The literacy narrative was the first major assignment we had in the class. It consisted of two parts: the written narrative and the spoken narrative. When sharing our narratives in the class, it turns out a lot of us had very similar experiences with the English language, from learning it in school, to daily life, to expectations from parents, etc. As a result, it became less daunting to make mistakes in class and much easier to give each other feedback; after all, we all shared the common goal of improving our writing skills.

Here is the final written narrative.

As a child, I had no problem learning English, nor had a problem learning to read and write it. In fact, I enjoyed reading English; every week or two I’d go with my brother (who, on the other hand did not enjoy reading as much as I did) to the library to skim the aisles and check out a large stack of books to read. As it was the standard language in America it meant that there would never be a shortage of books to read, something I was happy about. While I can’t remember the first book I ever read, I do remember The Hunger Games being one of my favorite book series. 

Speaking English, however, was something that did not come easy to me. I’ve never been a good speaker; I don’t think I spoke more than a few words until first grade, and even then I didn’t speak often. I mean, it shouldn’t have been hard, right? All I had to do was take what I wrote or read and speak it out loud. But things are easier said than done. At home, the only thing I heard and listened to was the English of my parents. My dad’s first language was Bangla, but he never spoke it around me or my brother as our mom didn’t speak it, so there was no point (on the other hand, my two half-brothers do speak it, as their mom is Bengali as well, but barely understands English). My mother was born in Guyana, an English-speaking Caribbean country with “English” as the official language, but not the same English that is spoken in this country. It’s a dialect, and even has its own words, but would definitely be considered “broken” English in America. As a child I didn’t realize this English was considered its own language; I simply thought that it was “broken” English, and that the English taught at school was the “right” way of speaking. However, no matter how hard I tried I simply could not speak the “right” way. After all, when you’ve learned to speak English a certain way at home, and that is the only language you speak, correcting it turns out to be quite difficult. When I did speak “correctly”, it ended up sounding stiff, as I was simply parroting words written on a page; I did not know how to take those words and speak like I wasn’t reading off the page. As a result I preferred not to speak at all, although this isn’t the sole reason for me not speaking often. I also have a mild stutter and can’t speak well in general.  

I remember a moment sometime in third or fourth grade, when I was walking with a friend to school. We were talking and I ended up mispronouncing a word, which she then tried to correct and teach me how to say it properly. She wasn’t white; her family spoke Arabic and I assume that was her first language, but she also learned the same English I did at school, and spoke the “right” way as that was how it was taught. The word in question was “three”; I kept saying it like “tree”. She would say it the “right” way, then I would repeat in the “wrong” way, and we’d go back and forth laughing. However, what started as simple, funny banter turned into mild frustration when she realized I was being serious (and not jokingly mispronouncing it), and she eventually gave up. I felt kind of bad for being unable to say it the right way and chalked it up to me not being able to speak properly in general. However, I’ve realized since then that the reason I could not speak it was because of how I’ve always heard it at home. The “th” sound is rarely used; for instance, “dem” is said instead of “them”, “ting” is said instead of “thing”, and “three” is spoken as “tree”. My mom always said “tree” instead of “three” and I found myself subconsciously unable to say it properly because of that. I eventually learned to speak those words properly around middle school, but made the connection in high school. 

My elementary school was diverse; most students were POC. It was common to see students enrolled in ESL (I was not, as I could understand English fine). I knew that not everyone spoke English as a first language, so naturally they would struggle (after all, learning a new language is always hard). I concluded that I had no reason to struggle with speaking English, and that since my mother’s only language was English, she had no reason for her “broken” English as well. Like Amy Tan, I was embarrassed whenever she reverted to her English in public (which wasn’t often, she spoke “proper” English in public for the most part). Of course, I never spoke about this or showed this through my actions, I kept it internal. I’ve since realized that that was not a good thing to do, and have since accepted her English as my mother tongue. I also struggled with how/when to use the Englishes I know and with separating them. Since English is the only language I know, I can’t help but merge Standard English and my “home” English together. Amy Tan mentions being able to switch between the two depending on her audience, which makes sense as those who speak multiple languages have learned the ability to switch between them. In her eyes (and the eyes of those in her situation), Standard English and “broken” English are two different languages. I unfortunately have not learned this ability, and as a result feel guilty whenever I merge the two Englishes I speak, and not only in a professional setting. Whenever my family and I go to visit other family in Queens, I feel embarrassed and guilty as well because almost everyone speaks Caribbean English and I have next to no accent. I sometimes rarely also cannot understand what people are saying as I have grown used to Standard English, which invokes embarrassment as well. It almost makes me feel as if I don’t belong anywhere, as in a professional/educational setting my English isn’t proper enough, and in an ethic/social setting my English is too proper.