Reflecting on Language and Development: Doronila, Tupas, and a Little Town in Palawan

Doronila’s beautiful ethnographic study on six marginal communities in the Philippines brings to light a central issue which, to my knowledge, has not really been confronted. What is the link between literacy and development? What does language have to do with development? Although the Philippines has been in love with English, another question is, how important is English to development? Tupas asks similar questions when he looks at how important or unimportant language is to development.

In the northern part of Palawan, there is a little town with a few households and small school. Most people are farmers, fisherfolk, some work in the town of Coron. Due to land reform, many have their own land and their own little homes. Still, development is slow. For a long time, many folk lived by all manner of illegal activities: kaingin farming which has stripped tracts of forest and caused dangerous fires, illegal logging which has rendered the mountains of area bald and punishingly hot, there is the ulingan system where the mangroves are cut and burned into charcoal. The environment of the area has suffered a lot. I am very close to people who are trying to improve things for that place. Their concern originally was the degradation of the ecosystem (an ornithologist I’ve spoken to has said that that area of Palawan houses several species of bird that are not found anywhere else in the world) but, what is environmentalism in the face of poverty? So, now, whatever humble programs are in that area focus on livelihood first. A little church was also built as a way of helping build a better community. There is the possibility of microcredit to be offered to the people. What about me? Right now, I’m in the cheering squad. I help with community activities, the environmental projects, and visit from time to time. I can help with education when it becomes a major project but right now, it is less important considering many other problems. I could teach English, but what of that? For someone who has made a living out of English, this little town is very humbling. At no point in my life have I ever felt so irrelevant. To think, this little community is not even nearly as poor as other communities in the Philippines.

There are development issues all over the country. In tiny communities, what role do language issues play? I have yet to look at language in that little Palawan town so I can’t say anything about this right now. But as Doronila and Tupas have pointed out, literacy and English will not solve many problems particularly if the community is not consulted first. I attended a meeting with that community and its main problem was money. No one really mentioned schooling, just money. There was a very good discussion when people talked about what livelihood projects they could do. Now, I hear that some of the people have managed to set up little stores where they sell different goods including reusable materials from Manila. The going is slow, though. Development is slow but some problems are being addressed in very small steps. Tupas’s “transformative education” could really help here. Maybe that is what I have to do for this small town.

Ph.D Blog Assignment 7: Rethinking Languages and Texts

Lin’s and Martin’s essays bring out a very important point in language studies: that all languages play a role in learning and thinking. I have memories of being told to avoid Taglish while growing up. I remember even as an adult consciously avoiding mixing languages, lest both my languages deteriorate. Now, after having studied more and thought about the issue more, I am learning to enjoy mixing languages. Paraphrasing Lin (and Pennycook who she paraphrases), it is almost impossible to use a “pure” tongue and people have identities with different components. These components may each have their own languages that come together to form a hybrid whole. I used to joke by describing myself as a mongrel. What’s wrong with a mongrel anyway? My beloved “mongrel” pet cats taken from Manila’s streets are hardy, sweet, and require little maintenance, as opposed to the “pure-bred” delicate cats of people I know who need expensive food and regular grooming.

Lin’s essay is especially valuable to me because she discusses hybrid languages and looks at appropriation from a “resistive” perspective. She writes that “it will be a better idea not to view languages as ‘pure’, separate stable systems with solid, fixed boundaries.” Instead of viewing languages as fixed systems, Lin asks us to rethink them as open systems. They evolve, change, absorb new elements, discard old ones, and are remade politically. This openness of languages questions what I think are “traditional” ways of viewing appropriation. Based on what I’ve been reading so far, appropriation is when a foreign language becomes more local. It starts carrying characteristics of local languages such as lexis and expressions but it would still be considered “English,” for example. Hence, we have Philippine English and other forms of world Englishes. However, if languages are open systems, it may not be appropriate to view them as being appropriated. Rather, languages develop and, for example, the “Philippine” features in Philippine English do not make a variety of English but, perhaps, a Philippine language with a variety of components. One problem with the world Englishes framework is that it is still centered around British/American English. All other Englishes are offshoots of the center; hence, have a “lesser” status. If Lin’s argument is followed, it will become possible to stop looking at varieties of English as varieties and simply consider them as languages that developed from an ecology. Of course, this idea is not without its problems as language development also carries with it underlying ideologies and hegemonies.

Martin’s essay, on the other hand, is a very good look at using English-only textbooks in a rural community in Brunei. I enjoyed this work very much! What I found particularly interesting is how he argues that textbooks distribute what is considered valid knowledge and, in a way, also approve of what new knowledge can be considered valid. This is important because the teaching of Philippine Literature in English can also display what knowledge is validated here. In addition, studying what texts are taught in class can provide insights on what language is valid in the Philippines. As Tupas pointed out, there are norms being normed in these texts. It would be interesting to note which norms exactly and what ideologies are bubbling under the surface.

It was very good to read Lin and Martin. I’m quite excited to read more of their work!

Ph.D Assignment 6: Norming the Norms, (Re)Claiming what is Mine, and (Re)Making my Own

Ruanni Tupas’s article, “Which Norms in Everyday Practice and Why?” is an intense critical look at the state of language studies today with a very strong personal-political twist. I think the underlying question that this essay forces on ELT practitioners, researchers, and all manner of academics involved in language studies is, “what do you really believe in?” And, corollary to this question is, “are you really willing to do what it takes to realize your convictions?” This is not to say that I am oversimplifying Tupas’s question. On the contrary, I can see its profound psychological, social, and political dimensions. Consider someone like myself and many other ELT practitioners who are fully aware of new Englishes, linguistic imperialism, global English, etc., etc., etc. We, or at least, I, am also aware of the generally generalizing nature of these theories. Since they mostly start “from above,” they gloss over many of the realities and conflicts facing practitioners and people who live in and within English. World Englishes? How egalitarian! Linguistic imperialism? How wonderful that someone has articulated it! English as constructed? You bet! But, when it comes to actual practice, the nitty-gritty, what can we say? In an earlier class, we all agreed: we know the ecology-of-language paradigm but we still follow the diffusion-of-English one. I will be the first to admit that I am obsessed with grammar and I am quick to notice people’s and my mistakes.

But, Tupas’s question is a valid one and that is why his article is so intense. Which norms do we follow in the classroom? Which norms do I, as a researcher, student, teacher, and person accept? How do I justify these norms? How do I norm my own norms? How do I react when I hear teachers being unable to differentiate the “p” and “f” sounds? This is what I mean about the psychological dimensions of Tupas’s question. It forces me to look at myself and I am sure it will do the same to other teachers who are open to the ideas behind it. I may accept the existence of Philippine English and all its styles but I am not sure I am liberated enough to teach it. The most I can do is accept some norms and norm them, such as saying “drink your medicine” and “I’m here already” by not correcting them. These, though can be considered minor errors; there is no meaning alteration and anybody can pick up what is being said. But saying “titcher” for “tEEcher” might be something else. As I asked in a earlier blog post, what is a ELT teacher enmeshed in the hegemony of the language in the Philippines to do? What is socially and politically profound about Tupas’s question is it also liberates English practice and research now from the intellectually “faddish” nature of World Englishes, etc. “Which norms and why?” cuts straight into the daily, the small, the humble, but the most important and problematic areas of practice. I am reminded of a Zen saying which I will paraphrase here: “everyday life is the way.”

This blog assignment asks whether Tupas’s article can somehow affect our work for this class. In my case, I would answer yes. My dissertation is supposed to study language appropriation in Philippine short stories in English. In a previous post, I started questioning the whole notion of appropriation. For something to be appropriated, it means it existed outside first and then it moved inward. So “standard” English came in from the outside then was refashioned according to the interests and needs of the inside. However, standards have norms and these are what need to be appropriated. What norms are these then? If these are norms from outside being considered, what new norms are being formed by the inside? Looking at the inside in turn, what new norms are being normed? If Filipinos can say that we have claimed the English language, how could we reclaim it as we question our own norms? Appropriation, after all, could be considered a creating or a norming of new norms.

But why worry about the language of literature? Matthew Arnold may have described literature as “the best that has ever been thought or written” (or something like that) but what about the actual writing of what is written? The language of literature is a remaking of language, formalized in written texts that are venerated and loved. What norms do the language of literature formalize? In another, earlier essay, Tupas asked “Whose English?”, that even in the seemingly egalitarian framework of world Englishes, some norms are better than others. Even in literature, I would think, that some writers are greater than others because of their norms. Even worse, these norms can be enshrined while negatively representing others. Either way, grappling with ideological questions that come into play in the psychological level is very difficult to do.

Note: Bea, I know this is longer than allowed. I hope you’ll forgive me. Tops, I know you’re there. Keep asking the painful questions. Cheers!

Ph.D Assignment 5: Politics, Ethnography, and a Desire to Make Things Better

Suresh Canagarajah’s wonderfully readable essay revitalizes the idea of ethnography by introducing a critical stance to the supposed objective observation that an ethnographer is supposed to do. Canagarajah argues for a critical ethnography that looks at all knowledge as politically constructed and at communities as located within power struggles. This position can allow a researcher to work with a community throughout all or different stages of a language policy while critically examining the cycles of power and resistance--whether overt or covert--that come into play.

Canagarajah’s critical ethnography assumes a strong political position on the part of the researcher. By his definition alone, critical ethnographers approach their work fully committed to examine power relations and most likely, speak for the voiceless. As with many things, there are advantages and disadvantages.

First, the disadvantages. An ethnographer might be committed to strong political goal, for instance, helping his/her community discover for themselves their loss of language rights. This is well and good but the first problem I see is that what if the community is not interested? What if they feel that English, for example, does not trample on their language rights but strengthens them? A community might view English as a necessary global language that will allow them to speak of themselves in a global stage. Canagarajah’s critical ethnography makes it clear that policy planning from below is more important that planning from above. An ethnographer might discover that people from below do not agree with him/her. In this case, he/she has to be open to see what new hypotheses can be developed from fieldwork as traditional ethnography knows all to well.

A second disadvantage could be that if the researcher is fully convinced of a political position, there is the risk of “skewering” the data to suit that position. In other words, the researcher could impose his/her position on the data and on the community. Now, objectivity is sketchy at best even in ethnographic studies. But, in a case like this, the integrity of the work itself comes into question as the researcher may have used the data to further an agenda.

There are advantages, of course. First, a strong political position could really be what a critical researcher needs to help his/her target community. If there is an advocacy component to the research the researcher is really in a position to help or at the very least raise awareness about whatever issues are there. This is also a valid form of research particularly where LPP is concerned. Once issues are raised, the community can react and put in their own input, thereby providing the researcher with very powerful data. In this case, the researcher him/herself will have to just be ready to face detractors who may not view this kind of work as “valid research.”

A second advantage is the researcher may be more aware of the politics inscribed in the community. This advantage is really for the psychological or mental preparedness of the researcher. Anyone who works fully with a political position ideally tries to be aware of all the politics that could affect him/her. The researcher then maybe more prepared to deal with whatever issues he/she discovers in the field.

Ethnography is very exciting because it allows researchers to really deal with the daily grind of their research subjects. I would think that it would really be an eye-opener! However, politics and advocacy do not always go with traditional forms of research. Much as I agree with Canagarajah, I would not be surprised if his approach would be viewed as problematic.

Clearing my Head: Possible Paper Ideas

Idea 1: After reading Pennycook, I am interested in examining the concept of linguistic appropriation and wondering whether this can be reframed or rethought of specifically with Philippine literature in English in mind. If English does not exist, where does that leave the concept of appropriation? What of postcolonial literatures in English? Could they just be referred to as “literature from the Philippines,” for example? I think appropriation is a useful concept to interrogate as I may be writing my dissertation on this idea. Perhaps asking these questions might expand my dissertation idea further. I agree with what Bea and Tops commented on in my blog: “appropriation” is problematic. This explains why over the year that I’ve been thinking of my dissertation topic, I have been worried about “appropriation” and in the back of my mind, wondering whether it is “appropriate.” Tops mentioned in his comment that it is taken for granted as something celebratory but since it is a post/colonial term, I wonder about its nuances. Looking at it from a celebratory perspective puts other Englishes within the colonial hierarchy. This, I think, overgeneralizes questions of language development, for one thing. Can I look at appropriation from the other way around--as in, “from below” or the-local-as-the-center.”

I think this paper idea is very exciting as it turns something taken for granted around. I can, though, foresee some problems. First, access to material that I can draw on to further my ideas. Bea, I have not read any of articles you mentioned in your comments. Neither have I been able to locate a copy of that Pennycook text here as of yet. If I do this paper now, I will just be basing it on critically looking at the texts I have right now, Ascroft, both Kachrus, Edgar Schneiger. Second, this paper may not have anything to do with LPP! I could find a connection as I think the concept of appropriation has been invisible (there’s that word again! Bea, I will still answer your questions about invisibility) but may be important in how Philippines literature in English is viewed and accepted. I think there are essays on this somewhere floating in the back of my mind which I could bring to light, so to speak, if I eventually remember what they are. I have to “simmer” this idea first.

Idea 2: It would be interesting to see what language policies inform the teaching of Philippine literature in English. If I remember right, Philippine literature in English is part of the high school curriculum. What language policies (I bet their invisible--again) are implicit in the teaching of Philippine literature in English, specifically on the high school level? How do teachers teach it? Is there a “language component” or is this just taken for granted? The biggest problem with this idea is time. High schools are on summer break and although I could just base this paper on discussions with teachers, I do not know how substantial that would be. Unless, of course, I use Ateneo’s AJSS program for this?

Bea, I know you said three ideas but I hope you’ll forgive me for just giving two at this point. Obviously, idea 1 is what I want to work with.

Reading Group Discussion: Thinking Critically, Teaching Critically

Everyone in the group loved Pennycook! We all said that it was a lot of fun reading him and teasing out his ideas, no matter how difficult they seemed. The most important lesson we all got out of him was to be better critical thinkers and meet many concepts, frameworks, and ideas with healthy skeptical eyes. The whole discussion group session was on how we can think critically, live critically, and teach critically.

The discussion began with a summary of Pennycook’s ideas in the essays, “The Myth of English as an International Language” and “Postmodernism in Language Policy.” We discussed the differences between postmodernity and postmodernism and applied the definitions to our own work. Most of us admitted that we were still working within the postmodern framework. The challenge for us became how to look at our work from the postmodernist side. This was not easy as one of the first questions we had was “what is postmodernism for?” We are all wary about it just being an intellectual exercise. Our general response to this question was the importance to thinking critically to make sure that we are aware of our contexts, and, as Oliver said, to “liberate ourselves from our imperial past.” Heidi very sharply pointed out that postmodernism makes us aware of what biases we have. At the very least, postmodernism reminds us to question everything.

After we discussed postmodernism, we moved to the myth of English. I asked, “How does knowing that English as an international language is a myth, how does that affect our own LPP practice?” Similarly, how does being postmodernist affect our own LPP work? Several answers came out. First, having a skeptical eye leads us to question the assumptions underlying our work. In a way, we become our own critics as we tease out where our ideas come from. This also leads to questioning what we do in our work. For example, if we judge a student as writing badly, critical thinking can lead us to discovering the assumptions that we have been working with. For example, if we don’t question the existence of standard English, we will expect standard English from our students and even from ourselves. When our students write with what we might consider a “deviant” style, we judge them against standard English styles. This could lead to low grades and a lot of frustration.

We found that the teaching of grammar is one area that needs critical thinking. We are all faced with the dilemma of knowing a more critical perspective but we find it difficult to infuse that perspective in the teaching of grammar. We may decide not to correct all student errors but when they take entrance tests, they fail! Or their parents complain. Or the school thinks that the quality of teaching has gone down. In other words, it is very difficult to apply a critical stance in the classroom when the larger structures we find ourselves in still prefer old paradigms. All stakeholders of English, schools, parents, teachers, all need some kind of retraining. How, though, is the problem.

Ph.D Blog Assignment 4: Pennycook and Asking Critical Questions

Pennycook’s essay, “Postmodernism in Language Policy” presents new ways of viewing key areas in language policy and planning today. He argues that much of the work regarding English such as the diffusion of the language, world Englishes, language rights, and language loss hinge upon postmodernity, a framework that flows from and recreates old imperial frameworks. Rather, he points out that critical work should flow from postmodernism which postulates a constant skepticism for all received forms of knowledge, including language. Postmodernism, however, is not just an intellectual exercise. Instead, it has profound political implications that touch on governmentality and social change. Since much work on LPP still use postmodernity as their foundation, these miss crucial areas of study on the shifting ground of meaning creation through all forms of semiotic systems and simplify the issue of the relationship between language and identity. What is needed, according to Pennycook, is a greater understanding of what goes on when people live with and within a language.

Pennycook’s postmodernism is “a skeptical view of the world that tries to take nothing for granted” (62). Language is not spared from skepticism. In fact, Pennycook argues that studying language needs this skeptical eye so “givens” can be avoided and new ways of looking at old things become possible. In my area of studying the language of postcolonial English literatures, the concept of appropriation is central. In their chapter on the language of postcolonial writing, Ashcroft et al define appropriation as “the process of capturing and remolding the language to new usages” (2004, p. 37). How would a postmodernist, skeptical eye look at this definition or even the idea of appropriation?

First, appropriation is located within the framework of postmodernity. It assumes that English is brought to a colonial society and “appropriated” or made to speak of and to whole new contexts that used languages other than English. Appropriation then assumes that something alien is made native in a process of meaning making and understanding. However, this definition assumes that when writers use English, it was originally alien to them. In a way, English is forced to speak of, for instance, life in a Filipino town. The other side of this, though is equally valid: what if English is not alien at all but natural and native to the context it is being used? In this case, it is not appropriated but natural.

Second, appropriation also assumes a “native” center that uses the language in the “right” way. In other words, literature in English from a postcolonial writer is encountered and maybe judged by its “exotic” use of language and used a means of proclaiming the “native-like” proficiency of the writer or the writer’s “creative” use of the language as he/she, for example, inserts local words and colorful expressions in the text. The native center is implicitly seen through language deviations, for instance. Again, what if the language is not appropriated but part of how the writer and readers maybe create and understand meaning?

Last, appropriation is a process, indicating a beginning and an end. The beginning is the colonial imposition of the language, its eventual naturalization and the end is still anybody’s guess. The closest end could be what Schneider refers to as differentiation (2008). This process of appropriation is one of the outside coming in. Is it possible to look at it from the other way? That is, from the inside taking in the outside. This way, a colonial language like English is not imposed and accepted but taken in by the semiotic systems of a postcolonial country, for example. Philippine writers in English, then, did not master the language in order to use it in their writing. Rather, the language was taken in and made part of their semiotic systems.

A postmodernist skeptical eye is exciting but difficult. At what point can something be overly-questioned? Is it possible that something like appropriation can be accepted as a given while questioning its deployment and use? Then again, with the world in English, “question everything” might really be the way to go.

References:

Pennycook, A. (2006). "Postmodernism in language policy." In T. Ricento (Ed.), An introduction to language policy: Theory

and method. USA, UK, and Australia: Blackwell.

Ashcroft, B., Griffiths, G., and Tiffin, H. (2004). The empire writes back. 2nd ed. London and New York: Routeledge.

Schneider, E. (2008). Postcolonial English. UK: Cambridge University Press.

Structures and Onions: Reactions to Comments

Hi Bea, Tops, Len, Oliver, and Heidi. I decided to respond to your comments via another blog post to prevent my comments from disappearing into the netherworld of Blogger. Here we go:

Tops re Tollefson: Hi Tops! Nice to meet you again. I love your work! I have picture of you from ESEA somewhere in my computer. I will email it to you.

Regarding your comment on Tollefson: yes, I do agree that he is pointing out the flaws in the structure, so to speak. English fits right in because it can be effectively used to work with the structure. As to whether teachers can liberate through the teaching of English, why not, right? How? That’s something we can all talk about.

Regarding Ricento and Hornberger: I think the first thing to do is to find out where Hector and others like him could be located in that onion of theirs. On one hand, they are invisible to the outer layer. Tollefson talked about how the English policies here only serve a few and Hector, etc., are probably not within that few. Could they be in the middle and central layers? It depends on who is asking. I could possibly put them in the center. They are not classroom practitioners but they could be people that teachers can encounter and choose to work with. Of course, that is not easy. Another possibility is the onion doesn’t work at all. As I said, they’re invisible, on the fringes of the onion. There’s more work to be done here!

Bea re Ricento and Hornberger

Hi Bea! Those were two very complicated questions you left me. Whoa. Let me address them slowly:

1. How to rewrite a policy to protect the practitioners? Part of what made me think of this issue were my experiences with ACELT. I love teacher-training and it’s something that I see myself doing for the whole of my teaching career. I find that when dealing with teachers, I learn a lot and I get a better picture of ELT in the Philippines. In many ACELT projects, we are hired by the school to address whatever teaching practice and policy concerns they might have. And, almost without fail, I, as an ACELT trainer, am met with a lot of defensiveness on the teachers’ part. Often, they feel that my presence is the school’s way of saying they’re not good enough. Whereas in some cases, this might be true (as in, the school has doubts about its teachers), I think a school’s policy on teacher training could be reworked to be more empowering. Perhaps it’s not in the writing of the policy itself but in the execution?

Right now, I can’t think of a “formal” language policy to quote except something about teacher improvement. Two years ago, ACELT with Len as project coordinator and me as “lead foot soldier” had a 10-month project with a school somewhere up north. It was a private Catholic school, very generously funded and for the duration of the project, ACELT would come every other Saturday to train. I handled several of the workshops and I knew that the school genuinely wanted to help the teachers improve. There was a lot of resistance, though. I had some sessions when only 5 of the 17 expected teachers showed up. Some would come in the morning and quietly disappear during the day. Most said that their Saturdays were precious and they had family concerns. Others said that they were just too busy. There were even some who said that the ACELT schedules conflicted with other school activities that they were supposed to attend. What I felt was here was a decent policy that didn’t come out right because the teachers’ context was ignored. I think that is a first step toward rewriting policies to protect and even empower: context is everything! What do the teachers say about what they need to improve?

1. How are some layers more important than others at times? Polycentricity? That’s a very interesting word and entirely new to me. It’s interesting how it assumes that centers shift, an idea which is not easy to accept. I got this idea first from my own practice. I think all teachers feel this shift when they know the school policy but they apply it in their own ways. In my home department alone, a lot of people do their own thing. We all know the objectives of the department but everyone gets to do something unique. In a situation like this, the central focus on the objectives of the department is moved to the fringes as the teacher’s own objectives become his/her class’s focus. But, if the teacher is confronted with something contentions, like, let’s say, a student asking for a change of grade, then the department’s policies come into the center again, no matter what the teacher’s emotions might say. It’s like a dance, a movement in then out, out then in. I once experienced teaching a call center preparation course and I knew that the company I was eyeing strictly adhered to American language standards. Now, I knew what was to be expected of my students but all the work I had them do dealt with the Philippine context. In a way, the supposed central layer--the policies of the company--took second place as I used my own methods in the actual class. I never pursued that job after that one class as there were too many other policy problems that I saw.

As to shifting centers, how does Blommaert discuss it? Is there something here about resistance? Are there possibilities for new ways of viewing power and resistance in the classroom? I should read that article!

Len and Oliver: Yup, I guess we’ve all experienced feeling trapped. Oliver, what do you mean by empowered?

Ph.D Blog Assignment 3: Blommaert, Linguistic Practices, and the State

Blommaert’s essay discusses the futility of monoglot state-prescribed identities. He begins his discussion by differentiating state and nation and the problems of assuming that they are one and the same. In the first place, a nation is formed ideologically and in many cases, rooted in resistance. A state, on the other hand, is a governing body with power to effect policies that support and uphold its position. This distinction is easily seen here in the Philippines where the government upholds a Philippine state that has definable borders, laws and goals. This state, though, may not be the Philippine nation as imagined by anti-government groups like the NPA, for example, who have their own idea of what makes a Philippine nation. The distinction between nation and state is important because it removes the automatic assumption that whatever state-prescribed policies will immediately have an effect on national imagining or national identity. In language practices, this translates as the reason for the break between a state language policy and actual practice. In addition, since language is linked with identity, if people do not use the language prescribed by the state, it is possible that their identities are excluded from state practices. In the Philippines, the clearest example would be the relegation of regional languages to “auxiliary” positions. Since the state uses Filipino and English, only users of these languages can speak within state enterprises. Users of so-called auxiliary languages are given auxiliary roles.

The Philippines, as mentioned in an earlier class session, still largely follows the diffusion of English paradigm. Although nothing on paper says this outright, this paradigm is translated in practice as that which prefers “standard” English and deviations are frowned upon. Due to economic needs, the Philippine state promotes the idea of working abroad, sending money home, and, in the local scene, working for call centers. These jobs are oriented toward other states that use “standard” English so Filipino English teachers are tasked with leading their students to produce the kind of English that these jobs would want. However, I am lucky. My university is a relatively progressive one and our students have more choices than to work in an English-speaking country or a local call center that deals with English-speaking countries. My department’s thrust toward critical thinking leads me to discussing language and its social and political implications with my students. In a sense, this is a “deviant” way of dealing with state practices: I’m an English teacher so we use English is class but the language is used to question its role in our lives.

Still, there are times when within the relative liberalism of the university are instances of very conservative notions of English and language in general. A student once approached me with a copy of the Guidon, the school paper, annotated with the red ink scribblings of an outraged parent. This person had underlined in red ink the grammar errors found in the paper and written in bold letters was the question, “is this the English being taught here?!” I do not remember the exact wording, but the sentiment is accurate. This little incident shows what linguistic norm and code is implicitly considered valid: standard English. In a way, the assumptions of the angry parent are what make my position as a teacher difficult. As much as I don’t want to spend so many class hours correcting errors, other “stakeholders” in the education game--parents, board members, alumni--expect error correction and still hold on to the idea of standard English. Sometimes, I worry for myself. What are the parents going to do to me if I don’t meet their expectations?

Ph.D. Blog Assignment 2: The Philippines, Tollefson, and Critical Linguistics

Reading Tollefson’s essay, “Revolutionary Language Policy,” reveals how all-important yet invisible language is from Philippine politics and society. This is ironic because language has been a sore point here, from the artificial dominance of a Tagalog-rooted “national language” to the inextricable link between English and success. Added to this are further issues on the types of languages here, whether they are English-based (the subtypes of Philippine English, whether acceptable or not) or native Philippine languages (Filipino as an amalgam of local languages, Visayan as having a larger user base but relegated to an auxiliary language). With all these language-related issues, why, then, do I say that language is invisible? It is simple really, for as Tollefson points out, despite the Philippine constitution’s best efforts to reduce social inequalities, “it does not commit the Congress to insuring language rights” (1991, p. 157). When I read what Tollefson had written about language policies here in the Philippines from Marcos’s to Aquino’s time, I realized that language here is treated by the government with very little critical thought: our constitution says that Filipino is the national language but the official language is English. What does that mean? English and local languages can be used in schools but I didn’t see anything about protecting and training these schools to insure good linguistic education. There is something about hoping that a true national language will emerge as maybe--just maybe--Filipino will become truly national by taking in elements from other local languages. Is that even possible? Even more surprising, despite all my studies, I find that I have never thought about these things and in many ways, my interests in LPP in the Philippines have just touched the surface.

Tollefson featured one case study detailing the lives of Hector and Maja Adolpho. Poor but fiercely ambitious good folk like them are typical fodder for soap operas in Filipinized Cinderella stories. However, the reality is grim. Tollefson’s study shows how Hector and Maja are enslaved by all sorts of social and political factors, including language. Hector got his job as a taxi driver because he speaks passing English, enough to drive foreigners around but it is not good enough for anything else. His kids go to public school but the educational system is so bad that they are not likely to acquire enough English to find decent-paying jobs. If they don’t study, they are even more doomed to a life of poverty. It’s not a Cinderella story, it’s a catch-22. Tollefson points out that after attending several community meetings, Hector and Maja slowly start realizing that they could be poor because of English. They’re right. When Tollefson asked at the end of the essay about what Hector and Maja could do, I honestly didn’t know what to say.

The most important thing I am learning now is the invisibility of language policies and their equally invisible consequences. I was once riding a jeep through Quiapo and a passenger told the driver to stop “sa tabi ng church.” The driver growled “saan?!” and the passenger, with a annoyed tone, said “sa church! sa simbahan!” The driver reacted with “pa-church-church ka dyan. Mag Tagalog ka!” On one hand this could be described as a kind of resistance to English but I think it was not. Rather, it was the angry response of someone, the jeepney driver, who has always unconsciously known how English had excluded him from a better life. In the Philippines, jeepney drivers are close to the bottom of the barrel. To my knowledge, many live in slums and a life of poverty is inevitable. Whereas hard work could bring you places everywhere else, here, you need very good English to get anywhere. Hard work is secondary.

So what is a hardworking English teacher with the best intentions to do now? I can keep teaching, researching, talking and listening to my students. Maybe I’ll be able to teach a truly liberating linguistics and small but powerful changes can be made.

Ph.D Blog Assignment 1: The Onion in the Teacher or the Teacher’s Onion

Ricento and Hornberger’s essay, “Unpeeling the Onion: Language Planning and Policy and the ELT Professional” is one that deals with the many layers of ELT, from the macro level to the more micro and private levels of individual teachers. In their onion analogy, the outer layers of ELT deal with the macros, the middle layers deal with the role of social institutions and the center contains the classroom practitioner, or the individual who is supposed to implement and live out macro and institutional policies. Of course, it is assumed that throughout these layers, there are multifarious relationships, each with their own layers.

Are Ricento and Hornberger correct in placing the classroom practitioner in the center of the onion? The answer all depends on how the onion is used. Let us consider the metaphor more closely. The outer layers of an onion could be peeled off and discarded as they get dirty and moldy first. In this respect, the outer layers protect the flavorful center. That policies protect practitioners is up for debate so the analogy would fail here. On the other hand, often, a cross-section of an onion is used in cooking so that all layers are chopped up and minced and used as a component for a dish. In this case, the analogy shows that all layers of the ELT onion are equally important when it comes to flavoring the dish, or society as a whole. Is it indeed right to say that the classroom practitioner is in the center given these two other ways of perceiving onions and policies?

First, maybe not. The outer layers of an onion preserve the flavors of the center. As I mentioned earlier, policies do not always protect or support its practitioners. Furthermore, it is an onion’s outer layer that is perceived first and the center only examined much later. But the reverse is true for ELT. I would say that it is the classroom practitioners that are noticed first, and classroom practices that are most criticized at first. Looking at policy happens much later when individuals with a critical eye can start questioning whatever power relations are implicit in a classroom. Ricento and Hornberger admit to this when they talk about the “transformative” power of teachers. Although it is true that classroom practitioners are often voiceless in debates of policy, it also cannot be denied that a school’s strength is the quality of its teachers. In this light, the analogy holds: as long as the center is pure, rotten outer layers can just be discarded.

Looking at ELT through my second analogy, that of all the layers of the onion chopped and minced together, I would say that it does not matter at what layer which aspect of ELT is put. All are important in the long run. An excellent policy might be in place but if this is not combined with equally excellent teaching, no goals will be achieved. An onion is a strange vegetable: it is essentially in many dishes but its taste has to blend well with all the other flavors. Nothing is more obnoxious than an overwhelming onion taste. In this case, LPP is an integral part of society but it cannot be too obvious.

Like all teachers, I have been influenced by the outer layers but but particular layers have had more influence than others sometimes. For instance, I follow many policies related to what kind of language must be produced in relation to requirements dictated by the department I am working for. But I also cannot deny that I could infuse the class with my own politics and policies. An onion’s layers could each be taken out and made to function on their own. Teachers are the same.

Language Policies and Me: A Reaction to the First Day of School

Yesterday, we were going through a quick overview of language policy and planning (LPP) in the ELT (English Language Teaching) world and everywhere else. What became clear almost immediately was that language policies and plans all have political agendas. When we are told to use English, for example, inadvertently, other languages (and the people who speak them) are excluded. Here is a very wise quote from linguists Tomas Ricento and Nancy Hornberger: "Because language is involved, in one way or another, in virtually all human activities, planning language is not much different from planning society." Reading this and I could not help thinking of other forms of urban planning, such as building good housing communities for people with cars and excluding the poorer segments who cannot afford their own vehicles. Similarly, because the Philippines is thriving on BPOs, only decent speakers of English have access to jobs. My colleague, Dr. Martin, has written that the belief that English is a tool for economic success is a myth. The sooner we think of more obvious ways of economic success, the better.

Yesterday was not the first time, though, that I encountered this kind of position on language policy and planning. Having been teaching for years, I have come face-to-face with the truth of English here in the Philippines: it has opened opportunities for everyone, yes, but it has also brought a lot of baggage, one of which is the polarization of our society between those who have English and those who don't. What I did find to be such an eye-opener yesterday was when we focused on families, individuals, and their responses to language policies.

When confronted with the word "policy," I always think of something overly-large: a macro decision or stipulation which legislates a certain kind of behavior or choice. What our discussion bought out is the importance of individual decisions in implementing their own policies, whether these are in accordance with the macro or their own little form of micro policy. This I find very interesting because it will lead me to deal with individuals, people who live "small" lives like me but who make the profound decisions that influence the rest of society. It is the family, after all, that decides on the language that kids should use. To me, it would be interesting to talk to parents about their ideas of language and maybe examine how they use language. Also, talking to English teachers about what language/s they use at home and why would be interesting. Do teachers actually believe that it's English or bust? I wonder what they would say.

Ph.D Work: Restarting an Old Blog

I've left this blog abandoned for about two years now and it seemed for a time that my blogger life was coming to an end. However, due to some requirements for my Ph.D., I've had to reawaken the blogger in me and continue this work which I had planned for myself two years ago. In a way, this came as a shock as a blog was the last thing I ever thought I would have to do to obtain a grade but, it is as good an excuse as any so I have decided to jump in. I hope I can maintain it this time!

As a first entry, let me first explain something of my blogger history to those who I know will be reading this blog for the first time. A glance at my profile will show that "The Pinoy Cunning Linguist" has a sister blog, "Forming a Straight Circle." The latter is my first ever blog and although it may not seem to be in accordance with my critical politics, there is an explanation for it and why I abruptly stopped blogging. Outside the academe, I work with adults who desperately need English to apply for job, get a promotion, or immigrate. I started "Forming a Straight Circle" because I wanted to give them a fighting chance when confronted with linguistic policies that put them at a disadvantage. Eventually, I stopped it because I started worrying about identity issues on the Net. I decided to leave the blog online, though, just in case it could still help some people. Through this old blog, though, I met some people online and got a more micro picture of English in the Philippines and in the world.

My intention for starting "The Pinoy Cunning Linguist" is clear. I really did want a blog to explore language issues in. Now, it seems a waste that I did not maintain in. Still, when there's life, there's hope! This blog has now gotten a new lease on life. To my classmates and friends, I think it's wonderful that we are all required to start blogs. Sounds like fun, don't you think?