OK, wait a minute?!?

Visiting my son in the T dot (as some refer to Toronto) this past weekend, he mentioned that many Canadian-born children of immigrant parents can't speak English. I scoffed and didn't buy it. Driving out this morning I heard the reality on CBC radio. Roughly one third of Canadian-born kids in Peel, for example, where the study had been conducted, have to avail themselves of ESL classes. Whaaaaaaaaat?!??!!$%^&*? Apparently, this is because another language is spoken exclusively in the home. That, coupled with the fact that the parents' satelite dish beams only native-tongue tv programs and news stations into the living room, means that these kids DON'T LEARN ENGLISH. In Canada. No English. In Canada. Bottom line is that you and I are paying for ESL for Canadian-born children to learn...............English! There is something very wrong about this.

I remember when new kids were introduced into the classroom back in the '50s. We were thrilled that "Otto" or "Maria" had arrived, but couldn't speak English. That meant one of us would be chosen to help them become "Canadian". The competition was fierce when the teacher would ask for a student to volunteer over the lunch hour or after school. All hands went up, jabbing and screaming to be chosen. We were filled with bursting pride when we were picked to take on the newcomer and help them learn to be "Canadian".

What a great solution. We were so proud to be Canadian and we were so proud to show these newcomers what a great life Canada offered. We didn't know this was what we were doing, of course. But the very fact we were sharing skipping ropes, jacks, marbles, hopscotch, bicycles and other joys meant we were introducing these kids to Canadian life. The child felt special and welcomed and we felt honoured to be helping them. No need for special teachers, no cost, no ghettos, nothing. In a few months, these kids were fluent and getting better marks than we. We looked up to them and were simply overjoyed to get to know someone from a "foreign" country. I remember one girl under my charge in grade seven. She was beautiful and when I went to her house after school, I discovered the joys of perogies and exotic soups conjured by her wonderful and mysterious mother. In fact, it was in one of those visist that I discovered garlic -- something my own mother would not use. Too "foreign" for her. Feature it.

Multi-culturalism is a booming failure.