"Growing into Literacy"
Living in a country a thousand miles away from the English-speaking lands, how could a boy ever have anticipated the impact that this foreign language would make in his life. A boy who was still too naïve to project and foresee what he was going to need the most in his blurry academic future. As opposed to his mother-tongue, this was the language whose significance was not apparent to his eyes when he was in primary (elementary) school. The boy, unfortunately, was me. Back then, we were taught the basics of this language, and I would not do anything more than what my teacher told me to. Even if I were to, I could not seem to find a strong reason to do it. Reading and writing English was rare, let alone speaking; I would immediately get stuck on the second sentence as I finished my first. After all, I did not have any English background whatsoever to begin with, unlike those kids whose parents were professionals. My dad was not highly educated, nor was my mom. I'm not saying they were not clever, but opportunities to pursue studies were rare among the villagers. In the old days, most of us could not afford a tertiary education. So in my family, English was beyond our need. These were among the limitations that discouraged me from making any effort to polish my English literacy.
Years later, as I enrolled in the secondary-level education, I began to feel that there was a growing need for me to at least improve my literacy in English. I was admitted to a full boarding school in town, the place where kids from different places are recruited based on their excellent academic achievements in primary school. There, the environment had grown a little more competitive, academically. But still, it was not helpful enough to nurture the interest in me for advancing in English. We did more reading and writing here as compared to before, but to me it was all for the sake of fulfilling my obligation, or getting a grade good enough to get by. Don’t bother asking about spoken English, it was never emphasized. English was only spoken during class sessions, and in a very limited amount. To top that, those who tried to speak English outside class would be labeled a “show-off." In this case, I went along with the majority, refraining from taking any risk of going against the flow. This was the kind of attitude that crippled my progress. Nevertheless, my growing interest in the language forced me to do extra learning for myself, in secret. I started to pay more attention in class, and keep a handbook in my pocket titled “vocabulary." Deep inside, I had a hunch that the day will come when my extra efforts will somewhat pay off.
I graduated from secondary school with flying colors. I passed a scholarship interview and was enrolled in an American Credit Transfer Program (ACTP) at a college far from home. Here, I had a complete turnaround of my environment. I had to face a massive culture shock. The competition was much tougher; the atmosphere was dense with the pressure to get ahead. Here, not only was English highly emphasized, but it was also a "distinction" to those who were proficient in it. It was spoken everywhere in the area. Unlike those upper- and middle-class fellows who benefited from their childhood upbringings, I started out here from zero. As the name of the program implies, all the courses were biased toward English. Out of eight, six were devoted to English alone, be it Public Speaking, Writing, or Critical Reading. Upon admission, there was a placement test carried out to assign classes to students. To my worry, the test was based on English proficiency alone. Students were placed in classes ranked from the most proficient to the least proficient in English. It turned out that I was placed in the second last class. All of a sudden I felt a sense of inferiority surging into my veins, telling me I must regain my pride. I was not sure how my other classmates took the outcome, but to me it was an insult. The reason for the test was so that the teachers could give proportional attention to the different classes. I was so against the policy of discriminating us like that. Personally, I would have preferred the classes had been assigned randomly so we students could learn from each other, something which I thought to be more effective since we were closer to our friends than we were to our teachers. As a protest, I never went to any of the upper classes unless necessary, as I couldn’t get over my inferiority. On the other hand, those from the upper classes seemed to really enjoy visiting lower classes. I bore all these feelings for a semester long before the classes were finally assigned at random. From that point on, I made a vow to myself; I must and will catch up with those in the upper classes. If I were to make it abroad, I will make it prepared.
Prompted by the inferiority I once experienced, the next two years were devoted seriously to my pursuit. I did anything I could to improve my literacy skills, from imitating what the teachers said in class to jotting down new words and phrases into my ever-present handbook. There were times when I even resorted to talking to myself when no one was around. That was how serious I was to learn this language. After two years, the moment I had been waiting for finally appeared. I made it through to a university in this foreign land of America. When I first came, I realized it was the time to put all that I had learned in theory into practice, as I was going to have everything I needed to boost my literacy. Having focused my life on this sort of disappointment-driven pursuit, I had to pay the price for my obsession. I was getting ahead of myself, and was so concerned with reaching perfection that I became paranoid about making mistakes. I was not sure what had caused me to resort to being a perfectionist, but it had been an awful experience. Now I wouldn’t speak or write any English unless I was certain it was hundred percent correct. For this reason, there were times when I ended up being silent due to the fear of looking or sounding "imperfect." Not only was I paranoid about being imperfect, but I was also afraid of seeing someone better than me among my fellow native friends. I used to regard them as potential threats to myself. At this point, my obsession was doing me more harm than good.
I finally came to realize my damaging mistake; I took in too much from the book because I thought I could learn everything from it, believing that everything other than what was written in the books was inaccurate. I did not realize there was more to acquire through hands-on experiences. Now, I have learned much from my history and started to take things easy on myself. Over time I realize that having a goal and passion to make it real is good, but beware that it may turn on us if it happens to grow into an obsession. I have learned that the best way to improving my literacy is to learn as I go. There’s no need to push myself too hard just trying to stay ahead, when it is actually doing me more harm. My revenge-driven pursuit ends here, I now regard growing into literacy as an enjoyment rather than a burden.
A work submitted to Karen van Meenen of Writing Seminar
