Whose class are you in?

Carolyn Cooper, Contributor

Quite a few years ago, I was invited to give a talk at a primary school during Heritage Week. Since we were supposed to be celebrating Jamaican culture, I decided to address the children in our mother tongue.

Bright faces shining, they listened with complete attention. Afterwards, some of them wist-fully asked, "Miss, when yu coming back?" This was probably the first time an adult had ever addressed them formally at school in their home language.

Over refreshments, the principal confessed that she'd always won-dered why it was appropriate to use 'patwa' in the classroom only for literature - like the poems of Miss Lou - but not for any other subject.

And she related a disturbing incident. She'd seen a little boy running in the schoolyard between classes and stopped him to ask, "Whose class are you in?" He replied, "Eeeh, Miss?" She repeated her question and the child repeated his answer.

The principal even rebuked the child for saying 'eeeh'. That's one of those nasal interjections in the Jamaican language that is used to express confusion. Eventually, she 'catch up herself' and asked the boy, "Who a yu teacher?" The child immediately gave his teacher's name.

The boy knew his teacher. What he didn't know was English. I speculate that if the principal had said 'who fa,' instead of 'whose,' the child would probably have understood the mixture of English and Jamaican.

no 'mighty'

That story reminded me of one of my friends who, on a visit home from the United States, went to one of our hospitals looking for a colleague. He asked the security guard for Dr X and was told that he wasn't around. He then asked, 'And where might he be?' To which the security guard replied, "Mi no know nobody name Mighty, sah."

At a reception at a local hotel, I once foolishly asked a waitress, "Any prospect of edibles?" Her response put me firmly in my place: "I don't understand one word yu just seh." Without any hint of embarrassment, this self-confident young woman made it quite clear that I was the one who had failed to communicate with her.

'Mi shame like a dog.' The bookish question had just slipped out. I quickly rephrased it in straightforward English and the young woman assured me that "yes, food coming." In this instance, it wasn't a question of English versus Jamaican. It was plain English versus a completely inappropriate, 'highfalutin' register.

Speakers of English in Jamaica casually assume that they will be universally understood - even when they use expressions that are not at all common. In my case and my friend's, the initial failure of communication didn't really matter that much. We could easily sort out the problem.

But for that little boy in the schoolyard, continuous miscommunication will, ultimately, determine whether or not he becomes eligible for tertiary education. Exactly what will this child ever learn in the classroom if his constant response to his teachers, as early as primary school, is a dumbfounded 'eeeh Miss?'

And most of his teachers will be female. This fact raises the unsettling matter of the relatively small number of male role models in our primary and secondary schools. But that's a whole other story.

Language education in Jamaican schools is a matter that must be given urgent attention. We simply cannot afford to continue with business as usual. We need to find new ways of teaching English so that our success rate will be much higher than it is now. And we must ensure that all students learn to distinguish between English and Jamaican.

The difficulty some of us have recognising the differences between the two languages was beautifully illustrated on an eye-opening episode of the Ity & Fancy Cat Show. People on the street were asked to translate a few Jamaican sentences into English. Not one person was able to give an accurate translation.

They all seem to think that if you're 'speaky-spoky' and you 'round up yu mouth', that's English. Pronunciation, not the structure of the languages, is all that matters. And whose fault is it that they don't know better? The school-system has failed them in both senses of the word.

Power and privilege

'Whose class are you in?' For me, the principal's question is not just about a little boy running loose in the schoolyard. Symbolically, it's a much broader philosophical enquiry about which social class each of us claims. The question raises the contentious issue of social power and privilege in our society.

Many Jamaicans in the class of 'English speakers' tend to have great disdain for those in the class of 'non-English speakers' - those underprivileged souls who routinely speak 'patwa'. In fact, 'English speakers' don't even think that Jamaican is a language in its own right. It's a corrupt negation of English. And, of course, if you don't speak a bona fide language, you're clearly sub-human.

Miss Lou sets the record straight in Jamaica Language which is published in Aunty Roachy Seh, a collection of her radio programmes edited by Professor Mervyn Morris:

"Jamaica Dialec did start when we English forefahders did start mus-an-boun we African ancestors fi stop talk fi-dem African Language altogedder an learn fi talk so-so English, because we English forefahders couldn understan what we African ancestors-dem wasa seh to dem one anodder when dem wasa talk eena dem African language dem to dem one anodder!

"But we African ancestors dem pop we English forefahders-dem. Yes! Pop dem an disguise up de English Language fi projec fi-dem African Language in such a way dat we English forefahders-dem still couldn understan what we African ancestors-dem wasa talk bout when dem wasa talk to dem one anodder!"

Carolyn Cooper, PhD, is a teacher of English and an advocate of Jamaican language rights. Visit her bilingual blog, Jamaica Woman Tongue, at carolynjoycooper.wordpress.com. Feedback may be sent to columns@gleanerjm.com.