Speaking British

Our multilingual kiddos, are of course, fluent in English but can also conduct slow, simple conversations in Mandarin. How old are you? What grade are you in? What country do you come from? Are all queries they can handle in Chinese.

What we hadn't realized is that they are equally fluent in "British." They put their rubbish in the dust bin, write with marking pens, and pull their uniform jumpers on in the morning along with their trousers. (Pants are in fact "underpants" when speaking British, so they have those on as well!) I now much prefer to offer the girls a lollipop... or simply a lolly (the word sucker makes me cringe as it sounds somehow especially uncouth!) We take holidays (not vacations) and stand in queues instead of lines. We routinely find words like lovely, bit, and pardon sprinkled into our daily lexicon.

Last month, we were sitting on tiny child-sized chairs in Eliza's classroom for the Parent/Teacher Interview (or, what we from the Midwestern United States would call a good old fashioned conference.) In her lovely accented English the teacher introduced her self and then said, "And you are Eliza's mum and dad are you?" There was that sly little "u" that transforms plain old mom into something slightly more formal and far less colloquial. (That pesky "u" shows up other places when conversing in British: in colour and favourite for example.)

"Yes, Yes, Quite right, do pass the scones," we were tempted to say. It feels very nice in fact to carry on in proper Queen's English. How flash are we? Very high brow!

We talked about Literacy and Maths (it took sometime for us to recognize that Maths was in fact not a typo, but the preferred term for Mathematics when speaking British.) She discussed the marks (not grades) that Eliza had achieved in both.

"And her connected writing is coming along quite nicely," the teacher remarked. I believe I have a sample for you. Connected writing... I had yet to hear this British term, but proceeded to smile and nod. All British mums would for sure know this, I chided myself.

Out pops the writing sample and then it clicks in my mind, and I am proud of myself that I finally, though just now, understood her meaning. But just as I was priding myself on being as proper as a British mum, Sean has his, "aha" moment. The light bulb clicked in his mind just a moment too late.

"Oh..." he says, betraying our Americaness, "you mean cursive."

Connecting writing of course makes more sense... as the letters are of course connected. But cursive, that beautiful, fluid slanted writing that I can still remember my own primary teacher slowly and carefully creating on the blackboard with a flourish of chalk still seems the right name. And for all the wonderful terms the British like to fiddle with (fiddle I'm sure is never used in American English outside of the context of the musical instrument played in our nation's deep south)I'm not so willing to quickly part ways with cursive.

Blimey! It makes me cross. Connected writing then is rot. Into the rubbish bin you!