L&L Written Narrative
I was born into a home where we spoke Spanish. I went to school to learn English. My elementary school where I learned English was just down the street from me. We would walk straight down and there I would be with my brothers and sister, mostly with one of my brothers though, since he was just 2 years older than me. From Pre-K to 5th grade, we were in that school where we learned how to write, read, and speak. We were lucky enough to have been able to learn in both English and Spanish. I had bilingual teachers from Pre-k to 2nd so one day we would have class in English and the next day we would have it in Spanish. From 3rd to 5th the class was taught in pure English, the only reason they would speak Spanish is if it was parent teacher conference or when the teachers spoke to the secretaries or other teachers. I remember all my teachers especially my kindergarten teacher, how happy I would be to be in school learning every day and reading every day. The big red double doors led to the cafeteria along with a long wide hallway where I could find my class and teacher lined up. Ms. Taveras, my teacher was tall with medium length black straight hair, she wore a light pink lipstick every day, greeted everyone with a smile. Being in her class (and having my family), I understood the importance of speaking both languages and love being able to use both. I feel comfortable with my languages and love the fact that I can communicate in Spanish and English, but at times I do struggle to balance both languages and tend to mix them.
At home, we speak both languages but mostly speak in Spanish to talk with our parents. I speak to my siblings in English, and we text in English. With my parents, we speak and text in Spanish but at times, I can’t remember words in Spanish and tend to mix my English with my Spanish. Now that I think about it, I like to say that in my house, we speak Spanglish. When I talk to my parents about my day I stumble and forget words. On Thursday afternoon when I got back home, I put my bag away in my room, took off my shoes and put on my sandals and walked to the living room to see a short dark brown-haired woman with light brown eyes, wearing light eyeliner, light blue jeans with a white t-shirt and sandals waiting for me to sit down with her on the couch. This woman is of course my mom. Mom: “Que hicistes hoy areli?” Me: “Hoy teniean una feria de clubs, Y yo me um, signed up por uno” Mom: “Oh que bueno, Y de que es el club? You like or no?” Me:“Si si me gusto mucho, es un club de arte. Its on Tuesdays durante mi break cuando no tengo clases” Mom: “Ay que bueno, eso si te gusta mucho” Me: “Si me gusto mucho y voy estar con mis amigas tambien”.
The feeling of frustration started to come over me, I felt as if I hadn’t gone to a bilingual school, I was struggling to talk with my own mom in her own language. Why couldn’t I perfect Spanish? I spent 4 years in school being able to speak Spanish, why am I still struggling. I love taking with my mom, dad, and other family members, but when I stumble on my words, I can’t help but beat myself down for it. I think more about conversations I’ve had with my family especially with my mom, we have always spoken in Spanglish, and she also tends to throw in English words to make me feel comfortable. I felt the most frustrated with myself because I felt that since I knew both languages, I shouldn’t be struggling speaking to them both fluently, additionally Spanglish is not respected very well and seen as a bad manner. This would also explain why I was not so welcoming of Spanglish; I didn’t want to be seen in a bad light by other family members. I soon realized though, that I shouldn’t feel frustrated speaking my language. As I am writing this narrative, I start to realize that this truly is MY language. Spanglish is part of me, and as long as my family can understand me that’s okay with me.
