10/6/22. Language and Literacy Narrative:

When I was in elementary school, I held language very close. I had high reading level and a strong vocabulary. As I started to become a teenager, much of my linguistic proficiency transitioned to areas like logistics and mathematics. I also gradually stopped holding language so closely to myself. As I started to grow, I started to retain less and less of my memories that involved it. Perhaps because being multilingual is so practical inNew York, I have never been able to forget my imperfect relationship with foreign language. Unlike most of my peers in my Italian and Greek neighborhood, I was never able to speak the languages of my ethnic background. In my family, only my grandparents spoke anything other than English. Conveniently for me, when I was in the peak of my linguistic interest, I started to spend quite a bit of time with them.

I would stay with my Arabic speaking Egyptian grandparents the three days a week that the nursery and kindergarten was closed. My Egyptian grandparents, who I called Pop and Teta, lived in Astoria which has always had a nice middle eastern community. Teta would always take me on walks to the middle eastern shops to get things like treats or ingredients. She would speak Arabic to all the store owners and the people she would see on the street. I always felt a bit frustrated and left out not being ableto understand Arabic and follow what was going on. As a little kid who was used to attention, I did not like how people would just flip switch and suddenly, I was not able to have a role in the interaction. This was not exclusive to outside of the apartment. Whenever they picked up the phone for their friends, they would speak Arabic. I only understood the filler words or terms of endearment like yani and elbe, meaning ya’ know and my heart or my love. I was a fairly smart kid, and every time someone around me used a phone I could understand what they were talking about. When you are so used to an ability, it is very frustrating for it to become so conditional. At home my grandparents would speak Arabic to each other often. I would constantly spend time with them. They would try to raise me with positive influence by teaching me spelling and math or about Egypt or how to fix household things like chairs and toilet seats. I would spend the most time doing this with Pop. Since we shared our names, it is no coincidence that I would take a lot of influence from him. There was quite a line of men as engineers in my family, so he would teach me to solve puzzles, build model kits, fix things, make measurements, and even use tools. Once again the pattern continued and the only part where I was not becoming a product of them was speaking Arabic. The only time where I was not spending time doing something with them was when they would occasionally speak Arabic to each other.

I will never forget the day I started to learn Arabic with them. One day I was helping pop fix a toilet paper rack in the wall. He and Teta where repeatedly calling out to each other and talking in Arabic. The conversation did not sound serious enough that it needed to be spoken in a language I could not understand. I remember that as I handed pop screwdrivers and screws, I could not stop thinking about if I was even capable of everlearning Arabic. I decided that the best way to find out was to try, and I asked Pop “How do you say paper in Arabic?”. He looked a bit surprised because it was the first time I had asked him about Arabic. He gave me my answer and I tried my best to memorize it like it was a math equation or a vocabulary word. I followed up with “How do you say toilet?”, and I similarly recieved my answer. I thought that was all too easy so in an attempt to show off I put the two words together and then asked, “Is that how you say toilet paper?”. I was surprised when he presented a different word and explained that it does not always translate directly. Even though I understood how difficult Arabic was to learn, I told my grandparents that I wanted them to start teaching me bits and pieces. They gave me a yes, seeming so happy to hear me ask. I felt so empowered and confident that they felt I could be able to do something that I saw as so difficult.

Progress was slow but consistent. It would take many attempts for a phrase or word to stick but I would eventually lock in each one I tried. At first, I would learn only common vocabulary like food, furniture, family, or sports. My vocabulary was very sparce, and I had no clue how to put it together at all. Even though I would never get past a beginner level, I still made some progress and had what I considered success. Just like anything I had success in, I started to really enjoy this learning. I wanted to expand it and they would also start to teach me phrases and other things about Egyptian culture. I loved learning phrases because they were much more usable than solitary vocabulary words. I especially loved learning things about Egyptian culture because it made me understand them and relate to them more. Before that first day, I never would have imagined how thiswould elevate the time I spent with them. To this day the smell of rosewater, which lived in every corner of that apartment, brings me back to all the wonderful experiences I had.

Learning Arabic and connecting with my family’s culture was eye opening. As I got older, and had nobody to speak Arabic with, I started to lose my ability. I may not have held on to the language, but I will always hold on to the lesson it taught me. I had thought that I was as close to my grandparents as a grandson could be before I started to learn Arabic. In the beginning I never imagined that there was anything more to a a grandparent grandchild relationship. Learning about their culture and why they were how they were made me understand them with a better perspective. Learning how to use the language allowed me to connect with them at a more natural level. This development let me realize why society viewed grandparents as so important. I also realized that so manyother kids who were closer to their culture or had Americanized grandparents already hadthis connection that I was missing out on. I have never agreed with the idea that assimilation to American culture had to be as impactful as it was said to be for immigrant Americans. I think when both parties are versed enough to communicate decently, it is human disfunction that creates a barrier between people of different origin. Since humansare imperfect, I also realized that this must have meant that Americanized kids with unassimilated family members may have a disconnect that hinders their relationship. As I met more people and kept the idea in my mind I came to see that it indeed happens all too often. I started to notice disconnects of all types of intensity in my friends’ relationships with their families. I find it so sad to see people talk about fights they had with their parents because “they just don’t understand”. There are so many first and second generation Americans that just do not bond or get along with their parents because neither party is willing to analyze their problem and make an attempt at having that platform to relate to. In fact, the first friend I made at CCNY was explaining how he never spends time with his parents because they have nothing in common to talk about or do together. Since they do not have many interests, he tries to teach them about things like sports or technology where they are always dismissive. He explained to me that he stays late on campus doing work daily because his parents now constantly tell him that he must hate them and how he never wants to spend time with him. Even more upsetting is when I see my friends have falling outs with parents over cultural standards like what demographic they are allowed to marry or whether they may have piercings. I always felt blessed that I never had to overcome disconnects like this and I pray for anyone who is less fortunate than I am.

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