Silence filled the car as we waited patiently for my brother to return from his treacherous mission.  I leaned back into the plush, heated, black leather seat.  I put my head to rest on the cold, condensation-filled windows, continuing to observe as the rain hammered the roof and the dark black asphalt outside.  I can recall the moment my father broke the silence.  Since I was a young child, he would frequently have small talk to remind me of important conventions of Math and English.  He called my name in a deep, Caribbean accent.  “Do you remember D common transition words used in English?”  He listed them one by one – moreover, nevertheless, however, furthermore, not only but also.  Annoyed by his mini-lecture for the thousandth time, I quickly mumbled “yes.”  As he observed the neighboring stores, he pointed to a sign that had the word “colour” on it.  “That is the proper way to spell colour, but they doesn’t teach allyuh that over here.”

You see, my father was born and raised on the beautiful island of Trinidad.  Education in Trinidad is based on the British education system, which is what he grew up in and is accustomed to.  Due to the shift between “European English” and “American English”, he doesn’t understand that different places may spell or pronounce the same English word in a different way.  I went on to explain this concept to him.  His reply was: “Alyuh young children does think you know it all.  Yuh fadda would never lead you wrong.”  This led me to a realization – his version of articulation is ingrained as a result of learning European English, and my view of articulation is a result of learning American English.