How Good is Your English?
When I moved to Martinique in August of 2014 to work as an English Language Assistant (ELA), I thought that my biggest hurdle would be trying to master the French language. Little did I know that it would be my English language skills that would face constant scrutiny.
My first academic year in Martinique, I was assigned to both a primary school and a college in the north of the island.
At orientation, I met one of my supervisors (known as a tuteur or tutrice in French), José. (He was, and still is, just the absolute best! I really couldn’t have asked for a better supervisor throughout my time at that college.)
Since the primary school supervisor never showed up for orientation or answered any of my phone calls or responded to my emails, I was told that I should head to the school, on my own, to formally introduce myself.
The two-hour journey consisted of a very hot and very uncomfortable taxico ride, which initiated my love-hate relationship for this mode of transportation that I unfortunately had to use quite frequently throughout my three years on the island.
Taxicos (short for taxis collectifs in French) are minivans which can transport about 10 to 12 people at a time. They mostly run in rural areas and rarely follow a set bus schedule since many of the drivers will only start their journey once the minivan is completely full.
I cannot tell you the number of times that I have had to sit and wait on a hot and stuffy taxico for over an hour, in the middle of Fort-de-France, just because the driver refused to leave until someone occupied the last remaining seat.
But I digress.
When I finally got to the school’s reception area, I had to try my best not to hurl while asking to speak with my elusive supervisor.
I was directed to a classroom and realised that he was in the middle of a lesson. So, I just stood there, at the door, until he noticed me.
He was obviously quite bewildered, since he had no idea who I was. I had to quickly explain that I would be his ELA for this academic year.
Without missing a beat, he let me know that he did not plan on working with a language assistant that year, and so, I would have to be responsible for sorting myself out once he set up my schedule.
It only took me a few seconds to deduce that I was persona non grata.
Unsurprisingly, this would be the last time that I ever laid eyes on this man.
I swear that his name and face remain a mystery to me till this day.
What I do remember from that day, however, is the reaction from his students when he informed them that I was the school’s new ELA and that I was from Saint Lucia.
“But, sir, don’t Saint Lucians only speak Creole?” shouted one stunned little girl.
“Uh…no! Just like you, we speak two languages.” I quickly responded with a face that most certainly read: “Seriously?”
Saint Lucia is only a 15-minute flight away from Martinique. How could these students not know that English is our official language?
Soon after I started teaching in Martinique, I learnt that the French Education System (or l’Education nationale) didn’t prioritise learning about anyone or anything that didn’t have a direct impact on The Hexagon or The European Union.
I swear to you that the majority of students at all three of the schools that I worked at throughout my three years there, couldn’t name, identify or locate any of the other Caribbean islands that make up the archipelago on a map of the region, apart from Guadeloupe, of course.
Even more surprising was that my primary school and university students in mainland France couldn’t identify Martinique, Guadeloupe or French Guiana on a map of the world. Some were even quite shocked to learn that they were located in the Caribbean since they just always assumed that all of the French Overseas Departments, Territories and Collectivities were located somewhere in or around Africa.
The teacher apologised to me and informed me that this was the first time that the students had been introduced to not only a Language Assistant from Saint Lucia, but also one from the Caribbean, and most certainly, a Black one.
To be quite honest, I wasn’t surprised by this revelation since 95% — and that’s me being quite generous — of the language assistants that I had encountered at the training sessions, were white.
It didn’t matter if they were from Spain, The UK, The USA, Canada or Brazil, they were, for the most part, all white!
Needless to say, I was clearly in the minority while working as an ELA on a predominantly Black Caribbean island. This meant that my so-called peers believed that I was Martinican, even when I stated that I was from Saint Lucia, since many just assumed that I was referring to the town and commune of Sainte-Luce, which is located to the south of Martinique.
No one could wrap their heads around how someone who looked so “local” could be a native English speaker.
Worst yet, my students would ask if Saint Lucian English could be understood by the British since we’re from the Caribbean.
To that I would rudely respond: “Well, do people from mainland France understand you when you speak French?”
That’s when the wheels in their head would quickly start turning and make them realise just how ridiculous of a question that was.
Clearly, I am aware that they are just products of the French Education System. However, I couldn’t help but feel offended by that perpetual line of questioning from people who grew up on a former European colony, just like me.
Especially since I was highly aware of the criticisms that other language assistants, especially Anglophone ones, made about the locals’ French proficiency.
Every year, like clockwork, a group of English Language Assistants (mostly from the USA) would openly and repeatedly complain about how difficult it was for them to understand the Martinican accent since they were only used to the accent of “authentic French speakers” and/or teachers and lecturers who had spent time in mainland France.
How were they supposed to improve their French skills if these people couldn’t speak “real French”?
It was all so comical!
Martinicans and Americans were going around judging everyone’s language competency (based on their race, country of origin and accent) without ever taking the time to realise that they come from lands that were also once colonised by European powers.
Taking the time to explain this to them was always a losing battle!
All in all, I am quite happy that I took part in the programme because I learnt so much about the French Caribbean, all while sharing my unique culture, language and traditions with students who hopefully can now locate Saint Lucia, and maybe even Dominica, on a map.
Working in Martinique made me realise just how much of a mystery that we (i.e. The Anglophone, Francophone, Spanish-speaking and Dutch-speaking Caribbean) remain to each other!
I truly hope that more and more Anglophone Caribbean students, especially those who study French at The University of the West Indies, make the decision to apply for the ELA programme in the French Caribbean, even though I know that you are most certainly going to get more likes posting a selfie in front of La tour Eiffel than in front of La tour Lumina on Instagram!
If you are a former or current French student, between the ages of 20 and 30, who is interested in finding out more about the ELA programme, please click here!