Critical sociolinguistics in the adult English for Speakers of Other Languages classroom.

For the last ten years I have taught English to adult immigrants in a variety of community based settings. My students' educational backgrounds have ranged from little or no formal schooling to postgraduate work. Those students with limited formal education often come to class with negative self-images, and at times suggest that they don't know anything of value. This essay aims to highlight ways that teachers can counter this perception, by helping students to see their sociolinguistic knowledge of their native language as an important tool in the learning of English. Rather than waiting for full fluency in English before introducing a critical analysis of language and class relations in the United States, a critical sociolinguistic stance can promote students' acquisition of English while helping them articulate their sometimes unspoken class critiques. While I believe that this approach can work with any immigrant group, this essay will focus on my work in the Haitian community, and on several key aspects of Haitian sociolinguistics.

TEACHING ESOL

Most adult immigrants who enroll in classes to learn English do so for the same reason--a shared recognition that limited English skills will prevent them from getting a better job. They believe that if they have any hope of escaping piece work in factories or hourly wages as housekeepers, they must improve their ability to speak English. As with generations of immigrants before them, their dreams of "making it" in the United States are directly tied to their level of English. When I ask new students what kind of work they do, many of them say, "Ahh, my English is no good," even before they tell me where they are working. In doing so, students display a sharp sociolinguistic awareness that language use will play a role in any judgments made about their work and social class status.

Unfortunately, most ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) classes and textbooks seem to be lacking this sort of sociolinguistic awareness. There is no discussion in ESOL textbooks of how language use is affected by power relations between speakers, or by salient social characteristics (such as gender, age or level of education). This creates a dangerous situation where language is presented context free. For example, here is an explanation of the imperative from a widely used textbook: "Imperative sentences ask someone to do something in a very direct way. Keep in mind that the level of politeness depends a great deal on intonations of the speakers voice." (1) Of course, what this explanation should include is that the level of politeness one can expect depends a great deal upon the power dynamic between the person using the imperative and the person they are talking to. How the imperative is used, and if it is used, helps to shape the relationship between the speakers.

Equally unfortunate is the fact that most teachers do not see students' own sociolinguistic knowledge as a valuable classroom resource. Many hold onto what Freire calls the "banking model" of education, where a teacher is responsible for pouring information into the students' heads. This leads them to be unaware of the fact that before students can use the grammatical term "imperative," as immigrant workers they may already be well aware of who gets to use the imperative in the world outside of the classroom. In fact, given the opportunity, these students can articulate their own sense of the sociolinguistics of the workplace, which can provide them with a chance to express complex thoughts in English, and to find solidarity with other students in their position. In addition, by calling on students' sociolinguistic knowledge, teachers get a fuller sense of each student's language use and knowledge.

Because of the primary importance of work in my students' lives, and my own interest in the role language can play in social class analysis (influenced by Antonio Gramsci and Mikhail Bakhtin), I chose work and social class to be the focus for much of the sociolinguistic inquiry that took place in my class. I believed that such an approach would make it possible to connect discussions of language use to topics such as worker's rights and unions, and to provide a space for my students to connect with each other as workers. This wedding of liberatory pedagogy with the tools of sociolinguistics creates a classroom where students can look critically at how English is used beyond issues of subject-verb agreement or question formation. Using a truly critical sociolinguistics, students can examine such diverse topics as the many ways a boss' silence can be read, when "maybe" means "no," and why a job would be advertised as "Produce Team Member" rather than "stock clerk."

This last question is no small concern. ESOL classrooms are often one of the only places an immigrant might feel safe enough to ask questions they have about their new home and society. The classroom can be a space where students and teachers share information and perspectives on work, and on how these immigrants are adjusting to their new lives in the United States. I believe making an explicit link between learning English and class consciousness is the type of radical teaching that needs to take place in the adult education classroom.

HAITIAN IMMIGRANTS AND THEIR SOCIOLINGUISTIC BACKGROUND

For the last few years I have been teaching an ESOL course at a Haitian community center in the Mattapan section of Boston. Mattapan is particularly suited to house such a community center because Mattapan itself is nearly 40% Haitian. In addition, it shares a border with Milton and is close to Randolph, two suburban communities which members of the Haitian American middle class call home. For this reason, the center services a cross section of the Haitian immigrant population, from recent immigrants to those who have been here for more than a decade. The center's clients also come from various social classes in Haiti. This is reflected in the students in my classroom. Often times, students who had maids in Haiti sit next to students who were maids in Haiti.

Although Haiti is often referred to as a bilingual country, this is not an accurate description of language use there. All Haitians can and do speak Haitian Kreyol, (2) while only about 8% also speak French. French speakers typically come from the educated elite, and use of French serves to mark a speaker's class background and status. For this reason, even Haitians who cannot speak French fluently often try to make their Haitian Kreyol sound more "French." Speakers do this by adding French vocabulary, using a French accent even when using Kreyol words, or even changing the grammar of their Kreyol to resemble French. Variations in the mixture of French and Kreyol creates what sociolinguists who study creole societies refer to as a creole continuum. At one end of the continuum is what is called a basilect, the variation of a creole that is most unlike the tar get language (which is typically the language of the colonizer). At the other extreme is what is called an acrolect, the variety of the creole that most closely resembles the target language. In between there are many subtle gradations. In a continuum environment, speakers tend to shift between varieties of the creole according to the demands of different contexts.

Within Haiti, there are indigenous terms for these concepts. Haitians refer to the basilect as "Kreyol Rek" (rough Kreyol) or "Gwo Kreyol" (big or deep Kreyol). Not surprisingly, these variations of Haitian Kreyol are associated with peasant farmers and the urban underclass. This Kreyol is generally devalued. At the other end, Haitians refer to the acrolect as "Kreyol Swa" (smooth Kreyol) or "Kreyol Fransize" (Frenchified Kreyol). These varieties are associated with the elite, or those that are attempting to join the elite. While some Haitians may think people speaking "Kreyol Swa" are putting on airs, it nonetheless retains its value as marking social distinction. In Gramscian (3) terms, the Haitian ruling class has historically been able to maintain its position both through the coercive power of the state (manifested as systemic political violence), and through "consent" manufactured by the organization of civil society. The constant privileging of French helps Kreyol-speaking monolinguals internalize a subordinate role that they come to think of as "natural," and in this way language policies keep the working masses in their place just as effectively as a gun.

"WHAT IS KREYOL REK?"

I must preface this description of the work done in my classroom by noting that I had been together with my students for over a year, and in that time we had developed a tight bond. We shared personal problems, and were very upfront and honest with each other. Since I speak some Kreyol, and since I have some knowledge of Haitian history and culture, my students often joked that I was "a real Haitian." We had interrogated US culture and society together, talking about politics, immigration, racism and prejudice against Haitians in the United States. To turn our focus to a sociolinguistic examination of language use was thus not surprising for my students--it was just another avenue for critical discussions. I note this only to suggest that I believe my students did not see me as a complete outsider. Perhaps someone who was not so trusted by the students would not be able to do this work in the same way.

I have also learned from past experiences that some students are turned-off by what they call "politics." Some of these students have self-identified as very religious, and have told me that "politics is dirty business." Yet these same students became very engaged in discussions of how they may be affected by changes in welfare policies. Over time, it became dear that what they disliked was the loud debates that erupt over specific political parties and candidates. To be sensitive to this, I try to strike a balance between naming (and claiming) the sociopolitical content of my classes, and letting the politics be implied. I believe that the more organic the path to a political discussion feels, the more students invest in the process.

I began this project by asking my students, "What is Kreyol Rek?" At first they were surprised to hear my use of the term. They knew I spoke some Kreyol, but this was not something most Haitians talked about with non-Haitians. When they recovered from the shock, they began to provide some answers. "It is bad Kreyol." "It is no good Kreyol." "It is rough Kreyol." I asked for an explanation as to why it was considered bad or rough. Most students responded that it was because the type of people who spoke Kreyol Rek were uneducated, and that these uneducated people were themselves rough. I then asked them what "Kreyol Swa" was. Again, they laughed at my knowledge of the term, and then explained that it was "nice" or "good" Kreyol. I asked why it was nice. They explained that Kreyol Swa was spoken by people who have a good education, or by intellectuals. When I pressed for more explanation, they told me that Kreyol Swa was nice because it sounded French.

I then asked my students what kind of Kreyol they spoke. Several students spoke up right away. "I speak Kreyol Swa" one said, "I am well-off" (using a term I had recently introduced to her). Other students said, while looking somewhat sheepish, "I speak Kreyol Rek. I didn't go to school." There was then an uncomfortable pause. Everyone noticed that those who had self-identified as Kreyol Swa speakers were sitting on one side of the room, while those who had self-identified as Kreyol Rek speakers were sitting on the other. I asked the students what kind of jobs Kreyol Rek speakers had in Haiti. They explained that Kreyol Rek speakers were manual laborers, factory workers, and farmers. This meant that their families could not afford to send them to school. As part of this discussion, the self-identified Kreyol Rek speakers started to talk about how hard they themselves had worked in Haiti, and how they did the work that other people didn't want to do. One student then spoke up, "You know what, I am not embarrassed. I am not embarrassed that I speak Kreyol Rek. People shouldn't be embarrassed by it." The "well-to-do" student frowned. "It's not good. It sounds so bad."

Then, in one of those wonderful moments when a student reads your mind and asks the very thing that you have written down in your lesson plan, a student wondered out loud, "What is English Rek?" This question captured all of the students' imaginations, and as a group we began to think about possible answers.

"WHAT IS ENGLISH REK?"

To think about what English Rek would be, I asked my students to apply the same sociolinguistic knowledge that informed their awareness of the differences between Kreyol Swa and Kreyol Rek. Students worked in small groups to try and identify how they would recognize English Rek when they heard it. We then discussed their findings as a whole class. Not surprisingly, students pointed to the same features of language that help them to differentiate Kreyol Swa from Kreyol Rek--vocabulary, accents, grammar and a general "sound" or tone. I then asked who they thought would speak "English Rek," and they pointed to the same people who speak Kreyol Rek--factory workers, manual laborers, and those that didn't go to school. They then hastened to add that immigrants in the United States spoke English Rek, and that this was true regardless of an immigrant's country of origin. Later on in the semester, when a car blasting hip-hop drove by our open window, the class was unanimous in shouting "that's English Rek!"

This notion of English Rek, that it was the English of the working class, of immigrants, and of African American youth culture, created interesting tensions in the class. The self-described speakers of Kreyol Swa were now in the same position as the Kreyol Rek speakers. They were all speakers of a variation of English that was associated with the working class. This shift in status changed the dynamic of the classroom. The Kreyol Swa speaking students followed the lead of the Kreyol Rek speakers in conducting this analysis, even though they had often dominated discussions in the past. They had to think of themselves and their classmates in new ways. The end result of this was that during the course of this project, the class stopped sitting in a segregated fashion, and became much more of a unified group. To my surprise, the "well to do" student stopped describing herself in that way.

Some students suggested that while they knew that speaking English Rek was preventing them from getting a better job, they found that they could communicate with immigrants from all around the world and that this shared variation of English provided a sense of solidarity. Some students even suggested that when immigrants speak English Rek they can understand each other, even when speakers of a more valued English could not understand what they were saying. At the same time, there were limits to this potential solidarity and to the positive valuation of English R&. Students expressed concerns that their previous ESOL classes had prepared them to speak English Rek by not teaching them the kind of English that would provide social mobility. They saw ESOL education as limiting, and the perpetuation of English Rek as a symptom of the failure of ESOL. They also suggested that this was planned, because offering working class immigrants a real chance to move beyond English Rek would threaten the status quo. Students also did not want to be associated with the English Rek of African Americans. They felt that this language was also "uneducated", and would prevent them from moving forward in the United States. This combination of racial, immigration and language politics is something I hope to explore with my students this year.

As our examination continued, the students decided that since "Rek" was not an English word, that they didn't want to refer to English Rek. I asked them what analogies they could make to the situation in Haiti, and after some discussion, they came up with the following framework.

(High End)    (Middle)       (Low End)

College        High School    Rough
English        English        English

                              also Street
                              English,
                              ESL
                              English

In a previous lesson I had introduced the terms blue collar and white collar, and we had grouped occupations according to what students thought were blue and white collar jobs. Returning to the same list, I asked the students, "What kind of English do you need for (this job)?" They worked in groups, creating lists that were divided by the types of English they had suggested. Below is a summary of the class' decisions.

Rough          High            College
English        School          English

taxi driver    gas station     reporter
               attendant

housekeeper    mechanic        pharmacist

hairdresser    librarian       dentist

janitor        dental          lawyer
               assistant

gardener       truck driver    secretary

butcher        photo-          electrician
               grapher
factory        bus driver      plumber
worker

baby-sitter    delivery
               person

Not surprisingly, they associated rough English with blue collar jobs, and college English with white collar jobs. As with previous discussions of work, they placed electricians and plumbers in the higher status category. Both of those professions are well respected in Haiti, and students bring Haitian social class frameworks with them to America. They then apply this to their sense of language use. Most Americans, I am sure, would be surprised to see that electricians and plumbers speak the same kind of English as lawyers and dentists do.

LANGUAGE AT WORK

In addition to working with students on macro-level sociolinguistics questions, I also provided opportunities to look at how social class issues affect face-to-face interactions. Again, this is typically not addressed in ESOL textbooks. For example, here is a sample dialogue from a very popular series of ESOL textbooks called Side By Side. (4)

A: I wonder why Fred works so hard?

B: I don't know. He must like his job.

A: You're probably right. If he didn't like his job, he wouldn't work so hard.

This passage ignores how capitalism structures workers' choices about work. When I show my students this passage they usually laugh--it makes no sense to them. None of my students has ever told me that they work hard because they like their jobs, or that they had any choice in how hard they worked.

By contrast, here are two sample passages I have written and used in my class.

1) John: Hi, Marie. Can I ask you to do something for me?

Marie: Sure, what?

John: Susan is sick. Can you work until 8 PM?

Marie: I guess. I have to call my family to tell them.

John: Thanks a lot.

2) Paul: Hi, Marie. Susan is sick. Don't go home yet. Stay until 8 PM.

Marie: I don't know if I can.

Paul: Well, I don't have anybody else. You'll have to.

I have my students read the two passages, and then share their reactions with me. Students tell me that John is a good boss, and that Paul is a bad boss. When I ask them why they think this, they point to the fact that John asks Marie questions, rather than using the imperative, and that he thanks her. Paul's use of the imperative shows him to be trying to use his power to force a worker to work overtime.

My students tell me that they experience both types of interactions, and that it is great to be able to dissect them in class. Some students are able to provide clear examples from their own on-the-job experience. Nurse's aides explain that nurses talk down to them, and that doctors don't even talk to them at all. They also note that they are never referred to by name when interacting with staff members above them in the workplace hierarchy. These students told me that they began their job feeling like health care professionals, and indeed, in Haiti, they would be treated as such. However, the way language is used at work here has made them reconsider this assumption. Now they recognize their jobs to be blue collar ones. Some of them are disappointed, and are having to reassess their class identifies. When I ask students if they ever air their concerns at work about how they are being treated, most of them reply, "I can't say anything. I am not in a union." In this way my students are refreshingly candid and eloquent about language use and class relations in the United States.

In one class students blew off steam by acting as the boss. I brought in a big black hat, and whoever wore it was expected to speak as a boss to the rest of the students. It was great seeing students walk around imitating their boss' bluster and contempt for workers. Students loved doing it, and they attempted to trump each other with their performances. Other moments of spontaneous humor also provided insight into my students' perspective on social class structures, particularly with regards to their employment. During one class I had the students review work vocabulary (e.g., cashier, bagger, baby-sitter) by having them take turns pantomiming the tasks of a certain position. When they were done acting the role out, they would ask the class "Who am I?" ("You are a taxi driver.") The lesson was going well, and I decided to take a turn. I instructed a woman who had acted out the role of a seamstress to draw a sweater on an index card. I then asked several other students to do the same. When they were done I took the "sweaters" and gave them each $1 in paper money. I then went to another table of students, and sold them the same sweaters for $25 in paper money. When I asked "Who am I?" several students shouted out in Kreyol, "Vole!" ("Thief!"). The class erupted in cheers and laughter. When they calmed down, we talked about what I was expecting them to say ("factory owner" or perhaps "employer"), and the different meanings and translations into English that "vole" could have. During this discussion, we highlighted the power of certain words to hide or reveal social class dynamics (such as the popular term "team member" mentioned above). Asking my students in a direct fashion for a class analysis of piecework would probably not have gone anywhere, but in a classroom that sees sociolinguistic critique as a key resource, it was not surprising that they volunteered one.

REFLECTIONS ON THE EXPERIENCE

I believe that the classes described above met the goals that I set for them. Students were able to become critical sociolinguists, articulating their own theories of English language use, at both the societal and interpersonal level. In doing so, they became more aware of different aspects of language that they had to master. Additionally, students were able to express their awareness of work and social class issues in English. This plays a key role in the process of empowerment. As time went along, the focus on language use and social class status became wider. Subsequent lessons had us examining regulations governing use of native languages in the workplace, and where to file claims of unfair labor practices. These were all related and grew out of the initial conversation.

What role do classes such as these play in social transformation? Gramsci suggests that "every revolution has been preceded by an intense labour of criticism." (5) Those elements of civil society that support the hegemonic state by creating and naturalizing consent must be transformed before the seizure of power. Gramsci called this type of cultural critique and transformation a "war of position," and contrasted it with the use of force (a "war of maneuver"). From this perspective, a radical sociolinguistic critique of English, Kreyol and French is in keeping with Gramsci's revolutionary program. Class relations are in part established through the valuation of certain language varieties, and the restructuring of class relations will require a re-valuation of language practices. However, such a strategy is a long-term one, and is open to criticism of gradualism. Indeed, without a connection to efforts at social change that take place outside of the classroom, introducing sociopolitical analysis into the classroom risks being written off as an empty ethical gesture.

Writing about these classes caused me to reflect on past classes. In ten years of teaching ESOL with adults, there were times when my attempts to encourage discussion of issues such as homelessness or workplace safety were not embraced by my students. This would happen most often when students felt that such activities were "off-task." Some students want to be in a traditional classroom, where the teacher gives a lecture or models spoken English, and the students repeat the words and phrases over and over. Students always ask for more vocabulary and more grammar. I believe that because I kept the focus on language itself,, students did not feel that we were wasting our time. They did not question that this critical examination of English was helping them to improve their own English. They loved learning new vocabulary (such as hierarchy, arrogant and abusive), and were happy to see that they were able to articulate things that they could not before. They loved the fact that they were more sensitive to how grammar can highlight the power dynamic in interactions, and that they could call on the sociolinguistic knowledge and resources they already had. Finally, I also believe these lessons were a success because I never used the imperative with my students. At least I hope I didn't.

NOTES:

(1) Robinson, Barbara (1995). Focus: Interactive Grammar for Students of ESL. New York: St. Martin's Press (pg. 143).

(2) This choice to use "Haitian Kaeyol" as opposed to "Haitian Creole" is also a sociolinguistic issue. I chose "Kreyol" for its association with grassroots political organizations in Haiti and in the United States. While there is a good argument for just calling the language of the Haitian people Haitian, at this time I believe such a decision might cause some confusion.

(3) Gramsci, Antonio (1987). Selections from the Prison Notebooks. Ed. & Trans by Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell Smith. New York: International Publishers

(4) Molinsky, Steven J. and Bliss, Bill (1989). Side by Side: Second Edition, Book Four. New York: Prentice Hall Regents. (pg. 68)

(5) Gramsci, Antonio (1977). Selections from Political Writings, 1910-1920. Selected and edited by Quintin Hoare. Translated by John Matthews. New York: International Publishers

ERIK JACOBSON has been working in community based adult education for the last 10 years. He is co-author of "Creating Authentic Materials and Activities for the Adult Literacy Classroom," available from the National Center for the Study of Adult Learning and Literacy.