Criticized for Saying Yes, Ma’am, and No, Sir

You’re listening to A Way with Words, the show about language and how we use it. I’m Grant Barrett.

And I’m Martha Barnette. A while back, we had a conversation with a young woman in Florida who naturally used the expressions yes ma’am and no sir, and some people thought that was a little strange, a little affected, but it was just the way that she talked. And that reminded Dorinda Hickey from Austin, Texas, about an experience that she had in ninth grade in Worcester, Ohio, which is about 50 miles outside of Cleveland. She wrote to us, I was a very quiet girl, shy and slightly backward, but I was smart and in what was then called advanced classes. My dad was in the military and we moved around a lot, so I was really quiet and shy for that reason. Our home and family was Mississippi.

She goes on to talk about how one day early in the school year, her English teacher asked her a question, and Dorinda answered, yes, ma’am. Her teacher was indignant and said, you do not say ma’am to me. It is disrespectful. Do you understand? And Dorinda automatically responded, yes, ma’am. Oh. And she goes on to say, remember, I’m from Mississippi, and in that day, not saying that could get you a wooden spoon to the backside. We were born saying it before we said mama or daddy, but the teacher saw it as smart aleck, and in her defense, sometimes kids would say, yes, ma’am, or something like that, sarcastically.

Anyway, her teacher ended up sending Dorinda to the principal’s office. And she goes on, I had never been there before. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and mortified. What had I done? My first year, and I’m in trouble two weeks into being there. The principal read the note, listened to me talk, and proceeded to tell me, here in northeastern Ohio, we speak standard English. We do not slur our R’s. We do not stretch out our words. We do not say certain things. They are not correct. I was sent home with a note from him to have my parents sign it and come have a talk. He made arrangements for me to have speech therapy.

What? I was mortified. Fortunately, though, she writes, my parents fell out laughing. I never did do therapy. I graduated with high honors from that school system after changing schools two more times in the four years. I didn’t think it funny at the time, but I can look back over 50 years later and laugh.

I’m glad you can laugh. I’m not laughing. I’m angry for her. I knew you would be great. Dialect is not a malfunction. Dialect is not an error. It doesn’t require therapy. It doesn’t require therapy. I was going to say the same thing. I am not to the funny stage yet, Dorinda. What? I want to go marching on her behalf. This little girl needs people to stick up for her. Because she said yes, ma’am. Right. And she speaks with a Mississippi accent. Yeah. Bless her heart. I’m sure she’s not the only person with a story like that. I know she’s not. We get emails and calls about this. People who grew up speaking French in Maine and were told at the English-speaking schools that they couldn’t speak it. People who had their hands smacked for speaking Spanish at the religious school because that’s what they spoke at home but not at school.

I just finished reading about code talkers, the Navajo, and they were forced to go to the English-speaking schools where they were spanked if they spoke Navajo to each other. I’m hoping attitudes are changing. Yeah. Dorinda, thanks for sharing that story. Yeah, just to underline, a dialect isn’t a thing to be corrected. It’s a thing to be cherished. Well said.