Interpretations of a Bilingual Life

English sans rules!

What I love about English is that we adapt many words from other languages into our vocabulary. In fact, many times the words remain in tact. Such as the word, “sans” it is purely French, yet we use it in our everyday language.

As I delve into my doctoral studies the more at ease I feel about using “language.” There are so many language varieties to choose from really. Except we don’t usually get to choose them, they’re the ones who make us who we are. They reflect where we have been and where we come from. What’s interesting, and at times, difficult for some to realize or understand, is the more fluent you are in any language variety, the easier it is for you to switch from one to another. Take “borrowing (a.k.a Spanglish)” some would argue that it’s actually quite a skill to be able to “borrow”  and code-switch between Spanish, English, and Spanglish. I found this really hard to believe UNTIL two things happened to me. One: living, seeing, and experiencing Texas and TWO: reading Killer Cronicas: Bilingual Memories by Susana Chavez-Silverman.

How does this all relate to “English sans rules?” Well, its quite simple. For as much criticism as many non-dominant language varieties get from the African-American Vernacular English to Spanglish dialects; we have to remember that English is one particular language that does not have an “academy” to over see its “proper” usage! It is fluid. Thats the beauty of English. For instance, as I mentioned in an earlier post, in English, we tend to hyphenate words in order to describe something, like “passion-driven” writing.

Doesn’t that make you wonder why we don’t have “accent academies?” I mean really, as much as I favor the language academies that maintain languages such as Spanish and French, they do seem a little pretentious. Think about it. If there’s a “proper” way of using language, doesn’t that imply that there is a “proper” way of pronouncing words? Hmm…that would make for an interesting argument. Wouldn’t it?

Flying Stand-by

Have you ever flown “stand-by?” Well neither have I, but I’m trying to plan a trip to Europe this summer with the intentions of flying stand-by and boy is it…hmm whats the right word….phrase maybe….oh! I know like you’re in limbo. There are so many uncertainties, unpredictable events depending on where we land. Did I mention we are willing to take ANY non-stop flight? Well, as I began to try and think about what our 3-week adventure through Europe might look like I started to feel insecure about the trip and really simply not knowing how to negotiate costs. I felt a sort of uneasiness and you know what thats when it hit me! As a “native US bilingual” individual I have felt like I have been flying standby all my life between Spanish and English!!!

I can remember as a child being stunned after watching my abuelita smoke a cigerratte AND in our own house! My parents never allowed anyone to smoke in our house and there she was smoking a cigarette with a beer in the other hand. As I stood there in disbelief the words couldn’t come out of my mouth fast enough. I wasn’t sure how to say “to smoke,” but I worked around it by shouting, “Abuelita, tu smokas!!” Y en ese momento nadie pudo aguantar las carcajadas/And at that moment no one could hold back their laughter. I was utterly embarressed I chose the wrong word….sort of, right.

So, as I was saying all my life I have felt as if I were flying standby between English and Spanish. There were always so many uncertainties like am I making up a word or should I say the adjective first in a sentence and then the noun? There were also so many unpredictable events especially when my parents Spanish-speaking friends would come over. I would always think, “Oh great! Not only am I going to have to kiss their cheek (and ALL of them), but Im also going to have to use Spanish.” Believe it or not it wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I felt a little less insecure about using Spanish. As I mentioned earlier, flying standby can be hard to negotiate costs, events, and planning for that matter. This is how I have felt about being bilingual for many, many years. So, how do I feel now? Better. Now I feel like I at least know which country I’m landing in and that Ill be able to get around, but know that every once in a while there may be a word or two I don’t know AND when that does happen Ill resort to the most appropriate language variety for that particular context.

Ciao, Au’revoir, Adios, Good-bye, and Adieus.

Speakin’ like a Texan/Tejana!

When I first moved to Texas 14 years ago I swore that I would never, absolutely never, speak like a Texan. Guess what? I kinda, sorta am! In fact, I swore that I would never speak like a “Texan” or a “Tejana.” I didn’t for many, many years up until I moved back  for the second time about 2 years ago. I guess it took TWO moves to Texas to get me to assimilate just a little bit.

What’s even more interesting or obnoxious depending on who is reading this posting is that it took pursuing a doctoral degree in bilingual & bicultural education to convince me that it was okay to speak like a Texan or Tejana! Lately, I find myself saying y’all and code-switching left and right and I feel more comfortable with my use of all the language varieties I speak.

In an earlier posting I mentioned that I was tired of speaking Spanish. After taking a deep breathe and reflecting more on my readings about the use of language varieties I am more and more comfortable with code-switching when I don’t know the word in Spanish. Or if I can’t remember the word in English I’ll just reference the Spanish one. It’s great!

All of this has led me to research what most of Texas uses to teach English: The Transitional Bilingual Education Model. I’m curious as to how teachers balance the use of language varieties in the classroom. More specifically, I’m curious to see how students fair in terms of standadrdized test scores after being exposed to multiple language varieties (e.g. Standard English, Standard Spanish, constant code-switching, borrowing (a.k.a Spanglish)

Bueno…haber lo que resulta….we’ll see what comes of this!

Saludos!

Killer Crónicas: Bilingual Memories by Susana Chávez-Silverman

I bought this book, “Killer Cronicas,” today at my favorite locally owned bookstore in Santa Ana, C.A. called Libreria Martinez. My sister Sarah Rafael Garcia introduced me to the bookstore when she did her first reading there this past summer. I enjoy going to this bookstore when I visit partially because the owner, Rueben Martinez, is so friendly and excited about all of his books, but also because it has quite an array of Latino books there. Everything from children’s, teenage, and adult texts color the bookshelves of this well known establishment. The owner was recently honored in the Ornage Country Register as holding a “PhD in Life.” If you were to walk into his bookstore you would certainly feel as if you had known him all your life. He has that kind of energy and charisma with people.At any rate, the reason I’m writing this post is because I picked up a book that called out to me. The author, Susana Chavez-Silverman,  reminded me of someone I could become. In short, her book is a memoir, of her experiences as a bilingual individual living here in the US and abroad. She offers an interesting perspective. It made me realize that sometimes language experiences can be told as they are. It also made me realize that the interpretations I am telling are very hmm analytical? Maybe very much a proactive, hands-on analysis of my language experiences…maybe my readers can tell me.

The influence of my mother-tongue…

I made an interesting observation this past year. This is related to our identities and the language(s) we speak. My sister had the first grandchild in January of this year amongst my sisters and I. I met Rafael about six weeks after he was born. Like any new Tia I was super excited and ready to hold and kiss him. Interestingly enough the first few utterances that came out of my mouth and continue to do so were in Spanish. It wasn’t something I planned. It just happened. Sure I use English, but Spanish comes out when I’m feeding him or giving him kisses. I think it’s because my mother always spoke to us in Spanish. It’s the language I associate with when communicating with my nephew. It’s the influence of my mother-tongue. We resort to what we find natural, to what we know. 

Nurturing my language awareness…

In one of my recent blogs I complained about being tired of speaking Spanish, but I’m beginning to think that not speaking it and not being as aware about how I use it has been detrimental to what I write about on this blog. I really haven’t had a language experience to reference! So, I’m going to, “continuar con la lucha,” continue with the struggle. In a way it is a struggle, but in other ways it’s what keeps me curious about how we acquire language, how we create identities based on the language(s) we speak, and how we develop bilingual and bicultural lives.So, onward I go. As I have said in previous blog posting I am turning on my Spanish switch once again.  

West to East Side of Austin..a different flare!

Saturday morning started out with a yawn, a stretch, and a fresh cup of coffee! The fresh cup of coffee was key to getting Marquitos out of bed to head to my favorite place in Austin, Lady Bird Lake (a.ka. Town Lake) I have to admit I had a little resentment towards the new name, until I realized that the woman who funded the wonderful place had recently passed away,  and thats why it is now called,”Lady Bird Lake.” Well she certainly lived up to her name, Lady Bird.

Some of my best days have been ones that were unplanned and slightly unpredicatable. Had I known that I would be cruising around central and east Austin until 7PM I might have worn something other than what I went to sleep in! Saturday was certainly one of those days. I had every intention of walking 4 miles with Marcus as we have plenty of Saturday mornings. As we were walking from my car to the lake I couldn’t help but take a fresh breathe, hug Marcus as we walked, and say, like I always do, “I love this place! Too bad we can’t live closer to it!” Just as we were walking onto the trail I noticed a man at a table soliciting some information. I’m always curious to see what sort of solicitations people are promoting at the lake. Well it turned out to be some organization that was trying to Keep Austin Beautiful! Before we knew it, we were grabbing a large trash bag, some sort of trash picker-upper device and slipping our hands into protective gloves. Yup, thats right, we were picking up trash at the lake. So much for our 4 mile, heart pumping, eye-pleasing, fresh-air smelling walk!!! I have to admit we weren’t doing this because we are such whole hearted, intrinsically driven individuals. If you found the “easy to find” envelopes and returned by 11am you could win wonderful prizes to Austin original venues, like The Alamo Draft House! Needless to say we never found an envelope, but we filled up the hefty, hefty trash bags.

During our trash picking up escapade we got a little bitter especially because we weren’t finding any envelopes. We started imagining all the individuals that could have dumped their trash at our beautiful lake. We found everything from a deflated soccer ball to high-end beer bottles! The hour sort of flew by, but I was really regretting not enjoying my 4 mile walk. Marcus, being the reflective person that he is, reminded me that we were simply doing our part in Keeping Austin Beautiful. “Oh right, ok Marquitos,” I replied.

From there we met my sister and an old friend at Joe’s Bakery and Mexican Cafe on E. 7th Street. Wow! If you have ever seen a movie from Bollywood, you would totally get what Im about to describe, except this would be a Mexican version of Bollywood!

So, as I was saying we met up with my sister and an old friend who grew up in East Austin and recently returned to live in his old neighborhood. For those of you who aren’t familar with Austin the East side is being revitalized, gentrified etc etc It really just depends on who you are speaking to. At any rate, it’s changing. The restaurant is your typical colorful Mexican restuarant. It even has La Virgen de Guadalupe in one corner. What I’m about to describe is what actually makes this place unique. First of all, this Satueday morning was the morning of a huge UT football game day. Mostly everyone there was wearing burnt orange and the restaurant was playing UT songs. Occasionally, about half the people in the restaurant would raise their fists and proudly sing the “Texas Fight” song and “The Eyes of Texas!” I swear it was like being in a Mexican Bollywood movie. Practically everyone in the restuarant was Hispanic and I’m willing to bet Mexican-American.

From there we went to “Rabbits,” a dive bar in E.Austin. If I had to describe this place in three phrases I would say something like, inexpensive imported beer, live Austin music, and friendly people. We stayed there for a little while…

I ended my day appreciating and loving the city I live in even more. I love that I belong to two different cultures. I helped keep our lake beautiful with fellow walkers, who were all anglo, but I can also hop over to the east side of Austin and fit right in with Latinos eating a traditional  Mexican breakfast while singing The Eyes of Texas!

*This weekend actually occurred about a month ago. 

Me llamo Suzanne

Sometimes the phonetics in one language do not always translate accurately. Simply said, this is the case for the way my family pronouces my name. It’s really quite out of hand, although it has evolved.

My parents have always called me, “Susen” which was fine up until I started to take a hold of my identity or in other words, up until I was old enough to understand language, both Spanish and English. Sort of…

My sisters call me “Susan”, which made sense when I was younger because my parents called me “Susen.” It all got really confusing when I was about 10 years old. I was writing my name at school or maybe at ballet because we always had to sign in before a dance class. As I was writing each letter it dawned me, MY NAME IS SUZANNE, not “Susen” or “Susan.” I marched home that day and told my mom that she had been calling me the wrong name for a very long time. I said, “My name is spelled “Suzanne” not “Susen.” Being the strong-willed mother that she is, she said “I am your mother. I named you. I can say your name however I please.” Case rested.

Ok. Fine, but from that day forward any new friend or person I met I called myself “Suzanne.” So, its worked, people call me “Suzanne.” My sisters will call me Suzanne sometimes sarcastically, but mostly they still call me “Susan.”

As I learned more and more about second language acquisition or more specifically about the phonological system of Spanish I understood why my mother calls me “Susen.” The “Z” in Spanish makes the “S” sound. As far as my mother saying “SusEn,” I think it was her attempt to prnounce it they way she heard it.

So, my name has evolved. I’m even known as “Chuchen” (Ch/ch making the “Shh” sound) because when my youngest sister was barely starting to speak she she would say “Shushen” instead of “Susen.” Today as a bilingual educator to children and adults I use my name in lessons to explain the “Z” sound in English. Students usually giggle at the story I have just shared. Like I mentioned before whenever I am teaching a class I always make sure to eventually talk about how to say personal names in English and Spanish for those individuals who may not be able to pronouce a “foreign” name quite right.

I keep running into the pronunciation block when I travel abroad. Instead of teaching people how to say my name I simply change it to a name with a more international flare, like Susana! That being said,I find it interesting that people decide to call me something else anyways, probably because they know my name is not really Susana. They call me Susi or Sue, both of which really do not suit me. I guess you can say it will be a constant fixture in my life.

My children will definitely have international names!

The PhD adventure officially begins!

I paid my tuition bill this past week and was trying not to sweat, cry, or let any of my insecurities about this pursuit over take me because damn the tuition bill was expensive!!! Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it, but then I remember that the one thing not a single soul can take away from you is an education. Knowledge is power, it’s true. I observe this everyday.

So, the extensive post below is one of my first assignements due this coming Monday. Class hasn’t even begun and the professor sent a friendly e-mail attaching some readings and an essay that is due Monday.

I don’t know if anyone reads my blog, but to those of you who do I hope you enjoy my mini biography. I haven’t stated this publicly, but I will now. I hope to one day publish a book not just about my research, but about my “interpretations of a bilingual life.”

Enjoy the read and if you so dare, leave me a comment.

Bilingual & Bicultural Education

I didn’t realize I was of Mexican descent until I moved from a majority Latino city in Southern California to a majority white city in Southern California. I grew up in Santa Ana, California where my elementary school was pretty diverse. We had white, Asian, Latino, and Filipino students, although my nuclear family was part of a close-knit Latino community through our Catholic church. My parents were involved with helping “at-risk” youth get through all of their trials and tribulations. They were also involved in grass roots activities, like protesting against negligent apartment owners where many of their “at-risk” youths lived. I can remember one time participating in one of the protests and seeing Jorge Ramos interview some of the grass-roots organizers like my parents. That experience is part of the reason why I decided to read his most recent book called, Lo Que Vi.

My parents immigrated to Brownsville, Texas from Tamaulipas, Mexico in the late sixties. They came here legally, although my maternal grandmother came to work in Texas many times as an illegal immigrant in order to make ends meet. My paternal grandfather brought his family to the U.S. as a bracero worker. My paternal grandmother was born in South Texas, but moved to Mexico without a birth certificate, so when she came back to the States she had to get “papers” proving her citizenship, which ended up being Mexican due to lack of proof that she was born in the U.S.A. My mother was 13 when she immigrated and my father was 16 years old. Four years later they married and by the time my mother was 22 years old she had her third child. I lived in Brownsville until I was two years old and in California until I was 18 years old.

Language gurus state that after a certain age an individual will speak in the language that is considered to be their mother-tongue. This was the case for my parents. In our home they always spoke in Spanish to each other and as the years went by they spoke in Spanish to us less and less. I remember constantly hearing Spanish in my home, from the radio station, television, and friends that would come over. My parents never forced us to speak Spanish, they just always spoke it. To this day my mother speaks to me in her beautiful Spanish, while I speak to her in my “educated English.” As I grew older and realized that I understood two languages; my interest in improving my Spanish also grew.

I was tracked in high-school partially because I probably didn’t do well on standardized assessments and partially because the counselor knew my mother was raising three daughters alone. I guess you can say she knew her statistics. After my father passed away we moved to an “all white” city. I got asked many ignorant questions like, “Where do you tan?” to “Does your mom know any good sewers?” This is one of the ways I realized I was different, other than the fact that the only Latinos I could see in our community were the ones mowing the lawn or cooking food in restaurants.

The only other language experience I had, other than my exposure to Spanish at home, was my two years of high-school Spanish, both if which I passed with an easy “A.” I know my story is very much a cliché as a first generation born and raised in the U.S., but I like to think that it is somewhat unique, at least the years beyond high-school. We moved to Texas, where I started taking classes at a community college. I was forced to take remedial reading and writing. Ok, so maybe the few years after high school are still a little common amongst first generation Chicanos.

At 20 years old I experienced two events that changed the course of my life forever. I traveled outside of the USA for the first time, visiting my maternal grandmothers’ home state of Jalisco and I transferred to a four year university, the same one I am attending for my Ph.D. In Guadalajara I realized that I was American and at UT I realized that I had had a horrible education. I was put on academic probation after my first semester!

In December of 1996 I knew that I had to make a deliberate decision to continue my studies, while at the same acknowledging that I was walking a fine line of being a part of a stupid statistic that apparently was very clear to high school counselor, which ultimately meant dropping out of college and working at a hourly paid job for years on end. The following semester I tested out of all four Spanish classes, required to graduate, which helped my G.P.A., but also made me realize that I know Spanish, not as well as a native speaker, but I knew what sounded correct and what did not. After that strenuous year, I focused on making it through my studies and improving my Spanish by reading anything I could find that was written in Spanish. Since my trip to Guadalajara, Jalisco in 1996 I have traveled every summer to a different Spanish-speaking country in efforts to improve my Spanish. I have spent anywhere from a week to a month and a half each summer in another country. After twelve years of trying to speak Spanish eloquently and without an English accent I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be as fluent or close to fluent as a native speaker until I at least live in a Spanish-speaking country.

After I graduated in 1999 with my Bachelors of Arts degree I sought after several different job opportunities. No one would hire me. I had spent the last five years just trying to stay afloat. All of my time went into studying, all of it. I wasn’t involved in any clubs, nor did I venture abroad to study. I didn’t have the funds nor did I have the time to waste because I was too busy literally studying. As I was applying and sometimes interviewing for positions with different companies, an idea dawned on me. Not only was not being prepared for college detrimental to my “student life”, it was also detrimental to my post-graduation life. No one would hire me because I didn’t have a well rounded college experience nor did I have a degree that would allow me to do a specific job, like accounting.

I realized that the education an individual receives prior to college can have a huge impact on what their life in college and beyond is like. I ended up resorting to what I was doing to help me eat and live while in college, which was dental assisting and the pay sucked! In 2002 I was utterly sick of being a dental assistant. I had tried working my way up as a bank teller and as a recruiter’s assistant, but both jobs were unfulfilling nor interesting to me for that matter.

During the summer of 2003 I was reflecting about some of the volunteering experiences I had had abroad; one was in Honduras and the other in the Dominican Republic. Both revolved around teaching children. That’s when I had an epiphany; I remembered that when I started community college I wanted to teach English Literature at the college level, somewhere along the way I got distracted with my pursuit of becoming a dentist. It dawned on me that all of my volunteering experiences revolved around teaching children either about dental hygiene or English. This is when I decided to apply to be a bilingual teacher for the Austin Independent School District and in 2004 I got accepted to the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor for a Masters in Elementary Education. It was during that year that I realized how much more I could learn and grow after acquiring the skills to study as an undergrad.

Since 2003 I have worked as an inner-city bilingual educator. When I first started I thought I had a lot in common with my students, but as the years go by I realize we have less and less in common. The only common factor we have is the language we speak.

Through the combined experiences of my personal education as a Latina in the USA and the opportunities I have had as a teacher; I have gained an interest to advocate for learning additional languages in public and private school settings. I have also acknowledged that my expertise and strengths lie within research and advocacy rather than actually teaching in a classroom or teaching teachers. I think I am good at what I do as a bilingual reading specialist/writing coach at a local elementary school, but I believe research and advocacy come more naturally to me.

There are several research interests I have, all of which stem from interpretations of experiencing a “bilingual life,” but also from what I have observed amongst children who are learning an additional language. They include, but is certainly not limited to how the language an individual speaks can define the identity they perceive of themselves. I wonder how the identity they perceive of themselves plays out in the different facets of their lives. I also believe that most individuals who come from lower class upbringings have what I call a *language deficiency, especially if they speak something other than Standard American English. I wonder if having a language deficiency affects their pursuit of higher education, certain jobs, and social status. Lastly, as I delve into research and advocacy for bilingual/bicultural education I hope to develop a sense of clarity in my writing and in the manner in which I speak about my work. This is one of the reasons why I am an avid reader of books by authors like Jorge Ramos whom write about what they see.

**A language deficiency is when an individual has limited vocabulary and lacks the knowledge of proper pronunciation of words or use of phrases.