Poor, White, and Brown: Why Does 'Speech Impediment' Have a 'CH'??
Even though I realized for the first time that we were poor, my late elementary years for me were awesome. I hit all sides of the youth social triumvirate: I was intelligent, good at sports, and had girlfriends. Between the ages of 10 and 12 was honestly what I'd consider the most confident time of my life. I felt admired and felt like I could do anything.
There was, however, a main exception to my appearance of self-confidence. One day in fourth grade I was called out of class by a school staff member and was told I would start going to speech class for a few minutes each week. There were two other boys in there with me, and neither of them could make the 'r' sound correctly. They pronounced it like a 'w,' similar to the way small children do.
I always knew those two boys had a speech problem. I never knew that I did though. My problem was much different. My pronunciation issues were with the 'ch,' 'sh,' and 'tr' sounds. The last of those was a pretty big problem for a glaringly obvious reason: my own name begins with 'tr!' I wasn't in that boat alone because one of the other boys who couldn't make 'r' was unfortunate enough to have the name Brian. I'm sure the three of us sounded like a circle of idiots taking turns trying to say words that we couldn't pronounce properly.
I was lucky in that I was able to correct my 'tr' issues the very first speech session. The teacher taught me the correct way to do my mouth to make that sound. Before that I was pronouncing the 'tr' sound exactly like the 'ch' sound. That was an instant fix. At least, after that point, I'd be able to introduce myself correctly.
The worst part about the whole thing was that before these sessions started, I had no idea that I had a speech problem! It was obviously clear to everyone else in the world, but I never realized it and no one ever told me. I am very surprised that I don't have any memories of being made fun of about it by peers or siblings. I honestly have no idea of how I could have been a real life Donkeylips from Nickelodeon's Salute Your Shorts and didn't realize it. I clearly thought way too highly of myself to consider that possibility.
It was terribly embarrassing to have to go to those classes every week. My speech teacher, Ms. Bea, would tap on the door during my regular class and poke her head in to get my attention in front of everyone. Then I'd have to leave and go to her class and say 'ch' and 'sh' words out loud over and over. It was humiliating. I felt really ashamed and self-conscious about my speech problem for a long time after this.
In Ms. Bea's class, me and the two other boys had a routine we'd all have to go through. We'd practice breathing and mouth muscle exercises and do things like make an 'aaah' sound for as long as we could. Then we'd always do the part we all hated. We'd have to take turns pronouncing out loud problem words for us based on pictures on flash cards Ms. Bea would hold up. Each word-pronounced incorrectly-was a vocal reminder to ourselves and the others that our speech problems were very real and were very obvious to everyone. We all hated this part of class.
Being slyly rebellious by nature, I got defensive. Each time she held up a card, I'd try to come up with an alternate word that didn't have my problem sounds. Here are some examples of some of the pictures on the cards and some of my exchanges with Ms. Bea (her reactions may be partially made up):
Chocolate
Me: Candy
Ms. Bea: What kind of candy?
Me: Brown candy?
Ms. Bea: You know what word I'm looking for.
Me: [sad face, looking down with a mumble] Chocolate
Chair
Me: Stool.
Ms. Bea: Also known as a...
Me: Sitting thing?
Ms. Bea: [losing patience] Tell me the word, Chravis.
Me: [looking sad again] Ok. Chair.
Chain
Me: Metal thing.
Ms. Bea: We don't have all day. Say the word.
Me: [sad face again] Chain.
Chicken
Me: I know this one! Bird!
Ms. Bea: Very funny.
Me: Poultry! Look, I can do my 'tr's!' You fixed me!
Ms. Bea: You're not even close to being fixed. What's on the card?
Me: [looking down at feet] Chicken.
Church
Me: Building.
Ms. Bea: You know what I'm looking for. C'mon, it has a cross, a steeple...
Me: [totally defeated and dejected] Church.
Seriously?! One of the words for me was 'church?' That's a cruel joke. Every time I had to say it I felt like an idiot sandwiched between those dreadful sounds. It became one of my least favorite words in the English language. Right along with 'speech' and 'flash card.' I really felt like calling her a 'B-----' when she held that card up, but I didn't really cuss and I couldn't even say that word right anyways.
These stupid lessons went on for a year or two with very slow progress. Glacial speed. That words fits, but I wouldn't have had the confidence to say it. It felt like every word I came across after that had either a 'ch' or an 'sh' in it. And now that I knew my problem, I hated all those words. I really did try to come up with alternate words for may of them, but that's not always easy. I could call speech class 'talking class,' but, I mean, what could I call cheese? Pressed curds?
All humor aside, this really became a deep source of embarrassment for me. Thank goodness the 'tr' sound came easily, and the 'ch' sound even slowly got better over the year or two I spend in that class. The 'sh' sound was a much more difficult fix, and I honestly feel self conscious today sometimes with certain 'sh' words. At least I can look back at that humiliating chapter in my adolescent life now with a smile. I'm grateful that I was able to correct my issues, but I hated the process. Though I guess that is much of life, isn't it?
There was, however, a main exception to my appearance of self-confidence. One day in fourth grade I was called out of class by a school staff member and was told I would start going to speech class for a few minutes each week. There were two other boys in there with me, and neither of them could make the 'r' sound correctly. They pronounced it like a 'w,' similar to the way small children do.
I always knew those two boys had a speech problem. I never knew that I did though. My problem was much different. My pronunciation issues were with the 'ch,' 'sh,' and 'tr' sounds. The last of those was a pretty big problem for a glaringly obvious reason: my own name begins with 'tr!' I wasn't in that boat alone because one of the other boys who couldn't make 'r' was unfortunate enough to have the name Brian. I'm sure the three of us sounded like a circle of idiots taking turns trying to say words that we couldn't pronounce properly.
I was lucky in that I was able to correct my 'tr' issues the very first speech session. The teacher taught me the correct way to do my mouth to make that sound. Before that I was pronouncing the 'tr' sound exactly like the 'ch' sound. That was an instant fix. At least, after that point, I'd be able to introduce myself correctly.
It was terribly embarrassing to have to go to those classes every week. My speech teacher, Ms. Bea, would tap on the door during my regular class and poke her head in to get my attention in front of everyone. Then I'd have to leave and go to her class and say 'ch' and 'sh' words out loud over and over. It was humiliating. I felt really ashamed and self-conscious about my speech problem for a long time after this.
In Ms. Bea's class, me and the two other boys had a routine we'd all have to go through. We'd practice breathing and mouth muscle exercises and do things like make an 'aaah' sound for as long as we could. Then we'd always do the part we all hated. We'd have to take turns pronouncing out loud problem words for us based on pictures on flash cards Ms. Bea would hold up. Each word-pronounced incorrectly-was a vocal reminder to ourselves and the others that our speech problems were very real and were very obvious to everyone. We all hated this part of class.
Being slyly rebellious by nature, I got defensive. Each time she held up a card, I'd try to come up with an alternate word that didn't have my problem sounds. Here are some examples of some of the pictures on the cards and some of my exchanges with Ms. Bea (her reactions may be partially made up):
Chocolate
Me: Candy
Ms. Bea: What kind of candy?
Me: Brown candy?
Ms. Bea: You know what word I'm looking for.
Me: [sad face, looking down with a mumble] Chocolate
Chair
Me: Stool.
Ms. Bea: Also known as a...
Me: Sitting thing?
Ms. Bea: [losing patience] Tell me the word, Chravis.
Me: [looking sad again] Ok. Chair.
Chain
Me: Metal thing.
Ms. Bea: We don't have all day. Say the word.
Me: [sad face again] Chain.
Chicken
Me: I know this one! Bird!
Ms. Bea: Very funny.
Me: Poultry! Look, I can do my 'tr's!' You fixed me!
Ms. Bea: You're not even close to being fixed. What's on the card?
Me: [looking down at feet] Chicken.
Church
Me: Building.
Ms. Bea: You know what I'm looking for. C'mon, it has a cross, a steeple...
Me: [totally defeated and dejected] Church.
Seriously?! One of the words for me was 'church?' That's a cruel joke. Every time I had to say it I felt like an idiot sandwiched between those dreadful sounds. It became one of my least favorite words in the English language. Right along with 'speech' and 'flash card.' I really felt like calling her a 'B-----' when she held that card up, but I didn't really cuss and I couldn't even say that word right anyways.
These stupid lessons went on for a year or two with very slow progress. Glacial speed. That words fits, but I wouldn't have had the confidence to say it. It felt like every word I came across after that had either a 'ch' or an 'sh' in it. And now that I knew my problem, I hated all those words. I really did try to come up with alternate words for may of them, but that's not always easy. I could call speech class 'talking class,' but, I mean, what could I call cheese? Pressed curds?
All humor aside, this really became a deep source of embarrassment for me. Thank goodness the 'tr' sound came easily, and the 'ch' sound even slowly got better over the year or two I spend in that class. The 'sh' sound was a much more difficult fix, and I honestly feel self conscious today sometimes with certain 'sh' words. At least I can look back at that humiliating chapter in my adolescent life now with a smile. I'm grateful that I was able to correct my issues, but I hated the process. Though I guess that is much of life, isn't it?
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