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Why I Stopped Caring About Grammar as an Asian Canadian Writer
Growing up as an Asian Canadian, I often felt I needed to prove my English skills worthy to the white folks.
“Your English is pretty good for a Chinese person.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to participate in the school’s ESL (English as a Second Language) program?”
“Do you need a translator?”
My pride in not needing ESL
I remember all throughout elementary school, I would watch each of my coloured friends enter the ESL program.
While I and the rest of my classmates were given time to work on math or some other assignment, the ESL teacher would come by, pick up 3 or 4 students and return them 45 minutes later.
Each year that I wasn’t picked made me feel like I was “better” than them as though my English skills were “far superior”.
Along with all the other ways I attempted to be white and to desperately fit in, not being an ESL kid meant I belonged. I didn’t want the attention of being pulled out of class. I wanted others to perceive me as someone who didn’t need the extra help, just one of the “normal” white kids.
By the time I finished high school, my confidence in English had skyrocketed. From teachers who consistently praised my writing to winning awards and poetry contests to top marks in English, my ego inflated.
Writing became my passion (it’s gotten me through many hard times) and validation for my talent fed my inherent perfectionist tendencies.
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By Katharine ChanGrowing up as an Asian Canadian, I often felt I needed to prove my English skills worthy to the white folks.
“Your English is pretty good for a Chinese person.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to participate in the school’s ESL (English as a Second Language) program?”
“Do you need a translator?”
My pride in not needing ESL
I remember all throughout elementary school, I would watch each of my coloured friends enter the ESL program.
While I and the rest of my classmates were given time to work on math or some other assignment, the ESL teacher would come by, pick up 3 or 4 students and return them 45 minutes later.
Each year that I wasn’t picked made me feel like I was “better” than them as though my English skills were “far superior”.
Along with all the other ways I attempted to be white and to desperately fit in, not being an ESL kid meant I belonged. I didn’t want the attention of being pulled out of class. I wanted others to perceive me as someone who didn’t need the extra help, just one of the “normal” white kids.
By the time I finished high school, my confidence in English had skyrocketed. From teachers who consistently praised my writing to winning awards and poetry contests to top marks in English, my ego inflated.
Writing became my passion (it’s gotten me through many hard times) and validation for my talent fed my inherent perfectionist tendencies.