The importance of English

It’s probably far too late to warn those sitting finals, or end-of-year examinations that the Americanisation of the English language may be acceptable on the street, in a gallery or neighbourhood “lime” a fete/party on the beach, or wherever else young people congregate to enjoy each other’s company, but, however much being up-to-the-minute with the very latest idioms impresses one’s friends,  it cuts no ice with examiners, especially examiners in far-away lands. To make passing written exams even more problematical, there is the recent craze for text-messaging on cell/mobile telephones . . .I hope you note that, with the sole exception of the word “lime,” I’ve resisted the temptation to use slang of any stripe in the previous  paragraph before we delve into the expressions in use among the gilded — and not-so gilded — youth about to write their year-end examinations. “How many young Trinidadians and Tobagonians ought to be blaming the  electronic media, the advertising copywriters and the promoters of local fetes when they hear they have failed their CXC or GCE “O” and “A” level examinations? Will they realise who, or what is responsible for their failure — and will they care? In this high-tech age, English language classes occupy a very lowly place compared with maths and the sciences.

Why, teenagers ask, make fuss about writing good English? Everyone knows that “hardest” and “baddest” mean best, that “bread” means money, “funk” has nothing whatsoever to do with being afraid and “gay” means homosexual. It’s all very well for the “turned-on” (2003 cool?) young to use those words, those phrases — but what about their elders who have to read and mark the piles of examination papers? In other words, the men and women who — a decade or two ago were “plugged-in”, “switched-on”, “with-it” students? (By the way, are the youth of today still “turned-on” or is that a phrase no middle-aged matron is supposed to understand?) To be sure, local examiners will know what our teenagers mean when they write “that was the hardest fete” but it’s bound to earn the young candidate a bad (meaning the opposite of good) mark. Once one starts monkeying around with words one never knows where it will end. (2003 indeed — see the brief reference to text messaging.) When bad means good it won’t be long before, to the horror of Makandal Daaga (nee Geddes Granger) and friends, black means white — and vice versa . . . And that could lead to some interesting nightmares in the Republic of South Africa (in 1980, remember). “Hardest” and “bread” and “funk” are slang which (God willing) will go the same way as “wizard” of World War II vintage and “famous” — the late 18th, early 19th century word for “hardest.” Given time, all three may regain their original meaning.

In any case, wise students will follow their teachers’ advice to avoid all slang when writing examinations. Or should that be “students would follow their teachers’ advice?” I suppose they would if they knew the difference between those two overworked words (2003 note, in column after column in Sunday Newsday, Undine Giuseppe does her best to show readers, young and old, the difference between “will” and “would” but, to date she seems to be flogging a dead horse). It’s more than likely that most students will write “would” when they mean “will” — and never know why the examiners can’t understand what they have written. When asked whether she could explain the vast, and very important, difference, distinction, between “will” and “would” to a class of young Trini journalists, a visiting tutor replied that she’d given up tilting at that particular windmill. Changing the subject slightly, there’s the over-serious student’s temptation to copy the bureaucrats, to imitate politicians pontificating at the openings of conferences and seminars thus: “Hopefully, in the on-going situation of education in Trinidad and Tobago . . .”, or (and I quote from a piece written in 2003) “Conscenstiousness (sic) of environment necessary to channel resources toward the spiritual enlightenment of nation building is definitely lazed.” (Well, OK, so that’s taken out of context from a commentary on an art exhibition — but can you understand it? I can’t.)

Then there are phrases such as “integrated management options”, “optimal organisational programming” and just two weeks ago I thought I’d scream at the next person on the list of speakers to utter the words “capability building” for the umpteenth time. I mean to say — who’s got the time or patience to read through that sort of thing? It’s oh, so easy to write, but what’s the point of writing it if readers can’t understand it or, which is worse, completely misunderstand the message? This lowly subject, English, is all we’ve got to tell each other and the outside world who we are, what we are and what we think — and why, what we want — and why, what we do — and why, how we do it — and why, what we want others to do for us (please) and how and why. Good, written English is what students need to prove to examiners they know the subject (be it history, geography or any other subject) and deserve to pass their examinations. To young people beating their books, the best of luck with the questions, take care how you word your answers. Leave slang, fete promoter’s and copywriter’s language outside the examination room. To students with examinations behind them, I say “Take heart. When examinations come, can long holidays with no traffic jams be far behind?” Which reminds me “Lucas produces a completely pointless distributor.” How’s that for confused copywriter’s English?