One of my favorite films of the past couple decades was "Spanglish", a 2004 comedy starring Adam Sandler, Tea Leoni and Amiee Garcia, which touches on the hilarious but often uncomfortable topic of knowing a little of one language and incorporating it into one's native language. In this case, Spanish and English, but why not Italian and Spanish? Itanish?
Well, I've been in London since October, having arrived two weeks late to start my
grad course at King's College. When I got here, I certainly knew what a lift (elevator) was, but I didn't know that nail polish is called nail varnish; that to sort means to sort out; that when one is asked, 'You all right?' here, it doesn't mean someone is worried we're about to pass out, but it's a standard greeting. When I got here, I was a bit worried about whether I'd understand my lecturers, whom I called professors back then - before I realized they are called
tutors - and whether I'd be understood as well. I asked if I could write my first semester essays in American English and was told a resounding yes.
Flash forward to now. I'm in the 11th hour on two of my end-of-term essays, one for philosophy and the other for a public history of science, technology and medicine course (both of which I loved, by the way). And a funny thing has happened. In reading through the opening paragraphs of my drafts I see the following: "Is keen to", "surname", even spellings with an s instead of a z which I have had to go back and correct to make them American English (i.e. specialization and not specialisation.) When I was Facetiming with Mom last night (still call her that and not Mum!), I was telling her about a TV show in which a fellow had put grilled shrimp and chilies on what he claimed was homemade Ciabatta, "for the starter."
"You mean the appetizer?" she asked.
"Yeah, the appetizer."
When the subject came up about my essays, and I told her I was actually having to correct some of the spellings to standardize them, she said: "I have noticed when you speak now that it's a blend. Maybe you should just stay there."
Well, that's a mom for you. She misses me, even though I lived in Virginia and
Connecticut and she in
Texas, and she's testing me. It's painful to see someone we love become something different. When my brother moved to Paris for a while I was envious that he learned French and also worried that he'd no longer be interested in talking to me. What could I, a San Franciscan who hadn't yet left America, have to share that would possibly interest him? I would eventually learn French and go to Paris and now we do have much to discuss -
oui, bien sur!
Back to the essays: I am tasked now with writing in American English, but I am confident that were I to stay here another couple of years, it would no longer be possible to comfortably do this. I am proud of where I come from, even if I am not proud of my president, and I do not desire to change...it's just that I am changing. No one seems to talk about this.
When people emigrate they don't just lose where they came from or immediately adopt a new identity, but they do evolve. Life and language are an evolution. American English and British English are rigid terms, whereas language is fluid.
So cheers, mate! I have work to do.
One of my favorite films of the past couple decades was "Spanglish", a 2004 comedy starring Adam Sandler, Tea Leoni and Amiee Garcia, which touches on the hilarious but often uncomfortable topic of knowing a little of one language and incorporating it into one's native language. In this case, Spanish and English, but why not Italian and Spanish? Itanish?
Well, I've been in London since October, having arrived two weeks late to start my grad course at King's College. When I got here, I certainly knew what a lift (elevator) was, but I didn't know that nail polish is called nail varnish; that to sort means to sort out; that when one is asked, 'You all right?' here, it doesn't mean someone is worried we're about to pass out, but it's a standard greeting. When I got here, I was a bit worried about whether I'd understand my lecturers, whom I called professors back then - before I realized they are called tutors - and whether I'd be understood as well. I asked if I could write my first semester essays in American English and was told a resounding yes.
Flash forward to now. I'm in the 11th hour on two of my end-of-term essays, one for philosophy and the other for a public history of science, technology and medicine course (both of which I loved, by the way). And a funny thing has happened. In reading through the opening paragraphs of my drafts I see the following: "Is keen to", "surname", even spellings with an s instead of a z which I have had to go back and correct to make them American English (i.e. specialization and not specialisation.) When I was Facetiming with Mom last night (still call her that and not Mum!), I was telling her about a TV show in which a fellow had put grilled shrimp and chilies on what he claimed was homemade Ciabatta, "for the starter."
"You mean the appetizer?" she asked.
"Yeah, the appetizer."
When the subject came up about my essays, and I told her I was actually having to correct some of the spellings to standardize them, she said: "I have noticed when you speak now that it's a blend. Maybe you should just stay there."
Well, that's a mom for you. She misses me, even though I lived in Virginia and Connecticut and she in Texas, and she's testing me. It's painful to see someone we love become something different. When my brother moved to Paris for a while I was envious that he learned French and also worried that he'd no longer be interested in talking to me. What could I, a San Franciscan who hadn't yet left America, have to share that would possibly interest him? I would eventually learn French and go to Paris and now we do have much to discuss - oui, bien sur!
Back to the essays: I am tasked now with writing in American English, but I am confident that were I to stay here another couple of years, it would no longer be possible to comfortably do this. I am proud of where I come from, even if I am not proud of my president, and I do not desire to change...it's just that I am changing. No one seems to talk about this.
When people emigrate they don't just lose where they came from or immediately adopt a new identity, but they do evolve. Life and language are an evolution. American English and British English are rigid terms, whereas language is fluid.
So cheers, mate! I have work to do.
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