This first-person article is the experience of Alvin Ma, a second-generation Canadian Chinese. For more information on CBC first-person stories, see the FAQ.
I tried to avoid eye contact and sink into the chair, but it didn’t work. It was the start of my 4th grade school year and for the fourth year in a row, I was called by my name to receive “additional English instruction”.
It didn’t matter that I could fully understand the Guinness Book of Records I bought at the School Book Fair or read the Vancouver Sun sports section every morning. He was returning to ESL.
I was born in Canada and grew up speaking English with my parents. My mother, who was born in China, emigrated to Canada as a high school student and my father, also an immigrant from Hong Kong in the 1970s, taught English cooking classes. However, my grandparents and other older family members did not speak English fluently and at home they spoke predominantly Cantonese.
That’s why my parents pointed to Cantonese as the most spoken language at home when I filled out my public school enrollment form.
It is also the reason why we believe I was placed in English Learning (ESL) classes even though I was born in Canada and spoke English fluently.
Alvin Ma’s 3rd grade report card shows that he received ESL support while participating in enrichment activities. (Submitted by Alvin Ma)
I have no negative memories of these ESL classes or the teachers themselves.
But as a child, being placed in these classes made me feel less than a full-fledged Canadian.
I just wanted to be treated like “CBC” (Canadian-born Chinese) classmates who didn’t require these ESL classes. Some of these students occasionally flaunted their English skills and mocked those who were perceived as “recent from the ship.” I don’t remember making fun of people, but I do remember wanting to prove that I was better than others in English, thinking that a superior understanding of the language would make me somehow more “Canadian”.
Although I secretly found 90s Cantonese pop songs like 每天 愛 你 多 一些 and Sugar in the Marmalade sticky, I listened to Shania Twain. I unfailingly watched all the night hockey broadcasts in Canada. Twenty-two years before Interpretation of Simu Liu at the Juno Awards, I was able to effortlessly recite the “I AM CANADIAN“he said in his entirety.
I distanced myself from my Chinese heritage and intentionally failed assessments at the Chinese school to prove that I was more Canadian than Chinese. My mother knew I would only speak English to her, and there was an unspoken understanding that she would only speak English to me when she came to my school to pick me up.
Alvin Ma’s report card for a Cantonese heritage language course shows his qualifications. (Submitted by Alvin Ma)
When I asked my mom if it seemed weird to be placed in ESL for so many years, she shrugged.
Given that my grandparents supervised me during weekdays, my parents reasoned that “additional English teaching” would help my long-term education.
Then, one day and without any explanation, they put me in the usual stream of 5th graders. My student record simply indicated that my ESL status had been removed from the list. I felt relieved, but I remained aware of my pronunciation of the words and tried to avoid a stutter that would qualify me as anything but a Canadian born in Canada.
Years after I graduated, my elementary school faced complaints that explained it falsely inflated the number of English students to get more public funding.
Alvin Ma, third from the right, poses with his family to mark his graduation from the University of British Columbia. (Submitted by Alvin Ma)
As an adult, I now know that neither my fluency in Cantonese nor the perceived accent make me less Canadian. Years of academic research and presentations made me a confident speaker on topics related to multiculturalism.
But I hadn’t really considered the impact of these English classes until I met a 10-year-old student through a tutoring job. When her mother left the room, she said these farewell words: “你 需要 努力 ， 進步 你 的 英文 分” (you have to work hard to improve your English grade).
He replied indignantly in English, “Stop bothering me in Chinese if you want me to get better!”
That student was a mirror of my younger self: a second-generation Canadian who desperately tried to demonstrate his fluency in English by avoiding Chinese.
Although I wanted to avoid confrontation, I took my courage. I told him — and by extension my younger self — that knowledge of another language is a strength; it is not a shame to hide. My student nodded, but if my journey is an indicator, it may take many years to understand my message. I just hope the message finally arrives.
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