“English was no longer a perk; it had become an imperative” (11). When I read this sentence, I think of the six weeks I spent teaching this summer. I’ve never taught ESL before, but there I was in Andover, Mass, teaching 13-17 yr olds English. The first day of classes is one I won’t soon forget: as my students introduced themselves, I felt so excited for all the cultural experiences I was hearing about. And while I still look back to this experience with so much happiness, I can’t help but see the statement of English as an “imperative” in unflattering ways.
I remember meeting Lea, a Korean student who spoke English better than most native speakers I know. At just 13 years old, Lea knows Korean, Spanish, French, and English (and I’m quite sure there is one more language that I’m forgetting). Lea came here for the summer to be immersed in English for the summer since she spends her year studying in Barcelona where her classes are mostly in Spanish (though some in English). She has left her parents and grandparents in Korea for the past year and a half to go to a “better school,” which she will attend for the next 4 years as well through high school.
Phil, a 15 year old from Thailand, studies in New Zealand so he will learn English. He, too, expects to spend his entire high school career in another country.
And, Julian, a 15 yr old from Germany, studies English in hopes of becoming a “businessman.”
These three students were just a few of the many. But, in the case of Lea and Phil, it is extremely common for most of the students I taught to leave home at an early age to go learn another language. As each of these students expressed their reasoning for going to another country or learning another language, their rhetoric revolved around necessity, not choice: “the school is better,” “I need to learn English to succeed in the business world,” “My parents said learning English will be important.” Granted, Lea goes to a Spanish-speaking school, but the concept was still the same; her parents sent her there for a “better education” than any she could get in South Korea. These students make me see the reality of Prendergast’s book—how language (and most notably English) is treated as a form of “currency.” And it’s a currency that not everyone can obtain. Not everyone can send their child to an English speaking school.
When I read P’s book, I can’t help but think about what these students are getting out of leaving their homes. After interacting with these students, they did seem to think that learning English promised them something better—whatever that may be. They think that English affords opportunities—and maybe it does. On the one hand, these students are able to participate in various discourses thanks to their language skills. They have gained friends from around the world. And they possibly will have a better chance of getting a job or having a better chance at acceptance to universities than if they hadn’t learned English. But I can’t help but worry about what the future holds. Phil and Julian surely have a strong command of verbal English, but their writing isn’t very strong. And Lea certainly has a very strong command of both verbal and written English, but at what cost? For them to “buy into English (or Spanish and English in Lea’s case),” they are spending integral parts of their childhood on different continents than their family!
I guess my reason for writing this post is because my initial reaction specifically to Phil and Lea and Julian was amazement. These kids, 7+ years younger than myself, seem to have accomplished more than I could imagine. I was proud of them and I was also slightly envious of their experiences. But, after reading P and Canagarajah, I start to question the envy that I had. My center education and my native knowledge of English have afforded me a position of privilege that I think I still don’t fully realize.
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