Letter to the Editor

To the editor of the Thx for the IView! I Wud ♥ to Work 4 U!! ;) article, Sarah E. Needleman, I would like to highlight that it is quite ordinary for most college students to feel somewhat ecstatic and appreciative after enduring a successful interview. Therefore, from their perspective, it is not a major concern to use text-speech to express great thanks to the interviewer who made it possible for them to attain their desired job. It is a simple demonstration of gratitude. Young people find it completely normal to write in an informal way of English within technology or social media. Therefore, for those interviewers or "formal" adults that seem to get offended by it, they should not, as it is a part of those students' daily language. On the other hand, I do agree with your point of view to an extent that text-speech should be specifically used in the appropriate place and time. It should not go as far as to casually sending Facebook messages and using abbreviations to thank interviewers, or any strangers in fact. It should be emphasized that formal and professional English should be used within conversations taken with those that are important to one's education and profession. Social media and its "language" should be used personally within closer relationships, away from professional work. Nevertheless, what I am striving to elucidate is that as the generations proceed and the years progress, this so-called issue involving using text-speech, will only become "worse". Therefore, as a logical solution, using such way of speaking should be accepted because it is the most comfortable way for young people to communicate, considering that they should speak as they write. Social media and texting overall has become an important part of everyone's life, young and old, that cannot be ignored or abandoned. It is not terrible to communicate in such way, because when looking into text-speech studies, there are many positives that include: the frequency of communication, broadening vocabulary, leading to higher literacy scores, and its emergent complexity.

Bob Marley

Dear Diary

It was September 23^th, 1980 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the Stanley Theatre. Bob Marley had been wildly rehearsing for that day's concert, not knowing that it would be his final one. A week prior to this concert, I had been incessantly calling in hopes of arranging an interview. I had interviewed many well-known musicians like Michael Jackson, Madonna, Whitney Houston, and bands like the Bees Gees; Bob Marley was next on my list. I had always been connected to the relaxation and optimism portrayed within his music. Luckily, since the Stanley Theatre was near our recording studio, he had agreed that after his concert he would drop by to execute a short interview.

The night before as well as the entire next day, I was fretfully producing a script that would hopefully impress him or at least make him feel content. The last thing I wanted was for him to sense that I was a mad or psycho fan of his, even though in reality I was (oops). My level of excitement was uncontrollably rising and sinking. But eventually it all had turned into panic; nerve-wracking questions began dashing through my head: "Will I be able to understand him? Can I ask him about his illness? What about Jamaican politics? Ooh I need to research about that. Wait…is it rude to ask for a photo with him?"

I rose up to slightly adjust the heavy shoulder pads of my jet black blazer, and heard the loud creak of the front door opening. My heart sank. There he was standing there; he was slim. His worn out dreads extended down to his elbows, with a bright yellow and orange knitted cap drooping to his left side. His dark glossy eyes, immediately delivered the expression that "can we please get this started already". In return, I revealed a grin and burst out a loud welcome. It almost felt like the building shook from my excited/nervous/happy reaction. I extended my right arm, and blurted, "Welcome Bob Marley, please have a seat". I had polished the recording area beforehand, with the microphones ready to record.

At this time, he had loosened up a bit and taken a good look around the room.

I let out an "hmm" to break the silence and stuttered: "we are going to start recording in 3, 2, 1."

"Greetings fellow radio listeners; today we have Bob Marley in our studios, here to talk to you about his music. It is a great honor to have you here with us."

He smiled soothingly and nodded, "thank you for having me."

"To begin with, can you explain to us what Reggae music is?"

In his Jamaican accent, he addressed, "It is as simple as music with a message that originated from my home country in Jamaica. Elements of rock and soul music are visible within the moderate tempos."

"Would you ever think of trying or maybe even experimenting with other music perhaps?"

He adjusted his hat, and confessed, "Although I enjoy other music, I am most comfortable with Reggae music, as it defines who I am and empowers me to spread my global message."

"Can you please explain to our listeners today about the global message that you are spreading through your reggae music."

"I believe that it is important to spread the Rastafari movement against oppression, exploitation, and racism; for it not to be judged or discriminated against. This also goes for other religions and races. I greatly use the theme of war to stress on human rights issues, as I consider it is to be one of the world's most disastrous matter. More so, I have great faith in the idea that one's journey to find joy is through great positivity; liberate yourself from mental slavery! 'Jah' is the representation of goodness and love; it lives in you!"

"How do you use figurative language within your music?

"I mainly focus on the use of metaphors, specifically metaphors of oppression and freedom, such as chains and birds, in which portray social problems and ways of emancipation.”

"Last but not least, do you believe that your empowering message will live on for the next 50 years?"

"In fact, I do believe so; my message is very special and through my music, I have voiced all Jamaican people's interest in regards to spreading their message of struggle, across the globe. I have faith that the power and spirit that is within it will live very long. I believe that this mesmeric beat will lead further generations in the struggle for the Jamaican people's independence and the formulation of their unique identity."

Fascinated by his strong and inspiring words, I instantly came back to life and announced, "And with that ladies and gentlemen, we are done. Thank you for tuning in. Have a great evening!"

Memoir

It was the night of July 1st, 2011. The air was thick with hanging dew. I gaze vacantly out of the blue-glossy window, locked into the deadening greys of the outside world, and puzzled about what my future holds. Tick tock, tick tock; with every metallic click, my breath grew heavier. It was 11:00pm; 5 hours from our 16-hour flight to London, Ontario, Canada. Frustration built up, sparking all happy thoughts to clog, like a dammed river trying to escape its prison; "How am I supposed to make Canadian friends when I am Arab?" "How will I speak to them in my pathetic Middle-Eastern English?" "How will my mother even interact with anyone, not knowing how to speak any English?" I wandered over to the other side of the room, where my younger brother was lounging and stared into his silver grey eyes with distress and sighed, "Hey, are you ready for this huge change?" Unlike myself, he was ecstatic and joyful. He responded with thrill, "Yeah, I can't wait! Imagine all the new people we will meet, and the intriguing adventures we will have". With hope, I walked up to my little white board to unleash my worries, and with a red marker, I began to write in my 5^th grade language:

"On Saturday, 2/7/2011 is our big day going to Canada. I can't wait for that and I will miss all my friends and people. I hope everything is good. Inshallah I have fun. Inshallah. Love Deema."

After living for two months in London, Ontario, Canada, and engaging in minimal interaction with anyone, school season begun. The morning of September 6^th, 2011, I tucked in my white blouse into my red plaid skirt and adjusted the green blazer against my shoulders, while tightening my striped tie, and dressed into my black polished flats. I lifted the strap of my blue pack bag and was ready to head to 'Matthews Hall Private School', my new middle school for three years. I entered the small elegant school with purity, shyness, and tension, while negative thoughts were roaming through my head, without an exit. But in that moment that I was about to line up in the back with all the other 6^th graders, I let out a deep sigh and regulated a huge smile on my face to give a positive first impression of myself. A short girl with long golden blond hair, and big cerulean blue eyes approached me and introduced herself; "Hi! I'm Heather," she actively powerfully announced. "And I am Deema," I answered with pleasure. "Nice to meet you! See you around!" she ran back to the front of the line.

Two periods passed by, and in both classes, I introduced myself by telling my name and revealing where I was from. My classmates were all from London, Ontario, Canada. It was unusual for the school to receive any international students. But this only amused them; during recess, I was flooded with questions from Heather and her friends Emma, Kayla, and Christine, about my Arab accent and language, cultural background, and personal history. I told them all about code-switching and how I communicated with both English and Arabic with my friends back in the UAE. This really interested them as most of them lived in a monolingual community. In addition, I went on about the diversity contained in my international school in terms of having a wide range of nationalities. Moreover, since Matthews Hall School was very small with only 300 students, they were amused that Choueifat had over 2000 students and a huge campus. Such details marked our differences, but only made us closer as individuals. As time passed, and as I graduated middle school and entered into high school, I easily adapted to the Canadian lifestyle that commonly included speaking the accent and saying stereotypical words such as 'eh' and 'soory' (sorry). It really felt like home. My personality was positively impacted as I gained more confidence with my English and overall speaking and presenting in class. I managed to separate my Canadian English and Middle-Eastern English, as well as my Arabic. My mother, who suffered with speaking English managed to take English lessons and succeed in it. However despite learning English, she sacrificed it and still spoke to us in Arabic at home, for my brother and I not to lose our Arabic, while my dad spoke to us in English. This created harmony between both languages and for us to not lose one or the other.

After four successful years of learning Canadian English and becoming a proud Canadian citizen, it was time to return to the UAE given that my dad had received his job back in Abu Dhabi. Without realizing that I have adjusted to the Canadian way of speaking, I returned to the UAE feeling disconnected from everyone, similar to the first day in Canada; I was struggling to speak the "Middle-Eastern English" that I always used to speak with. Within last year, I had enough time to alter to my friends' way of speaking, and can now communicate in both Canadian and Middle-Eastern English, as well as Arabic, while code-switching too. Change can always be for the best, and as Fred DeVito said: "if it doesn’t challenge you, it won't change you." 

                    Writing on the white board, before travelling.