The Battle of the Languages

My brain functions in English. I speak, read, and write English on a daily basis. I enjoy the arts, media, and play with the ABCs. When emotions run out of me from heated conversations with my parents, I shout in English. Most significantly, I think in English. Thus English is my primary language.

So what happened to my Vietnamese? At 18 months, I left the 24 hours/7 days a week live Viet Channel to an overwhelming American English broadcast which unfortunately drowned out the Viet Channel. My parents tried to shut down the American broadcast within the confines of the home, but various uncontrollable factors nearly made it impossible for my parents.

By 3 years old, I remember my fascination to learn the English language. At that point, my parents had an English tutor visit our government-subsidized home (known as public housing) near the capital, St. Paul, MN and Regions Hospital (known back then as Ramsey County Hospital). My parents understood that success in America meant some assimilation and that clearly began with the mastery of the English language. Hours of audio cassettes had them repeat “Hello, my name is Phat (or Thach). How are you?” Consequently, the repetition caught into my head. These sessions excited me, but my parents also wanted to hold on to our cultural identity. Outside of these little sessions, the family spoke in only Vietnamese. However when I teetered into Kindergarten, the conversion from a controlled home environment of Vietnamese to a nonstop education of English tilted the battle to the curious children and away from the wise parents.

From then on, my Vietnamese language deteriorated because:

1. My parents put their sweat into the life of my family. My dad studied during the day at community college and took care of the kids at night. Whereas, my mom moved heavy machinery from 5pm to 5am and then had the energy to cook, clean, and comfort the children during the day. This cycle strengthen the financial foundation of my family, but it left little time for my parents to teach the children proper Vietnamese.
2. My brothers and I never understood the importance of learning Vietnamese in primary school or even up to high school. I clearly remember moments when our parents would yell at us for speaking in English to each other. Yet, somehow we couldn’t help it.
3. My brothers and I went to the Viet Buddhist Temple to learn Vietnamese every Sunday for three-four years during my middle school years. I hated it. The teachers were volunteers, but the class was so disorganized that I learned nothing as I climbed to the highest grade level. My dislike for the course may have pushed me further away from learning Vietnamese.
4. MN is white. My graduating Roseville High School class had four Viets (and may I add no Viet girls to work my magic). As a result, most of my friends were non-Viets.
5. Our education strengthened our English and left our Vietnamese to the wayside. I remember in Kindergarten I fell behind in the ABCs midway through the school year. In fact by my 2nd semester, I only knew the letter Z because my teacher’s name was Mrs. Ziemer. So I pushed myself and my parents pushed me to read English books in order to do well in school and of course to get my “Book It” Pizza Hut pizza.
   

Over time, my parents lost their battle to keep me from losing a piece of my culture. Many have told me in Viet Nam that is up to the parents as to whether their children will be fluent Viet adult speakers. I politely disagree with these people because my parents tried to muscle the law of the land onto their children for so many years, but the heavy factors above outweighed my parents’ desire for their children. In reality, my parents ( which are the best in recorded history) had a slim chance to win.