Phase 1 Reflection
The first phase has drawn my attention to how language is powerfully connected to culture, story, memory, and more. Someone’s language is deeply embedded in their identity; it reveals who they are, lifeways, and the long history of people who lived, struggled, and passed their traditions down through time. Trying to silence that language means erasing the entire culture behind it.
Another important thing I learned was about society’s reaction and behavior toward language speakers. The idea that there is only one “correct” way to speak “standard English” -and that other forms are less valid reveals deep social problems like racism and classism. It shows how powerful group determines what is considered “right” or “wrong” for its own purposes. Because of that, people who speak with accent or who don’t speak “proper” English are often judged and treated as less intelligent or part of a lower class.
Through writing the assignment, I was able to deepen my understanding of how my past experiences with language shape the way I write. For example, because I grew up speaking Arabic and then learned English as a second language, I often think in both languages while writing. This shapes my sentence rhythm and sometimes makes my writing more expressive but still simple. I became more aware of my voice, tone, and the choices I make when I try to express my ideas in English. Writing helped me notice how my bilingual background influences not only my word choice but also the rhythm and emotion in my writing.
The concepts that impacted my writing the most were purpose and main argument. I realized that they almost shape everything I write—they help me organize ideas, choose the right tone, and make sure each paragraph supports the main message. Thinking about purpose guided me to focus on what I want readers to understand and learn from the reading.
Another concept that changed my writing was evidence. I learned that using examples, memories, or quotes from real conversations helps readers imagine the situations more clearly and feel emotionally connected. It allows them to see all sides of the story, not just my point of view.
Finally, audience played a major role in my growth as a writer. From our readings in the first phase, I learned how to shape my sentences and ideas to reach a specific audience. When I wrote my language and literacy narrative, I thought about readers who also learned English as a second language. I wanted my story to motivate them and show the emotions and inner dialogue I went through at each step. By doing that, I hoped to bring out experiences that other learners might relate to and feel understood by.
Bayan Demis
Professor Franco Russell
English 110-Freshman Composition
September 19th, 2025
A Voice in a New Language
I still remember when I was standing stressed on the stage, surrounded by hundreds of eyes staring at me, trying to reach the microphone that felt farther than closer to deliver my first ever English speech. In the midst of the noise and the large crowd, I could hear nothing but the beating of my heart, growing stronger and rising above all other sounds. A 13-year-old me making a brave move and challenging her language limits, whispering inside herself “you can do it” and I did it.
On one hot spring day, I sat tired and bored, counting the minutes left in the school day, thinking about the barbecue party that we are going to have in the coming weekend, and listening to my old teacher explain the history of agriculture during the last period of the day. Suddenly, the classroom door slowly opened. The scary principal, whose presence felt worse than a nightmare, entered with two other teachers. The whole class fell silent and the whispers about Billie Eilish’s new song “Bad Guy’ in the back stopped. I straightened my posture as she spoke in a firm voice: “How are you, students? I hope you are all paying attention to your teacher. I’m here to announce that next month we are having very important guests from the U.S. Embassy, and we are looking for good students to participate in the event.” Before leaving, she looked at my English teacher, who was standing behind her, and added, “Mrs. Jobran will be responsible for choosing participants, so if you are willing to join, speak to her.”
After the class, Mrs. Jobran called and proposed the idea to me and said, “I believe that you would be a good student to participate.” At first, her words felt too heavy for me. My English wasn’t perfect, and the idea of standing in front of embassy guests made my stomach turn, but then I agreed with a big hesitation. She smiled and told me that confidence and clarity are more important than perfection. At that time, I didn’t pay much attention to her words; I said to myself “بس لازم أكون مثالية” (“But I have to be perfect”). From that day, I started preparing; I spent hours memorizing the speech, practicing sentences in front of the mirror as if it were my audience. Whenever I struggled with a word, I circled it and practiced until it no longer felt intimidating.
The talk about the event was in every corner of the school. And the idea of presenting a welcoming speech in front of native English guests from the U.S. Embassy in Jordan gave me goosebumps. Looking back, I realize that speaking English wasn’t just about communication—it was about proving something. In my school, fluency in English was seen as a symbol of being educated and respected. We wanted to impress the guests from the U.S. Embassy because their language represented opportunity and success. It made me wonder why our value sometimes depends on how closely we sound to someone else’s version of “smart.” As a Middle Eastern student whose first language was Arabic and who lacked fluency in English, it felt more like jumping into deep water and learning to swim.
I admit that my experience with the English language over the past years wasn’t bad. In fact, English was never a struggle for me, since we had it as one class every day, while the rest of the subjects were taught in Arabic. But it was always a challenge, something I wanted to get better at, and something that inspired me because most of the successful people I admired could speak it, regardless of how I defined success.
A few days before the event, my anxiety kept growing stronger and stronger. I went to my English teacher’s office holding a paper of the presentation script. I read it out loud, but my voice was unsteadyand my hands felt tense. Some sentences looked fine on paper but sounded strange when I spoke them. It was like writing in English and speaking it were two very different things. She gave me a small smile and said I was doing fine, which helped me calm down a little.
The morning of the event felt different from any other school day. The sun was sharp, and the air was heavy. My eyes were puffy as I couldn’t sleep the night before. My classmates were excited, and my heart was beating loudly. When the guests from the U.S. Embassy arrived, the auditorium filled with an energy I had never experienced before, a mix of pride as well as curiosity. As my name was called, I stood in front of the microphone, and I felt as though the entire world was watching. I took a deep breath, reminded myself of the countless hours of practice, and began. At first, my voice quivered, but with each sentence, the fear started to dissolve. Honestly, I had an accent, but I still saw people nodding and smiling, and then when clapping started, my doubts disappeared.
That experience made me realize that the fear of having an accent is shaped by something larger than personal doubt—it is shaped by the way language and power intertwine. Many people try to conceal their accents because society often measures intelligence through the sound of one’s speech. We are taught that the closer we come to the “standard,” the more capable we appear. This belief makes people silence parts of themselves just to be accepted. It is a quiet irony that we praise diversity yet still expect uniformity in voice. An accent is not a flaw in expression; it is evidence of persistence, of the countless efforts to bridge one language with another.
After finishing the speech, I walked off the stage with shaky legs but a heart full of pride. I whispered to myself, “عملتها” (“I did it”). For the first time, I realized that perfection was never the goal, courage was. Being scared is what you experience when doing something you’re not familiar with. To conquer that fear, you have to be confident and take a chance on yourself. The claps weren’t just for my words, but for the effort, the hours of practice, and the bravery it took to stand there. That day, I discovered that language isn’t just about fluency; it’s about connection, confidence, and the voice you bring into it.
