I am a firm believer that the linguistic code of a learner plays a direct and powerful role in the educational opportunities available to that student. The idea of linguistic capital, proposed as a subset of cultural capital by Bordieu, essentially states that a person possessing the linguistic codes of the higher-class can exchange this (like money) for social and economic capital. This has obvious implications for our system of education. Michael Olneck, in a paper published by the American Educational Research Journal, explains:

Cultural capital not only produces distinctions among individuals, it also reproduces its own value. Schooling, which Bourdieu referred to as an agency of “cultural consecration and conservation” in which prevailing classifications are objectified, is central to the validation of cultural capital. As Mohr and DiMaggio observed, the school is one of the “centers of cultural authority which maintain and disseminate societal standards of value and serve collectively to clarify and periodically revise the cultural currency.” The school is one of the critical sites where forms of cultural capital are produced, transmitted, and accumulated, and where dominant systems of classification and evaluation are inculcated . This is accomplished within schools when they obscure the very character of cultural capital and the processes of its reproduction. Meritocratic ideologies are presumed to account for systematic variations in academic performance. Reigning methods of organizing, instructing, and assessing students are represented as intrinsic to and solely instrumental for teaching and learning. Within this context, cultural capital is recognized (i.e., perceived and honored) as legitimate competence, whereas its arbitrary and class-based character is simultaneously misrecognized.

The problem with a this “hidden economy” is that it perpetuates a system of social reproduction, where the powerful retain power.  When combined with the “bootstraps” mythology, responsibility for failure is placed on the system’s victims.

I should imagine that it would be fairly obvious at this point that I am fortunate enough to possess a fairly “lucrative” cultural and linguistic capital.  I am enrolled in an institute of higher learning and interact with authentic texts.  I possess a “standardized” (if sometimes overly formal) version of the English language.  However, this is not the only linguistic capital I possess.

I graduated from an urban, inner-city high school that has unfortunately been shut down in recent years (post-NCLB).   Fitting in (and staying safe) required me to learn a completely different linguistic code than I had previously used.  I was in a unique learning situation that I only became aware of in later years.  Code-switching–alternating between linguistic codes based upon context–was a valuable skill that I (somehow) managed to learn.

Talking in my natural dialect allowed me to interact with authority figures and staff in a way that was incredibly beneficial for me (if not downright unfair).   There is no denying that I was treated differently than my peers.  I was allowed to complete my senior English class as an “independent study.”  An administrator drove me to a bookstore during school hours.  I had coffee in the cafe and perused books that suited my interests.  When one was selected, two copies were purchased by the administrator (one for each of us).  I was allowed to read the book at my own pace, and have one-on-one discussions about the content of the book.  Looking back, it’s embarrassingly unfair.

However, there was an additional, highly restricted, side to my life here.  I did not eat lunch in the school cafeteria, instead eating in a teacher’s classroom.  I was allowed to get a friend from class if I needed to go to the bathroom, or else use a teacher’s key and use the teacher’s bathroom.  I was often referred to by an acronym that was used to identify all those in my social circle, and my identity became that of an other.  As a result, I learned to adapt.  I used words like “whack,” “ill,” and “mad sweet.”  I drawled, “Girrrrrrlllll!” when a friend said something noteworthy.  Although not considered to be “good” English, these adaptations were invaluable to me, and allowed me to exchange words for safety and acceptance.

It should be apparent from this that cultural and linguistic capital must be evaluated within a context.  No system is inherently “better” than any other, though some systems may be better in specific contexts.  As a future teacher, I consider this one of my most important literacy goals.     Students must recognize that the education system’s emphasis on “Standard English” is not due to its superiority, but rather it’s “exchange rate,” so to speak.  Mastery of this dialect provides a linguistic currency that can be exchanged for an economic one.  However, other dialects are equally useful in varied situations.  Codeswitching between dialects is the equivalent of an “English multilingualism,” and must be taught and encouraged.