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Paula Marie Celine M. Molina

COM 110.7

My parents were very adamant on teaching me how to speak in

Filipino first before learning how to speak in English and this worked out
well for me as it became easy for me to speak in both languages
comfortably and in long periods of time. I assumed they wanted to do the
same with my younger brother but unfortunately, I had a habit of watching
English shows with him and this resulted in my brother learning English
first and quite frankly, refusing to speak in Filipino until it became
necessary for him once he entered the Ateneo. Effectively, I grew up as his
unofficial translator; I was the bridge between him and his bottle of milk
when he was hungry, I was the one who answered our aunts and uncles who
couldnt (or rather, refused to) understand him when he was speaking in
English. At such a young age, I understood what frustrations a language
barrier could bring; as much as my brother wanted to play with our cousins,
he couldnt do so properly unless I was with him and there was always
hesitation on the part of our cousins as well, he couldnt express his wants
properly to a few of our yayas growing up and this was obviously very
difficult for our yayas who wanted nothing more than to give him what he
wanted at the time. While my brother has now learned to speak in Filipino,

it is still with a rather awkward accent brought about by the initial

dominant language.
Grade school and high school was a frustrating experience as Ive
always preferred to speak in English and I was made fun of by my
classmates because of this. They would always cry out nakaka-nosebleed
ka naman, Paula whenever I would speak in English or mock me with the
accent I supposedly had when I spoke but my confidence never wavered
and I would constantly recite in all my classes, regardless of the language
we had to use. In college, I learned to miss my Filipino-speaking classmates
as I became surrounded by constant Ingliseros and Ingliseras. The
curses I used to say (without the presence of our teachers and nuns, of
course) back in high school changed from pakshet to oh fucking hell and
stories that used to start with may kwento ako!!! became oh my god
something happened. It was a strange adjustment to say the least, but
being in the Ateneo made me realize how much I loved speaking both
languages fluently and constantly.
This summer, I was able to finish two internships, one with Erik Matti
for Reality Films and the other with The Movie and Television Review and
Classification Board. My most significant learning for those two internships
was this: always be kind and friendly to the manangs who cook and clean,
the manong guards and the kuya drivers. I was the only intern for those two
companies at the time, and befriending with the manongs and manangs was

the best decision I made; they saw to it that I was adjusting well to the new
environments I was in, always made sure that my time-ins and outs were
correct and they kept me safe whenever I had to commute to unknown
places for an errand or other. Obviously, with the manongs and manangs, I
shifted to speaking in Filipino and I was glad to find out that despite initially
stereotyping me as the Inglisera Atenean, they became comfortable
enough to befriend me once they realized that I was equally comfortable in
speaking the language they used daily. Of course, when dealing with the
Board of Directors, Producers, and other clients, I would shift back to
English with the same ease.
Still though, the shifts we make between English and Filipino,
whether in simple language, attitude, preference or body language, is an
interesting ability that we forget to take note of. Only when forced to
actually think about it do we realize how fascinating our bilingual (or
perhaps even more, for those of us who speak different dialects) affects our
sense of humor and sensibilities.