Dear Mrs. Rodriguez,
Good day Miss! I hope that you are in the best of health given the current global situation which is quite scary. I always find it ironic that you were one of the last persons that I spoke to at school before it was suspended. Although we were never able to finish our then discussion about the state of the school, I am writing this email to talk about something arguably more culturally important. You were my English teacher for many years and out of all the teachers at our school, you are certainly the most qualified to teach a subject such as English. This is not due to your prior experience as a principal for 27 years but comes down to your experience with multiple vernaculars. Unlike most teachers in Trinidad and Tobago who only use the Standard English and the Trini dialect, you are in a unique position of speaking an indigenous language of Guyana. You never told your classes what the language was called, but having started my studies at university, I have become very intrigued by it.
You see, I was one of the many students that initially laughed at you when you told your language stories. As you told the dynamics of your vernacular language, the thought of you “speaking to trees and being able to converse with the rivers” was quite outlandish.
“My language is one of discipline. While I lived in the forests of Guyana, not listening and paying attention could lead to loss of life,” You told us.
“Yuh hearing what she saying?” I asked one of my classmates. “She could speak to de trees.”
“What she know bout English?” He replied as we hid our laughter along with the rest of the class.
I didn’t know better back then. To be quite honest, I thought that my Trini dialect was just “drain slang” as some elders would call it. It was only until I started my Caribbean Studies course for Upper 6, did I truly realize the differences between standard English and the Trini dialect and the importance of each. Here I was laughing at you, and I didn’t even know my own language. If I “coulda go back in de past,” I wish I would’ve been mature enough to understand your teachings and engage with you more on your language and its properties.
You always saw the potential for understanding language in me. I remember you would say, “You have the potential to be a brilliant student Joel, but yuh too dam lazy and led astray by dem boy an dem!” How you were so right in every way. I am very proud to state that I am beginning to utilize some of your attitudes to language that you have taught me in the past. One of the most impressive tools that you possess is code-switching. Most Trinis do this without realizing but you and I do it because we know when it is appropriate. Currently, I tend to use a lot of standard English in my university classes but when I am among my Trini friends in New York, “Ah go be talking de dialect.” You always spoke to us in standard English when teaching but buffed (shouting with the intent to discipline) us in Trini dialect. Not to mention that neither of those are your first language! I cannot begin to imagine what you must have gone through in post-colonial Guyana to have to forcibly learn standard English and the Trini dialect to begin teaching. I am already having problems with speaking dialect in the U.S as an admissions counselor could not understand what I was saying when using the Trini dialect.
“Yuh university does have programs fuh management?” I asked him, completely forgetting to code-switch.
“I’m sorry. What was that?” he asked, with the most confused look ever.
I put it down to him not hearing the Trini dialect used before so I decided to use it once more.
“Does yuh university have management programs?”
“Sir I don’t understand what you’re saying. Could it be your internet connection?”
Finally, I gave up. “Does your university offer any programs in business management?”
“Ahh yes Sir. We do,” And he went rambling on.
At first, I was disappointed and honestly, scared that I could potentially be forced to give up my Trini dialect to fully speak the standard English but after reading about persons such as Robin Kimmerer and remembering you, I realized that it is a privilege to speak another vernacular and it is they who are naive and beneath me for being stuck in their stubborn ways of wanting only one “standard English.”
Lastly, before we continue our quarantine period without conversing with each other on the dangers of incorrectly analyzing “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee and the many important lines that we could use to better our lives, I want to fulfill a request you had for me many years ago. I was talking in your class while you were teaching and you called me out.
“You is ah rel wetman eh?” I asked jokingly to my friend. “Give de gyal dem a break nah.”
“Joel! You and this boy againnn? What was it yuh was talking bout this time?” you had asked.
“I was telling him that he issa wetman Miss,” I hurriedly replied to avoid punishment.
“Dear Joel, what on earth is a wetman?”
Laughter erupted in the classroom at the teacher’s lack of knowledge on the topic.
While I never intended to embarrass you in front of the class, I do have an explanation for why you did not know what this word meant. The Trinidadian dialect is dynamic, as it changes with the generation that wields it. For example, my generation creates new words almost everyday that get added to our vocabulary, such as wetman (a male who talks to or has relations with many girls).
And even the word wet, which is usually used to express the effects of water, also means the measurement of a boy’s interactions with girls.
Yes, it sounds silly and sometimes can be degrading but this is an example of the dynamism of the language which makes it unique. All Trinis can converse using our dialect, yet younger generations have their own slang and older generations have theirs. It’s simply amazing.
I don’t want to take up too much more of your time but I will end with this quote from Atticus Finch from your favorite book, “To Kill a Mockingbird.” I do believe that this quote can be attributed to language and everyone’s experience with it.
From my now mastery of code-switching to your patience and perseverance to learn multiple vernaculars to persons who unknowingly continue to place standard English on a pedestal that it shouldn’t be, we all have our stories to tell about this topic. As Atticus Finch once said however, “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view . . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
Your student,
Joel Stephen
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