Matthew Diaz

Language and Literacy Final Draft

English 11000

2-2-22

My entire life was and is Spanish. My religion; Spanish. My family life; Spanish. Even my community is Spanish. My school, though, Formal English. I was 16 years old, and my engineering teacher told a few of us to attend this conference, an info session about possible careers in the engineering world. Today being a Wednesday, you could say, it was the turning point of the week. Anticipation towards the freedom of weekends quickly evaporated due to the  conference taking place smack dab in the middle of our one week break. “What I wished for as a carefree teenager, something so pure and uninterrupted, was ruined by this annoying conference. It was meant to be perfect!

Oddly enough when the day came, I can’t help but describe it as a lovely day. It felt good, like I was doing exactly what I needed to. Backtracking just a bit, I woke up in the Bronx.

My parents are still sleeping, tired from work. Some 50 minutes later I found myself stepping off the 1 line in downtown Manhattan, looking down at my little icon and where to step towards next. From there on out all I could think about was the directions and not being late.

“Good morning, I am here for the engineering career info session” I said to the front desk worker. I had just arrived, early I might add.

“And your name please?”

Oh, “Matthew Diaz”

“Thank you very much, please walk to that elevator and up to floor 18”

The room was very modern, tidy, perhaps a bit glamorous. Grays, whites, and hints of black all formed the space in which we were to learn about our possible engineering futures. This was an engineering firm office, it made sense, but it was cold. The room’s entire left wall was glass windows. I barely noticed due to the fact it showed the side of another building wrapped in glass, just like the one I was in. “Stereotypical Manhattan I suppose.” I said to myself. This contrasted the people contained in the room though, “Stereotypical New York City I suppose.” Where you meet people from all walks of life, much like I was doing right now. Finally the session started, quick overview, introductions and then forming into small groups, “Typical info session, I think?” Again to myself, I’ve never really been to one of these.

We had to introduce ourselves within the groups, making idle chat with each other and the group leader, a real engineer that sounded very professional. Starting with the person right next to me was,

“Sofia, it’s my American name, and that’s what you can call me by”

“You can call me Matthew, it’s just my name”

I’m confused, American name? I mean do I have one? I have heard of this, when someone chooses a generic name of sorts so people can call them easier, I think, at least. Her introduction didn’t sit well with me. Not that I was against it or I didn’t like it. I didn’t like how she said “American Name” The reason behind it was simple, even if it was just me, I didn’t like the fact that someone had to change their identity to fit the mold of an “American.”

It makes me think surrendering your real name to something to be “easier” to say denies the power that someone’s native language holds. It devalues their full identity and only empowers their “standard English identity.” Reinforcing this is Formal English being the only acceptable language in many formal or professional settings. It gives more value to “English,” while simultaneously taking away from their entire self, their multiple identities. There is supposed to be a balance. As teenagers you begin to put who you are together and become more self aware, yet we are being told one part of us holds more value than what we experience everywhere in our life, within our homes, with our families, communities, culture. Everywhere but schools, and jobs. And that doesn’t sit right with me.