Another season of Masterchef is over. I sort of follow each season not because I have any
intentions of putting my latent culinary skills (if any) to the test some day, but because I feel
intensely for the contestants. Theirs is a performative act carried out in the glare of publicity
in white heat in a culinary crucible as the clock ticks away remorselessly.
Additionally, I doff my hat to aspiring Masterchefs for their sheer ingenuity, versatility and
artistry that they bring to the gastronomic creations which they may never have attempted
before. Perhaps the strongest reason for the show being so riveting for me is this: the
contestants hail from variegated backgrounds and boast differing ethnicities, truly a
tapestry of talents in the quest to titillate the senses of the judges.
In the recently concluded season, there was as usual a tinker-tailor-soldier line-up of
contestants: tattoo artist, kindergarten teacher, pastor, medical student, lawyer,
pharmacist. Just as diverse was their ethnicity – Sri Lankan, Indian, Bangladeshi,
Vietnamese, Chinese, Anglos, and more. Whoever and whatever they are, they share a
common denominator – a flair for cooking – and must meet only one criterion: their
concoctions must not only visually excite, but also please the judges’ palates. In the just
concluded season, former Hillsong youth pastor Justin Narayan (of Fijian-Indian heritage)
took the first spot, followed by self-taught cook Pete Campbell (a tattoo artist) and Kishwar
Chowdhury (a business person of Bangladeshi heritage). Unsurprisingly, Justin and Kishwar
were just at home with Western fare as they were in delivering their own ethnic dishes with
aplomb.
Which brings me to my point. As far as culinary virtuosity goes, it does not matter who the
chef is, their colour or background. It simply boils down to their honing their ability to a fine
art. Witness the number of Australian chefs who now regularly share their recipes on how
to do char kway teow (a Singapore-Malaysian hawker food favourite) and other Asian dishes
on television, in newspapers, magazines and cook books. Does anyone bat an eye-lid over
such an audacious attempt at doing char kway teow? Getting this fried rice noodle dish just
right is akin to finding the holy grail of hawker food. In Singapore, the hawker bent over the
flaming wood fire and wok serves up nothing but char kway teow over many decades, day
and night, seven days a week. I used to watch them in action as a kid. It looks simple, but it
is anything but that. Well, nobody really minds this Australian encroachment into hallowed
char kway teow territory. I only wish people would apply the same criteria to the teaching of
English in Australia. The only thing that should count is the ability to deliver the final product
and which, of course, must meet agreed expectations all round.
In this country, I seem to get the sense that non-whites, generally speaking, do not seem to
be regarded on a par with their white counterparts in teaching English as a first language. Is
this just a figment of my imagination? Or, is there a big chip on my shoulder? Well, I have
first-hand experience of this linguistic bias gleaned over three decades of living in Australia,
working in the media here, and later running my own English tutoring school for more than
two decades. At our tutoring school, English lessons for year 5 to year 12 students are
taught at first-language level. Although the overwhelming majority of students are
Australian-born from non-white backgrounds attending state, Christian, selective, and
private schools, they are equally fluent in the language as their white Australian
counterparts. Yet they seek to ace their English exams by coming to our school. For their
parents, only results matter. Nothing more, nothing less. Just as in Masterchef, the final
product must satisfy the judges no matter the background of the contestant. So, too, at our
school. Our mix of teachers (whites and non-whites) must be able to deliver effective
English lessons to a standard set by our school. Before they come on board, they have to
pass an English test, whatever their background and qualifications.
But in the more than two decades that our school has been around, there were a number of
instances which confirm my niggling suspicion that white Australians, school teachers
included, as well as some Asian parents are still somewhat dubious about our competency
to teach English as a first language.
CASE 1: A well-credentialled woman working for a university called at our office just to point
out that the word ‘variegated’ was incorrectly used in our brochure. I had used the word to
describe my background, which I was absolutely certain was correctly used, and so had to
disabuse her of her impression.
CASE 2: A man called at our office to point out that it was incorrect to pluralise ‘skill’ which
was used as part of our A-board text (as in English skills). He insisted that the word did not
take a plural form.
CASE 3: Over the years, our students never failed to give us feedback that their teachers told
them not to begin a sentence with the subordinating conjunction “because” as in Because
he woke up late, he missed the bus. The reason: It was not good English, it was incorrect,
and so on … so goes the feedback. But this complex sentence is an instance of sentential
inversion which is perfectly fine in English, as is demonstrated in a similar sentence,
Although he woke up late, he didn’t miss the bus. However, the latter sentence is readily
accepted by those teachers. Interestingly, the two sentences are mirror images of one
another except that the former is in the positive, the latter, negative. Yet their teachers
proscribe the writing of sentences starting with ‘because’ but approve sentences with initial
‘although’. Students are also told a sentence starting with ‘but’ is a no-no. These are
constructions which I have often encourage students to introduce in their writing. Often, I
gathered that the teachers would ask their students who had taught them to write in such a
manner. Could their objections have something to do with my background? I wonder. Sadly,
our students begin to question whether they have been taught the language right at our
school.
CASE 4: The most egregious episode of how a non-white is less than fairly judged on their
English ability was exemplified thus: Many students over the years were wont to write, The
writer utilises the word… instead of The writer uses the word… I pointed out to them that
there was quite a nuanced semantic difference between use and utilise. One student raised
the matter with his teacher who still insisted that utilise was correctly used in the context
cited earlier. When the student brought it to my attention, I decided to furnish ample
linguistic proof of the incorrect use of utilise. When the student attempted to show the
proof to his teacher, he first inquired about my background, and on learning that I was
Asian, he peremptorily dismissed the matter, and the wad of linguistic evidence was
promptly consigned to the trash bin.
CASE 5: Now and then, some Asian parents would insist that their children be taught by
white teachers at our tutoring school. It is common knowledge that this bias is also
prevalent in Hongkong , Taiwan, Japan, South Korea and mainland China.
CASE 6: Whenever I mention to a white that I am running an English tutoring school, the
unvarying response is: “How do your students from Asia cope with learning English?”
Implicated in such a response is that the students are non-native speakers who have come
to Australia to learn English.
If you consider the above a litany, I dare say that my enumerations have hardly scratched
the surface. These cases have simply confirmed my suspicion that many whites as well as
people of other colour regard competency in teaching English as synonymous with the
colour of one’s skin. One must preferably or perforce be white. This is rather unfortunate.
Perhaps, an episode which a Singaporean couple once shared with me would help put the
matter in perspective. He was an Englishman, a professor of medicine at the local university,
and she, a well-educated Singaporean. On one holiday, while travelling through the
backwoods of England, they chanced upon a café in a remote village in the Midlands. They
decided to stop there for a meal. To their utter surprise, they said the food was not only
pukka English, but was of the finest quality that they had ever savoured. So they asked to
meet the cook after the meal. Out of the kitchen stepped a rather modest-looking Chinese
man whose appearance did not quite square with their expectations of a moustachioed and
ruddy-complexioned figure in chef garb. Upon further inquiries, he told them that he was
once a crewman who had jumped ship, and later ended up working in kitchens with no
formal culinary training to boot. So there!
Is teaching English the province of only white native speakers? Thanks Masterchef for giving
us so much food for thought.