Language, learning, identity, privilege
IthinkBy JAMES SORIANO
August 24, 2011, 4:06am
MANILA, Philippines — English is the language of learning. I’ve known this since before I could go to school. As a toddler, my first study materials were a set of flash cards that my mother used to teach me the English alphabet.
My mother made home conducive to learning English: all my storybooks and coloring books were in English, and so were the cartoons I watched and the music I listened to. She required me to speak English at home. She even hired tutors to help me learn to read and write in English.
In school I learned to think in English. We used English to learn about numbers, equations and variables. With it we learned about observation and inference, the moon and the stars, monsoons and photosynthesis. With it we learned about shapes and colors, about meter and rhythm. I learned about God in English, and I prayed to Him in English.
Filipino, on the other hand, was always the ‘other’ subject — almost a special subject like PE or Home Economics, except that it was graded the same way as Science, Math, Religion, and English. My classmates and I used to complain about Filipino all the time. Filipino was a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes.
We used to think learning Filipino was important because it was practical: Filipino was the language of the world outside the classroom. It was the language of the streets: it was how you spoke to the tindera when you went to the tindahan, what you used to tell your katulong that you had an utos, and how you texted manong when you needed “sundo na.”
These skills were required to survive in the outside world, because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world. If we wanted to communicate to these people — or otherwise avoid being mugged on the jeepney — we needed to learn Filipino.
That being said though, I was proud of my proficiency with the language. Filipino was the language I used to speak with my cousins and uncles and grandparents in the province, so I never had much trouble reciting.
It was the reading and writing that was tedious and difficult. I spoke Filipino, but only when I was in a different world like the streets or the province; it did not come naturally to me. English was more natural; I read, wrote and thought in English. And so, in much of the same way that I learned German later on, I learned Filipino in terms of English. In this way I survived Filipino in high school, albeit with too many sentences that had the preposition ‘ay.’
It was really only in university that I began to grasp Filipino in terms of language and not just dialect. Filipino was not merely a peculiar variety of language, derived and continuously borrowing from the English and Spanish alphabets; it was its own system, with its own grammar, semantics, sounds, even symbols.
But more significantly, it was its own way of reading, writing, and thinking. There are ideas and concepts unique to Filipino that can never be translated into another. Try translating bayanihan, tagay, kilig or diskarte.
Only recently have I begun to grasp Filipino as the language of identity: the language of emotion, experience, and even of learning. And with this comes the realization that I do, in fact, smell worse than a malansang isda.
My own language is foreign to me: I speak, think, read and write primarily in English. To borrow the terminology of Fr. Bulatao, I am a split-level Filipino.
But perhaps this is not so bad in a society of rotten beef and stinking fish. For while Filipino may be the language of identity, it is the language of the streets. It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned.
It is neither the language of the classroom and the laboratory, nor the language of the boardroom, the court room, or the operating room. It is not the language of privilege. I may be disconnected from my being Filipino, but with a tongue of privilege I will always have my connections.
So I have my education to thank for making English my mother language.
Ang nasaitaas ay ang artikulong sinulat ni James Soriano at nailathala sa Manila Bulletin noong Agosto 24, 2011.
Una kong nakita ang link na ibinahagi ng kaibigan ko sa kanyang Facebook Account. Sa mga naunang talata, isinalaysay ng may akda na mula pagkabata ay wikang Ingles na ang kanyang "opisyal" na lenguahe. Hindi ko na napigilan ang magtaas ng kilay habang patuloy ako sa aking pagbabasa dahil sa mga sumusunod na mga pangungusap: "For while Filipino may be the language of identity, it is the language of the streets. It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned."
Tama naman si Ginoong Soriano sa kanyang isinulat na tanda ng pagkakakilanlan ang wika. Katumbas ng pagkakaroon natin ng kalayaan ay ang pagkakaroon ng sarili nating pagkakakilanlan. Kasama ito sa mga ipinaglaban ng ating mga bayani. Hindi ka matatawag na Filipino kung hindi ka marunong magtagalog. Hindi ba't maging mga half-Filipinos, nagsusumikap din na matutuhan ang ating wika?
Pero, isnt it ironic na ngayong Agosto ay ating ipinagdiriwang ang buwan ng wika?
"It was the language of the streets: it was how you spoke to the tindera when you went to the tindahan, what you used to tell your katulong that you had an utos, and how you texted manong when you needed “sundo na.”
These skills were required to survive in the outside world, because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world. If we wanted to communicate to these people — or otherwise avoid being mugged on the jeepney — we needed to learn Filipino."
Oo nga naman, pano ka na naman magbabayad at hihingi ng sukli sa jeep ng nag-i-ingles? "Manong, where's the change for my P500?" Kung ako ang driver, baka nahagis na kita palabas ng jeep. Sandali lang, akala ko ba you have manong to text when you need sundo na? How come you ride a jeep?
Para sa aking nag-aral sa pampublikong paaralan mula sa elementarya hanggang kolehiyo, parehong binigyan ng importansiya ng aking mga guro ang matuto ng Filipino at Ingles.
May mga kaibigan naman din naman ako na hindi din ganoon ka fluent magsalita ng Filipino. Ngunit hindi naman naging haldlang iyon para hindi kami magkaintindihan. Komportable silang nakikipag-usap sa wikang Ingles at ako naman ay sa Filipino. Hindi ako naaartehan sa kanila dahil sa kanilang mal-conyong pagsasalita at hindi naman nila ako hinahamak dahil sanay ako sa salitang pang-kanto. Bagkus, pareho naming natutulungan ang isa't isa-- siya ay natututuhan ang wikang Filipino at ako naman ay nahahasa sa wikang Ingles.
Malimit ikwento ng mga conyo friends ko ang kanilang karanasan sa kanilang asignaturang Filipino. Mas nanaisin pa nilang mag compute ng mga komplikadong Math Problems kesa pagbasahin ng mga nobela ni Jose Rizal at Francisco Balagtas. Naging hell ang buhay nila nitong kolehiyo dahil sa 12 units namin sa Filipino. Pero ni minsan, hindi nila hinamak ng ganito ang wikang Filipino. Kahit nahihirapan sila, matiyaga pa rin nilang inaaral ito.
Isa lamang nag naisip ko pagkatapos kong basahin ang kanyang artikulo-- wala pala talaga akong alam dahil mas ginagamit ko ang sarili kong wika sa pang-araw-araw na pakikisakamuha sa mga tao. Sumusulat ako gamit ang wikang pilipino. Na sa dalawangpung taon ko ng pag-aaral at patuloy na pagkatuto ay nabaliwala lamang. Dahil ang wikang Filipino "It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned."
Malaking insulto ito sa ating educational system: ano nga ba talaga ang dapat gamitin sa pagtuturo sa mga paaralan-- Filipino o Ingles? Isa itong kalituhan sa mga batang pinipilit na magsalita sa wikang Ingles samantang salitang pang-kanto ang ginagamit ng kanyang mga kalaro. Mahaba-habang debate ito, kung ito ay pagtutuunan ng pansin ng mga kinauukulan.
Pero dahil iyon ang kanyang opinyon, kailangan pa rin natin iyong irespeto tulad ng kailangan din niyang irespeto ang ating opinyon na may halong galit sa kanyang isinulat. Isa na lamang ang masasabi ko...
At least hindi ako amoy malansa. =p
PS: Inalis ng Manila Bulletin Online ngayong araw na ito, August 26, 2011 ang artikulo sa kanilang website.
