My Agony in Learning English

Photo by Robin Higgins on Pixabay

I came home anxious after my first day as a 5th grader. I was hesitant to call my mom on the phone. I didn’t know how to tell her about what happened at school so I decided to just be blunt. Practicing what I had to say in my head, my heart was thumping. I waited for my mom to answer the phone. When she finally picked up, I nervously blurted out and told her, “Ma, we need to speak in English always. I can’t speak in Filipino.”

That moment was forever etched in my mind because it changed my life. But I was so scared about the implications of that turning point. I knew it was going to be awkward and I needed to adjust. It felt like I was going to become impaired because of the kind of restraint that I would be subjected to. But I thought I needed to do it. My grades were on the line.

When our 5th grade English teacher told us that we had to speak English always, even at home, I thought she must be kidding. In my mind, I was looking for some sort of compromise. I mean I couldn’t talk to my parents without using Filipino, it would be very difficult. But she wasn’t finished. She told us that we had to speak English at all times otherwise she would deduct every Filipino word from our grade. That killed me inside.

Now, that English teacher was the same one we had in 3rd grade. Though back then, she had to go on maternity leave so we had a substitute. I did remember that she said something about the same rule about speaking English always back then as well but I didn’t take it seriously. Plus the fact that she went on leave gave me relief.

But 5th grade was different. Not only was she our English teacher but she was also our homeroom adviser. There was no escape. Add the fact that she gave us a “Big Brother” like threat didn’t help our situation at all. I believed her when she said she had ways of knowing whether we spoke one sentence, one phrase, or even one word of Filipino.

So I took the bait. My heart sank. To a 10-year-old kid, that felt like the world was crashing down on me. My life would turn upside down. But I had to do it, for my grades. I consoled myself with the fact that it might not be that bad. I just had to get used to it.

Don’t get me wrong. That experience absolutely did me wonders. It opened up my horizons. I was able to discover and absorb new ideas a lot faster and a lot easier. Since I was exposed to the language and the different media that use it, it allowed me to familiarize myself not only with the language but with the culture as well.

I became more fluent in the language even to the point that I can think in English. It was like second nature to me. I didn’t have to translate Filipino sentences into English because I can come up with English sentences the way I do with Filipino. So I adopted a culture, a way of thinking, a different kind or manner of expression of my thoughts and feelings, and an identity. Not that I couldn’t speak, write, or understand English beforehand. But going through that experience added a new layer of understanding and depth to my speaking ability. It brought new opportunities for me.

For all the good it has done, I would be remiss to say that there were no drawbacks from that experience. I think practicing to speak English can do a lot of wonders for anyone especially since it’s a global medium of communication. But doing so at the expense of restricting one’s own native or mother tongue is a bit too much. I should mention we were also discouraged from watching Filipino shows and movies.

It was agonizing to say the least and a bit embarrassing as well especially when you try to interact with other people. I found myself losing touch as the years passed by. No, I did not forget how to speak my own language but interacting with others became difficult or even burdensome.

Even after I graduated, I still spoke straight English everywhere all the time. By the way, she was our English teacher in 6th grade as well. So I had to endure that for two straight years. It was a lot bearable the second time around but there was still so much pressure.

I felt that this type of negative reinforcement, though effective in achieving its goal for those willing to comply, is slightly harsh. I was effectively traumatized and emotionally scarred. Especially since this method took advantage of my grade-conscious self. I had to endure this kind of immersion through pressure. I’m glad I was able to become fluent in reading, writing, and speaking the language. But I felt that the process was not enjoyable.

Why am I telling this story? I’ve never really tried to process that experience in its entirety. Only recently did I realize the full extent of its effect on my life. It feels as though a rift was created within those two years of immersion and I’m only now trying to pick up the pieces from where I left off. It was a time when I started to have a solid formation of my identity but at the same time, it sort of isolated me. So in that sense, I may have had different crises throughout my adolescence period as a repercussion.

Also, I’ve had this desire to learn other languages like French, German, and Japanese among others. Looking at how I became fluent in English, I’m trying to apply certain methods of immersion without the heavy-handed consequences. I want to learn for fun and for the sake of it. At the same time, I want to acquire and develop these languages alongside my own, without having to isolate my identity in order to assimilate them.