody else who has an origin that is not from an English speaking country can fall victim to people associating speech with intelligence. Speech in America is a way to put down those already at a disadvantage, James Baldwin said perfectly that “Language is also a political instrument,” (Baldwin, 1). Employers choose not to hire people who don't talk within the cultural standard. Some employers choose not to hire these people without thinking of the reason they talk with their altered English. While there are many reasons people and cultures have a specific way of speaking, an example I can think of in America is slavery. During and after slavery African Americans were not allowed to be taught English at all, it was to prevent them from escaping their imprisonment and backstabbing their slave owners. After slavery, African Americans were segregated into poorer schools, this lasted until 1964 which was only about 50 years ago. In today's culture the effect of slavery can still be seen. African Americans have a higher than average poverty and unemployment rate and one of the causes for this is the fact that they were never accepted into the culture of America, instead they chose to make their own.

Something said by Baldwin many years ago still holds true“If you are not a participant in the culture of power being told the rules of that culture makes acquiring power easier.” (Baldwin, 1) There are exceptions to what I’ve said above and that pertains to people who have forgotten their culture or choose to hide when in sight of those who do not accept it. My Dad is an example of this, like everybody does, he code switches between using the language his culture taught him and using the language cultural capital taught him this allowed him to see success in America. But is the fact that he had to code switch to succeed in America really a bad thing?

Baldwin, James. "If Black English Isn't A Language, Then Tell Me, What Is?." Nytimes.com. N. p., 1979. Web.  July. 1979.

http://www.nytimes.com/books/98/03/29/specials/baldwin-english.html

Tran, Amy, “Mother Tongue.”

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8Cvq7ioloJpZGNkYTM0ZjUtNDczZC00NWE2LWEyMTQtMjgzZDRhYTAzNTBi/view

“Bureau of Labor Statistics Data.” U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, data.bls.gov/timeseries/LNS14000006.

Generally, everyone learned their first word from their family. As I grew up learning English and Chinese, I remembered those days when I would run into people where I have a hard time speaking to in Chinese because of how I grew up learning it. One day, my mother was speaking to me about my Chinese. About how I only knew so little of it, and it was true.

Feeling helpless, my mother said jokingly, “You’re so useless, you can’t even speak Chinese that properly and if I were to ever take you to China you would be so lost.”

I never attended  Chinese school like the other kids did. So I didn’t expect myself to speak the “Chinese” like they do. Technically I did go to Chinese school for a year, but stopped, and it was terrible, I learned absolutely nothing. It’s like when you were in preschool and all you do is draw and run around and have fun. My parents would’ve taken me to Chinese school if they had the time to, and they didn’t, which is why I could only learn so much from my parents. When I started to learn English, I started to mix my Chinese with my English, so the words in Chinese I didn’t know would be substituted in English. I guess I can call it Chinlish. This was generally a family thing, I did it to most of my family and my siblings does too, except for the ones that didn’t understand English at all.

The way I speak with my families and close one are a lot different than how I would talk to another person in chinese. In Mother Tongue, Amy Tan points out how the way she speaks English and what that English they used has become: “It has become our language of intimacy, a different sort of English that relates to family talk, the language I grew up with” (Tan, 1). In the way I speak Chinese to my family is typically another way of how I speak to my family. Just like in Mother Tongue, Tan can say her mother speaks broken English. And in my case, I can say I speak “broken Chinese,” or Chinlish(Chinese and English together). This is what you can consider a type of literacy, the different forms of languages you take on and if you dig a little deeper how you use these languages in a way you feel most comfortable. When I run into a Chinese person that doesn’t speak English, I would feel uncomfortable because I have to speak in a way I’m not used to or I’ll not know what to say. Which will make the person I’m talking to think I’m stupid or uneducated.

   In a place like China, people would expect you to speak and understand Chinese fully. And there are three languages that fall into the category of Chinese which is Mandarin, Cantonese, Fuzhounese. My parents knows how to speak all three, I only know a few words in each languages mainly the words my parents often used, which are pretty much consider foul words. But besides that, the language I grew up with I can barely speak one without throwing an english words in. So if I were to go to China one day, I would run into a lot of trouble and probably be considered out of place.

When I look at languages throughout the world I can see similar situations happening. A good example is Amy Tran in Mother Tongue, she has a similar situation but with english. It’s how she has a way of speaking english to her close ones. In anyone's case it all depends on what circumstances you are under. Everyone talks different in a environment they are in, and some talks the same too.

Overall, the way I speak Chinese will always be fine throughout my family, but I constantly have have to speak a certain way in the environment I am in. I cannot have a conversation with the way I speak to my family to other people who would not understand what I’m saying. I have to speak the language they are most comfortable with. It’s like how I talk to my friends and how I talk to strangers. Overall people will feel more comfortable with their friends than strangers. I can’t just talk to someone in a different language or way because they’ll just be confused and awkward. So I’ll have to switch the way I speak to where I am, even though it may be difficult, especially in Chinese, I’ll only fail a couple times.

Advanced Essay

I entered my kindergarten classroom literate in English, and left literate in two languages. This was a phenomenon I couldn’t fully process as a five year old. My brain swirled in circles, as a child does, and learning two languages at once just became custom. I started by learning Spanish the way I had learned English years before, Maestra Maricarmen would point to a grape and we would all respond in unison, “uva.” I spoke Spanish all day long, to the point where it felt weird when I would go home and have to speak English. I ate dinner and went to bed like the usual kindergartener, with the thoughts off all of the things I had learned and had yet to learn. My eyes slowly started to drift into dreamland. My mind began to swirl into a scene where I was doing my homework and my mom was standing above me. She was speaking and speaking in a way I had never realized her do before.

“¿Qué dice la pregunta 5? Creo que la maestra equivocó.”

Through my dream I slowly started to realize what was off, my dream was in Spanish. My body jerked up in shock. What just happened? The sun was slowly rising through the shades on my window. I could feel my eyes droop back into dreamland and I fell back asleep.

As my literacy in two languages was growing, I realized parts of my learning experience that were changing. I was becoming more culturally aware solely through the ability to communicate with others and connect through a common factor. When we went to the Mexican market on the corner, me, the 7-year-old, was the one who would talk to the owner. When I read books, I was able to read about Latin American culture in the language they speak. When I went to class, I was able to communicate with students who didn’t speak any Spanish. When I travelled with my family, I was the one who got us around. These experiences made me realize this great power that I possessed. It was an ability to communicate with others who had very different backgrounds than myself.  

Sixth grade began with a huge influx of new students, most of whom were Mexican immigrants who arrived in Philadelphia a few months before. One of these students, Brenda, was seated right next to me in Maestra Antonia’s class. I looked to her and asked, “¿Hola, cómo estás?” She looked at me with a smile and responded, “Bien, eres la primera Americana que ha hablado en Español a mi.” In translation she was saying that I was the first American who had spoken in Spanish to her. Over the years she would always look at me during class and smile, realizing she was in a community that accepted her culture. The school was full of diversity in language, and we were all learning more Spanish together. This power of multiple literacies helped with the ability to communicate with people comfortably in their own language, instead of the much too common story of other language speakers having to adapt to English for the comfort of others.

The immersion school environment that I had become used to and loved went completely against the idea that “If you want to be American, speak ‘American.’ If you don’t like it, go back to Mexico where you belong” (Anzaldúa, How to Tame a Wild Tongue, 34). Culture and language was celebrated in every course. The ideology was led through further understanding from communication and adaptation.

People are so often limited to their world by the language they speak. They lack perspective on culture because of the vast majority of people they can’t communicate with. This creates ignorant conflict of the oppressor versus the one being oppressed by the lack of ability to express their full culture. This comes into play in the oppressive manner that America treats language and diversity, where it backplays in the constitution itself, “Attacks on one’s form of expression with the intent to censor are a violation of the First Amendment” (Anzaldúa, How to Tame a Wild Tongue, 34).

Other countries treat bilingual education as a vital element in the education system where kids leave bilingual or even trilingual. The American school system sees literacy in two languages as a waste of resources and laughs at that vital element. In result, children aren’t given enough language courses, of which are treated as extra instead of a main course. This limits the ability of students to acknowledge changing diversity and see the broad places that the world has to offer, because of the lack of a diversity in literacy. This in turn changes the way that students of diverse backgrounds are treated, their languages are seen as less and a waste of time to deal with. Those students are treated as dumb and not brought to their full potential because of the way the school system places them in a, “dumping ground for the disaffected” (Rose, I Just Wanna Be Average, 2). Diverse versions of literacy create a more culturally literate and accepting society.

Works Cited

Rose, Mike. “I Just Want to be Average .” Google Drive, Google,   drive.google.com/file/d/0B8Cvq7ioloJpN2JmMDk3ZWQtYmI5OS00OTM3LTk5MDctZWMzZTViNGVhNjBi/view.

Almost every child goes through the phase of curiosity, and I was no different. At the age of 7, I wanted travel around the world with my best friend, Julie. Julie and I were inseparable,--physically and mentally--she was imaginary friend, even though she was a purple sprinkle. I sought advice from Julie everyday because she was always right, ever since she popped in my head a year before.This joyous time came to an end, when a fateful Saturday afternoon ruined our relationship.

“Mommy are we gonna get ice cream?” I questioned.

My mother swiftly turned around and gave my the death stare as if to say: ‘Don’t you dare ask me that question again’. My brain immediately registered the look and I slumped back into my car seat, staying silent.

We arrived at a place full of people. My mother, Julie, and I walked through a gate, leading to rows of golf clubs hanging, all different colors. My mother handed me one.

‘What is this, a bat?’

‘I don’t know maybe mommy wants us to play’

‘Play what?’

‘I don’t know Julie!’

‘Stop yelling at me! That’s not nice’

‘Alright, I am very sorry. I’ll ask mommy what it is’

My eyes trailed up to my mother, who was handing the man at the booth money. I tugged on her shirt. She ignored me, didn’t even bother to look down at me. I grabbed her shirt again, with a better grip, and pulled it again. She rotated. Her demeanor changed, and her face looked as though it was caving inwards, with her nose scrunched up.

My curiosity is just like building up a skill or habit, it’s something I was proud of, didn’t get ashamed or embarrassed by it. Although my mother constantly wondered why I was like this, it just came naturally to me, I couldn’t control it. It was like my brain needed to learn and understand what is going on, how everything works, and how to make sense of it all. Like Ta-Nehisi Coates said in the biography, Between the World and Me: “You are growing into consciousness, and my wish for you is that you feel no need to construct yourself to make other people comfortable.” Coates explains that people who use creativity or any other way that is different to interpret the world is inspiring, and nobody should make fun of it; instead let it be an example to aspire to.

We went through a lot of different golf courses, and I went skipping along with my club swinging around in circles. I was singing my favorite song: Leave Me Alone, by Michael Jackson. Right away, Julie started singing along.

‘So just leave me alone’

‘Leave me alone, leave me alone’

‘Leave me alone, stop it!’

‘Just stop doggin me around’

Our duet came to a stop, as the screech of my mother’s voice was heard. I stopped my music video and ran back towards her, realizing I sang my way past the pretty fountain. The fountain had a humongous gold golf ball on top, with four holes in the sides of the ball. In these holes, water poured out gracefully into a pool. Intrigued with the whole thing, my body moved towards the fountain on its own.

Next thing I knew I was standing right in front of the fountain, as I climbed up into the wall and looked over the rail and into the fountain water.

This gorgeous purple golf ball was staring directly at me.

‘You know you want it, just go get it’

‘No I can’t go in the water’

‘Then put ya hand in and get the ball’

‘But…’

‘Do it, you know we want it’

With an evil grin, I let curiosity take over me. I crawled under the rail and stood up. I stretched my arm out, to where the purple ball was, and wiggled my fingers to move closer. Without thinking, I leaned forward some more, way past my limit of balance. I fell head first into the fountain, making a huge commotion.

‘Julie, this is all your fault! We are not friends anymore.’

I grabbed my purple ball and got out of the fountain, and walked a couple of feet to where my mother was standing. She looked down at me and started laughing.

Many people people saw me as a bad little girl playing around, other than my mother. My curiosity lead me to a tool to learn and grow from my mistakes. Without curiosity, there would be nothing to try, therefore nothing to learn from in my life. Learning makes me intelligent, only a fool does not learn from his mistakes. My mother understood this about me, she knew my curiosity would get me in trouble.

“You did all of that to get a purple ball?” She said, with a puzzled look on her face.

I nodded my head and raised the ball to her face.

“You are so cute, let’s go get ice cream and sit in the sun.”

Even in The Giver, by Lois Lowry, everything is so plain and boring city and everyone has to follow the rules with no exceptions, but Jonas is different. When Jonas’s eyes are unusual, he is able to see color, when most people in the community cannot. He has an exceptional gift that allows him to see and interpret things different than everyone else; he is able to see “deeper” into the world that is around him, giving him the advantage of understanding and seeing life.

Jonas and I are just the same, the same glow in the eyes that say: extraordinary. We both are anxious about the world we live in, and we learn the exact same way.

For as long as I can remember, I've always been a free spirit. I was someone who, when comfortable, could express my opinions and thoughts without caring what other people think. I was raised to make my own choices, and those lessons I learned stuck with me, even when I felt like I was being caged in. I always remembered that no matter what, no matter who you were, nobody, not even myself, could cage my free spirit.

From the time I was born, my family was always open, there were no such thing as secrets. We were raised to be the same way. If we ever had a question, my parents would always provide an answer as best they could; like the time when I was at my uncle’s house for Christmas. The house was beautifully and intricately decorated. There were strings upon strings of both colored and white bulbs lining the railings and walls along with long strings of shiny green, red, and white garland. The whole house shone and sparkled as bright as the pretty star on top of his six foot tree.

“Mommy, why is Uncle Billy holding hands with that other man?”

    “Well sweetie, that’s his boyfriend. That's the way Uncle Billy always been. He loves boys, and always will, and that's okay.”

“Oh, okay, Mommy! Do you think they will get married?”

We were always taught to be ourselves; dance like nobody's watching, sing like nobody's listening, dress for your own fashion show, walk to the beat of our own drum. It's just how my life was, and I loved being able to be myself and make my own choices. I loved feeling so free as a child.

However, things started to change when I started elementary school.

All throughout elementary and middle school I was forced to conform, and shamed for being different. It didn’t matter how small the issue was, I was punished for breaking rules and being a “distraction.”

The dress code for my old school was ridiculous. Every shirt you wore had to have the school logo on them, all bottoms must be khaki or blue for gym days, and every shoe had to be brown for regular days and all white for gym days. All shirts had to be tucked in, no exceptions. Boys were not, under any circumstance, to be without a belt, or have their hair lay past their collar. Girls were not, under any circumstance, allowed to wear pants or shorts, have crazy hairstyles or colors, or have a skirt that was too short. That is just the short of it.

I used to get dress coded and punished often, even if the issue was minor. There was the time when I was in sixth grade. It was lunchtime and I had gotten out of my seat in the middle of the room to go buy a snack from the display of starches and sweets they had at the back wall of the cafeteria. The lady running the table gave me a bright smile and let me select and pay for my snack with ease. As I was turning around to return to my seat, I was met with the dark blue fabric of a sweatshirt, and stumbled back in surprise. I looked up to meet the cold sneer of the cafeteria security guard, Mr. Moon.

“H-hi, Mr. Moon…” I said softly.

He continued to stare blankly at me

“Your shirt,” he deadpanned.

My eyes moved nervously side to side in their sockets.

“What about it?”

“It’s untucked. Why?”

Oh crap.

“Oh uh...it felt too tight and I got uncomfortable, so I untucked it.”

“It’s still against the rules, go to the bathroom and fix it, or it’s a demerit.”

I gulped and accepted my defeat, retreating into the bathroom.

I felt caged my entire elementary and middle school career, and I knew I didn't like it. So when I got into eighth grade, I finally took charge. I started leaving my shirt out more often, and after multiple warnings, the teachers eventually gave up. I started listening to my music louder; the sound of long guitar riffs and heavy drums physically making my peers flinch in fear. I stopped letting people treat me as if I was below them, I started to stand up for myself and argue back. I remember the feeling I got when I would beat kids in an argument and see them slink away in shame and embarrassment.

Things got better when I graduated. I felt free from the chains that middle school put on me. At my new high school, I was able to express myself how I wanted. I took my new found freedom and flew with it. I cut my hair and dyed my hair crazy colors, I bought more clothes that were my style, and I stopped keeping secrets and came out to my immediate family and friends. I wanted to go to my new school as the real me, not the me that my middle school tried to make me.

With that attitude in mind, I’ve managed to make it to my junior year of high school confident and happy. I haven’t let anyone hold me back from expressing myself how I wanted to, whether it be how loudly I spoke in a class discussion or how I wore my hair. I love the freedom that being at SLA gives me, it feels good not to be in a cage anymore. I want everyone to feel the same way I do. I want everyone who is too scared to be themselves, to know that it’s okay to be you. It’s not easy being comfortable with yourself, but with a little practice, and the freedom to be as expressive as you want, I know that everyone can fly just as high as I can.