Building a New Public Idea about Language
Mary Louise Pratt
The author is President, Modern Language Association (2003), and
Silver Professor of Spanish and Portuguese and Professor of Comparative
Literature at New York University. This essay is based on her presentation at
ADFL Summer Seminar West, California State University, Long
Beach, 20-22 June 2002.
IT WAS a fancy California wedding
party at a big Bay Area hotel. The groom's family spoke Urdu, and the bride's
spoke Gujarati and Urdu. Both were practicing Muslims, but she was from
southern California,
sometimes regarded by northerners as too laid-back. The groom was attended by
his two best friends from high school, one of Mexican-Jewish-Anglo parentage
and the other of Chinese and Japanese descent via Hawai'i and Sacramento. The
groom's younger sister was master of ceremonies. During a long program of
toasts and tributes, English was the lingua franca, with a few departures for
jokes or tears (it was the fathers who wept). Two poets performed. One, an
elder known for his verbal skill and love of literature, recited a long
celebratory poem in Urdu that deeply moved many of the adults. The other was
a friend of the newlyweds, a young man of Syrian and Anglo-American parents.
He performed in English a long lively poem, also composed for the occasion
and rooted in contemporary hip-hop. The Mexican-Jewish-Anglo best man brought
down the house with a bilingual Urdu-English joke a youngster had told him. I
marveled yet again at the gorgeous, strenuous creativity of our
transculturated young. At the same time I mourned the fact that the younger
poet, a lover of literature who taught English at a community college, would
probably never have a chance to study the elder's poetic tradition or that of
his own Syrian parent.
What's wrong with this linguistic picture? More than meets the eye.
Even the Urdu-speaking young at the wedding did not understand the formal
language of the elder's poem. Yet Urdu, as the groom's generation loses it,
turns up on the government's list of critical languages of which educated
bilingual speakers are urgently needed. Urdu was the groom's first language,
but he had never had the chance to learn to read or write it or develop adult
competence in speaking. Like most observant Muslims, he longed to learn
Arabic to read the Koran in the original. Months later he quit his job to
take an intensive summer course. Opportunities for summers in Latin
America and family connections in Mexico had
enabled the first best man to achieve an impressive fluency in Spanish. But
just as he entered the federal Teach for America program,
California's
Proposition 227 forbade him to use it in his predominantly Spanish-speaking California
classroom. The second best man, determined to explore his roots, had just
returned from three years of teaching English in China, where
he had gradually managed to acquire enough Mandarin to get around. All three
young men's lives had produced strong incentives for them to learn and use
other languages. But they were almost entirely on their own. Not even the
affluent California suburb
where they grew up, with family resources, safe streets, and good schools,
had offered them opportunities or encouragement to develop their abilities in
languages other than English. And these are the privileged among us.
Such
stories are familiar to language professionals in contemporary North
America. They're what give the United
States its well-earned nickname of cementerio
de lenguas, a language cemetery. Yet accelerated migration and the shock
of 9/"11 have opened to question the hundred-year American love affair
with monolingualism. We're even joking about it now: "What do you call a
person who knows three languages? 'Trilingual.' What do you call a person who
knows two languages? 'Bilingual.' What
do you call a person who knows only one language? 'An American.' Transformed
internally since 1980 by the largest immigration in its history, the country
is rediscovering the pleasures and pains of living multilingually; Spanish is
becoming a de facto second language; people are learning to work in contact
with multiple languages in every aspect of daily life. Externally September
11th revealed a country linguistically unequipped to apprehend its
geopolitical situation, incapable of preventing or anticipating crises and of
responding adequately when they came. The lived reality of multilingualism
and the imperatives of global relations both fly in the face of
monolingualist language policies, while those policies inflict needless
social and psychic violence on vulnerable populations.
So far, the most tangible sign of change has been an understandable
rush to fund new security-related language programs and centers, sometimes at
the expense of established programs]. But perhaps today's dramatic circumstances
offer a broader opening for a new public idea about language, language
learning, multilingualism, and citizenship. If scholars and teachers of
language are able to seize this opening, they will make themselves heard as
advocates not for particular languages but for the importance of knowing
languages and of knowing the world through languages. Speaking as people who
have had the opportunity to learn languages well, who made the effort and
reap the rewards, scholars of non-English languages and cultures are uniquely
situated to bear witness to the possibilities of language learning and to
make the case for language learning as an aspect of educated citizenship. I
believe we need to make that case in as many ways as possible, right now.
Language education is far too big an issue to be contained by national
security concerns alone. If a new public idea is vigorously asserted, it can
generate resources that will help make its promise a reality.
What might a new public idea about language look like? Reflecting on
this question, I've come up with four misconceptions to expose and four
concepts to propose.
Misconceptions
Misconception 1: Immigrants and their children do not want to retain
their languages of origin. As a general claim, this is
false (see Krashen, esp. ch.5). Immigrant families are often willing to give
up their languages of origin if they feel that retaining the language will
harm their children's chances for success, or keep them from fitting in, or
if they are told, as they often are, that bilingualism is a handicap. But the
loss is usually experienced as serious and painful by both old and young. The
interruption in generational relationships especially between grandparents
and grandchildren is one of the greatest costs, socially and psychically.
Often when they reach their late teens, young people seek to reconnect with
their first language and its culture. Parents who do try to develop their
languages of origin in their children often find this difficult to do, in the
absence of social support for their efforts.
The
opposite, and equally false argument is also made at times, that immigrants
and their children do not want to learn English and must be compelled to do
so. This widespread belief is disproved by every survey done on the subject.
Families whose first language is not English consistently report that, given
a real choice, their preference for their children would be bilingualism.1 The problem immigrants
complain of most often is the lack of opportunities to learn English. This is the single biggest obstacle many
immigrants face.
Misconception 2: Americans are hostile to multilingualism.
Antagonism to multilingualism is not new in the United States. In the 1930s
child-rearing manuals in the United States were telling parents that
bilingualism was harmful to their children's psychological development.
Nevertheless I think what exists overall in the United States is ambivalence
rather than simple hostility. This ambivalence was brought home to me
recently by an airport van driver who picked me up in California. As I
snapped on my seat belt, he asked where I was going. "Japan," I
said. He blurted a lengthy greeting in Japanese. "How do you know
that?" I asked, surprised to hear the language flow out of a middle-aged
Anglo-American. He told me he tried to learn phrases in as many languages as
he could. He loved languages, loved the linguistic diversity of California.
Nothing delighted him more, he said, than walking the streets of San
Francisco and hearing the Tower of Babel. I asked him where he lived.
"Redwood City," he told me. "My wife is from Mexico."
"Oh, have your kids learned Spanish?" I asked. "Well, she
speaks it to them at home." "And what about you?" I said.
"No," he replied. "To tell you the truth, I am one of the ones
who thinks they have to learn English." "Oh," I said, stunned.
"But didn't you ever want to be able to communicate with your
in-laws?" A long silence followed. I don't know what was going through
the driver's mind, but I recalled a conversation I had overheard in a gas
station in western Mexico. Two middle-aged men were sitting on a bench, and
one was weeping. His son, who had immigrated to the United States to work,
had brought home his new wife, a young woman from Minnesota with whom he
seemed very happy but who spoke only English. The father's anguished question was, "¿Y cómo
nos vamos a querer si no podemos conversar?" ("How
are we going to love each other if we can't talk?"). Language was
breaking the web of continuity that gave meaning to his life.
I suspect the taxi driver's ambivalence about multilingualism is
shared by many Americans. The problem is that only one side of the
ambivalence, the English-only side, has been mobilized and exploited
politically. It's time to mobilize the other side. One way I attempt to do
this in public settings is to poll my audiences for their linguistic history.
How many people here, I ask, grew up speaking a language other than English?
How many are married to someone who did? How many people had a parent who
spoke a language other than English? a grandparent? By the time you get to
grandparents, usually a significant proportion of the audience has a hand in
the air.2 Then you can begin to reflect on this history and on the
differences between immigration today, where contact with the home country
remains intense, and immigration before 1940, when immigration was seen as a
permanent break. In the 2000 census, preliminary figures show that between
forty-five and fifty million people indicated they spoke a language other than
English at home ("Age").
Misconception 3: Second-language learning has to start in early
childhood, or we might as well throw up our hands. This idea often
appears as an excuse for throwing up our hands or more likely for explaining
why they were up in the air to begin with. After several conversations in
Washington I am convinced that this myth is the single most potent factor
preventing a serious public investment in language education. Yet the reality
of language learning is so much more complex. There are aspects of language
learning adults are better at because they know their native language well,
can recognize cognates, are literate and skilled at pattern recognition, and
can do intensive work. There are other things, like sound imitation, that often
come easier to the young. But the idea that language learning is easy for the
young is also misleading. It takes enormous resources to develop children's
competence in their native language, and children have to work hard at
it. The same is true of second
languages.
No group
has more standing than the scholarly community to belie the "primary
school or never" myth; we are its living, breathing counterexamples. In North
America most native English speakers who became scholars of non-English
languages and cultures began to study those languages in their teens or
twenties. Many of us learn new languages to do research. We are evidence that
while it may never be too early to start language learning, it is also never
too late. "Never too early, never too late" needs to be a prominent
theme in the new public idea about language. [It is true that our failure to
teach languages at an early age is detrimental to society as a whole; it is
also true that motivated and capable language learners] can turn up at any
point in the education system, and when they do, there should be
opportunities and incentives for them to learn.
Misconception 4: The primary public need for language expertise is
national security (see, e.g., Baron; Simon). The stakes go far beyond
security, as the national security agencies readily agree.3 Within its own
borders the United States needs professionals and service people of all kinds
who can operate in locally spoken languages. A few months ago, for example,
two southern California primary school teachers told me of their frustration
when a flagship Japanese program was set up in their school district, while
an acute need for Tagalog-speaking nurses, doctors, lawyers, teachers, social
workers, even tax preparers went unmet. There was no pipeline to track local
Tagalog speakers into these professions and enable them to develop their
Tagalog. The city of Oakland recently declared Spanish and Chinese second
official languages in which all public services would be made available
(Pementel and Burress). What educational pipelines are producing the
bilingual personnel to make good on that commitment?
In its external relations North America needs scholars, area experts,
diplomats, negotiators, businesspeople, and public servants with the ability
to communicate at an advanced level in the languages and cultures of the
populations with whom they work. These are the people who, on many fronts,
maintain ongoing relationships of all kinds across the world, whether or not
the languages they speak are considered "critical" at the moment. Their work prevents "critical" situations
from arising and provides deep, longterm knowledge when they do. By the time
a language has become a national security imperative, in a way it's already
too late: the other has already been defined as an enemy; the failures of
communication and understanding have already done their damage. And if there
are no experts who know the language, it's too late to create them now. The
groom at the wedding hated the thought of people studying Urdu for
counterterrorism. Language learning based on fear, he thought, was worse than
none at all. Some of my colleagues were encouraged by a TV ad that appeared
during the World Series depicting the familiar patriarch roaring, "Uncle
Sam wants you to learn a foreign language." I cringed at the narrow
association of language learning with military conscription.
It is critical that there be multiple pipelines to advanced language
competence and critical that linguistic others not be defined from the start
as potential enemies. A new public idea about language has to make a
different case. Developed communicative relationships help prevent national
security issues from arising.
Concepts to Propose
Proposal 1: Monolingualism should be shown to be a handicap. The
cognitive benefits of second-language learning are well known, and every
child should have access to them. Children with a strong knowledge of two
languages (any two) score higher in every kind of cognitive testing than
monolingual children (see Cooper; Olsen and Brown). Ah, we hear, but the rest
of the world now speaks English. The emergence of English as a global lingua
franca does not mean the world is increasingly English-speaking, as
English-speaking is usually understood by Americans. It means more and more
people are acquiring competence in English for use in contexts of work or
study. Being monolingual in English
remains a sure recipe for crippling one's ability to interact with speakers
of other languages in all but the most limited and scripted ways.
Proposal 2: Local heritage communities must be engaged. Probably
nothing has greater potential for revitalizing and revalorizing the study of
languages than the multilingualism that exists among us at this moment. It is
a massive resource that we foolishly resist capitalizing on. Today students
entering the school system who speak languages other than English are
identified by the Department of Education as LEPs, meaning those of limited
English proficiency even when they may speak English perfectly well. Let us
define LEPs instead as linguistically endowed persons, whose knowledge of
other languages is a resource for themselves and others. It makes sense to capitalize on our
multilingual primary schools and playgrounds, where they exist, to give all
children the experience of learning and using more than one language.
These communities should also be sources of scholars, diplomats,
international professionals of all kinds. Why shouldn't Sacramento, with some
75,000 Russian speakers, be the crucible of the next generation of
Slavicists? Why shouldn't the 100,000 Vietnamese speakers in Texas make that
state the place for a bilingual research nucleus in Vietnamese studies? Why
shouldn't Dearborn, Michigan, with some 50,000 native speakers of Arabic, be
a crucible for a new pool of Middle East scholars and diplomats?4 In higher
education, involvement with local language communities is a good way to
develop a public commitment to language education.
Proposal 3: Advanced competence is a key educational goal. No one
is better prepared to identify this goal than scholars who have gone through
the long, focused training required to achieve a broad and deep oral or
literate knowledge of multiple languages. There are many kinds and degrees of
language competence, and all have benefits. Knowing a language well enough to
get by in the day-to-day is very different from knowing a language well
enough to read sophisticated texts, write, develop adult relationships,
exercise one's profession, move effectively in a range of contexts, and adapt
quickly to new situations. Though everyone knows these differences exist, the
current public idea of language has no way of talking about them just as it
has no way of talking about the many kinds of language learning. Advanced
competence requires a large investment of time and money for intensive work
and study abroad. This is as true for heritage speakers as it is for
nonnatives. The idea that language learning just comes naturally obscures the
roles long-term training and experience abroad play in the development of
advanced language abilities, whether in first languages or added ones.5
One of the criteria that define advanced competence is the ability to
use a language effectively in complex settings beyond the construction of
grammatical utterances. Questions are a good example, not least because they
lie at the heart of the geopolitics of language interaction. Knowing how to
construct a grammatical interrogative in a language is a far cry indeed from
knowing how to elicit information effectively in that language. A political
scientist once told me of an asylum hearing where a judge was asking arriving
refugees whether they were afraid to return to El Salvador. To the judge's
surprise the reply was usually no, even when it was known that returning
meant certain death. The judge, it turned out, was asking the wrong question.
For the asylum seekers, to acknowledge fear was to display cowardice and
increase one's vulnerability. When the judge began asking instead, "What
will happen to you if you return?," the critical information could
emerge.
Advanced competence involves the ability to conduct mature human
relationships in the language. Whether these relationships are social,
professional, or strategic, they involve knowledge far beyond the
grammatical. Such knowledge can be acquired at any stage of life, but it
takes time, work, and instruction. Identifying advanced competence as a
specific educational goal helps explain why language-including one's native
language-has to be taught with as much effort and seriousness as mathematics
or music. The burgeoning demand for applied linguists suggests a recognition
of this fact. The public idea of language needs to catch up.
Proposal 4: We need language pipelines. Our
communities and educational systems need to develop pipelines that identify
gifted and motivated language learners, offer them opportunities to develop
their abilities, and track them into programs of study that will make use of
their languages. With relatively little new infrastructure, American high
schools can become the beginning of a pipeline to advanced language study
linked to cultural, scholarly, and professional expertise. Scholarships are
the key, and intensive instruction and experience abroad are the means. What
if secondary school teachers could nominate their strong language students
for enrichment programs like summer intensive courses, study abroad, work in
additional languages? Colleges and universities could provide those programs.
They could also identify language achievements as high-status criteria for
admission and scholarships. Such opportunities would give families an
incentive to encourage their young to learn new languages or retain and
develop the ones they have. In colleges and universities gifted, motivated
language students would continue to be identified and encouraged to develop
advanced capabilities or to add new languages. They would be directed toward
majors, courses, honors projects that involve their linguistic abilities.
Advanced training would continue in the form of tutorials, intensive courses,
study and research opportunities abroad, consortial arrangements among
institutions. Career paths requiring language skills would be identified.
Undergraduate programs could be pipelines to a set of scholarship-funded
two-year MA programs in key language and area specialties. These MA programs
would combine advanced language study, including intensive work and study
abroad, with graduate study in a discipline or on a career path, be it literary
or cultural study, medicine, education, international relations, history,
anthropology, sociology, political science, life sciences, linguistics, or
area studies. At the postgraduate and professional levels, the language
pipeline could fund scholars to acquire new language expertise needed for
their work-American studies professors, for instance, who want to branch into
hemispheric studies and need to learn other languages of the Americas to do
so; or international relations scholars who need to read Korean; or
Hispanists who want to learn Catalan, Quechua, or Arabic. Language
acquisition could be rewarded in the granting of promotions and raises.
Let
me sum up the eight points I've made, converting the negative ones into
positive statements:
1.
All things being equal, bilingual families usually
prefer to stay bilingual. Immigrant families do not simply want to
lose their home languages, and they do want to learn English.
2. Americans are not hostile to
multilingualism; they are ambivalent, both proud of their multilingual
history and committed to English as the lingua franca. We need a public idea
that mobilizes that pride.
3. It's never too early and never too late
to learn a language. Second-language learning does not have to begin in early
childhood.
4. National security concerns define our
language needs too narrowly. We need knowledge and interaction of all kinds,
and these will make national security crises less likely to arise.
5. Monolingualism is a handicap. No child
should be left behind.
6. Local heritage communities must be
engaged by our language programs.
7. Advanced competence is a key educational
goal.
8. We need linguistic pipelines at every
level.
To
whom might we take these ideas? How does one go about creating a new public
idea? As our professional gatherings affirm time and again, we are full of
ideas. One of the most valuable steps is to translate them into grant
applications and new relationships in communities and states. Overall the
best thing scholars can do now is work as LEPS (linguistically endowed
persons) to assert themselves in educational institutions, in the media, in
community organizations, and in state and federal educational bureaucracies,
advocating a new public idea, accompanying that idea where possible with
concrete suggestions. At stake is not any particular languages but the value
of advanced language learning itself. No one is better prepared than the
scholarly community to make this case.
Notes
I
am indebted to Sam Rosaldo, Eric Wong and Altaf Ghori [for their
wedding story, to] Geraldine Nichols, Guadalupe Valdés, Nicolas, Shumway,
Werner Sollers, Olga Kagan, James Fox,
Marina Pérez de Mendiola, Heidi
Byrnes, Phyllis Franklin, Elizabeth Welles, David Laurence, David Goldberg,
and the MLA Advisory Committee on
Foreign Languages and Literatures for helpful suggestions and to participants
in the 2002 ADFL seminar in Long Beach for ideas and stimulating discussion.
1Guadalupe Valdés has shown that surveys about bilingualism are often
designed from a monolingual perspective that is unable to capture the reality
of language use and attitudes in bilingual populations. See, for example,
"Still Looking for América" (Valdés et al.) and Valdés's Expanding
Definitions of Giftedness.
2If hands are not raised and you find yourself with a long-term
monolingual population, you can tell your audience they are an interesting
exception-and ask them what historical factors have defined the community
this way.
3Both Johanna Nichols and Guadalupe Valdés ("Foreign Language
Teaching") articulated this position eloquently in 1988, in response to
government proposals to found the National Language Center.
4For recent discussion of this subject, see Peyton, Ranard, and
McGinnis.
5 Whether language training is institutionalized or not, all societies
have it. They train their orators, scribes, judges, singers, teachers, holy
people, curers, and storytellers; they have ways to identify those who have
talent for these things.
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