Imagine a Maltese teacher teaching science to some kids and wanting to explain the concept of gravity by recalling Galileo’s legendary experiment when he dropped a canon ball and a musket ball from the Tower of Pisa to the ground. The two balls of different masses, but of similar shape and density, were released together and hit the ground at the same time, contradicting the common perception that heavy objects fall faster than light ones.

Whether true or not, the story is fascinating for several reasons, and it obviously captures the imagination of young children. Yet, for the keen teacher, it is obvious that a small number of pupils missed the point. After asking them what they understood and getting no proper answer, the teacher switches from English to Maltese and repeats the story, making sure these pupils get it… and they do.

Did the teacher do the right thing? In science, the language of instruction is English and exam papers are set in English: so the teacher broke a golden rule in order to make sure that all in class understood the story and its implications.

Some time before the election in March, Evarist Bartolo had publicly stated he was all for the language of instruction in our schools being solely English: he was obviously aware of the problems with the use of English in Malta and thought this might be a solution. After he was appointed minister for education he recanted from this position, probably realising that this was one of those things that are easier said than done.

My story is, of course, fictional. But it is not far from the truth: the conundrum resulting from our bilingualism that many teachers face every day in Maltese schools.

Surely ours is not the only education system in a bilingual country. A friend of mine who had emigrated to Canada where she had raised a family explained to me that she had sent her children to a bilingual school where French and English were treated on a par: English was the language of instruction (with textbooks and exams) in half the subjects while French was used similarly for the other half. My reaction was obvious: why not in Malta? Can teachers be disciplined to ensure that only English or only Maltese – as the case may be – is used in class according to the subject being taught? In theory this should work; in practice one can hardly imagine the number of pitfalls in this road paved, as it is, with good intentions.

When I was preparing for the Lyceum entrance exam, one year short of six decades ago, my mother – a teacher before she married – had emphasised to me the importance of understanding properly the arithmetic ‘problems’ written in English. She realised that many failed in arithmetic because they misunderstood the question as a result of their lack of proficiency in English. Yet this was a Maths exam, not one in the English language. This sort of problem is still with us today.

When Malta became independent 50 years ago, it opted to proclaim Maltese as the national language but both Maltese and English were declared as official languages. At the time it was the obvious choice for the nascent nation: one of aspect of the Constitution that was not controversial.

Yet our social milieu was not historically conducive to this situation. In the 1950s, children in Church schools run by nuns were punished if they talked in Maltese, even during the break. On the political front, the PN sweated to shed its call for the defence of the Italian language while Dom Mintoff and his coterie made fun of those who spoke in English: a classic case of inverted snobbery.

Both languages are today an integral part of the national psyche

Mintoff himself had a very good command of the English language that was much higher than average for people of his age; yet his box of tricks included one in which he ‘played native’ and switched to broken English when speaking to some foreign dignitaries.

The background to our bilingualism becomes further complicated if one delves more into the past when Italian was the official language of the courts and Maltese was spoken only in villages and in the ‘kitchen the language question was then a hot political potato.

Our bilingualism must be seen in the context of how it developed before we can overcome the problems that it poses in our society and in our education system. Many lament that too many Maltese do not really know how to speak and write either in good English or in good Maltese; more often than not, they use a hotchpotch of the two languages.

Remedying this situation is a big challenge. Irrespective of how it came about, our bilingualism is today a precious asset that we cannot afford to lose. Perhaps the time has come for us to liberate it by consciously shaking off the shackles that are part and parcel of its history.

We have to ensure that it survives in good shape with due respect to both languages that are today an integral part of the national psyche.

micfal@maltanet.net