My first time outside the United States was a week in Juarez, Mexico with a church youth group. It was my first real opportunity to practice my high school Spanish, which was never that strong. It sent tingles through my spine when I finally got over my shyness and had my first interaction, saying hola to a child, who responded with a similar greeting. I remember getting excited when someone sneezed, and I knew what to say: ¡salud! (I've always found it amusing that most languages respond to a sneeze with "health," but English responds with a blessing, based on an old superstition that a sneeze was a the person's soul trying to escape the body.)
Another interaction that I remember from that week was when a little girl was asking me what time our group went to sleep each night, but instead of using que horas, she used the diminutive, que horitas, making "hours" sound like "little hours." For some reason, even though I had studied the diminutive in Spanish classes, I was not able to understand the question I had heard many times, but in a slightly different form. I had a guess--a correct one--but I didn't trust myself enough to go with it. I had the kid repeat herself many times before giving up, and I'm not sure if it was a translator that clarified the issue, or if I figured it out later on my own, much after the fact.
It was only much later, after having breakthroughs in learning Italian, that I realized the importance of being prepared in an exchange when the response isn't quite the one you expect or learned in the textbook. A lot of people freeze in a moment like that. I did. But now I'm much more able to use context to make an educated guess if I'm not sure of all the words, and I have better tools, this time in Portuguese, to ask clarifying questions if needed. As I teach English, I try to make sure my students have these tools, as well, giving them situations to problem-solve outside of the book and its limited set of expressions.
The episode of Star Trek Discovery from two weeks ago involved a universal translator that had a serious malfunction, even making the ships' controls appear in Klingon...or was it Arabic? As the bridge turned into the Tower of Babel, and everyone started to get panicky, I actually found myself enjoying it as I tried to piece together bits of languages I know and don't know, with help from the context, and from the ease of the sofa. That's when Commander Saru, who had come down with a serious illness, was called back to the bridge for his language skills. Coughing, he grumbled, "Am I the only one who's bothered to learn another language?" And that's when he became my hero.
We're probably not too far away from having a universal translator like the one on Star Trek. But even in this idealized future world with all its technology, multilingualism is not to be discarded, and neither is the ability to adapt in unpredictable situations. The following episode found Saru and his sister trapped and desperate, but of course, Star Trek style (or MacGyver style?), he took a broken drone and made a communicator, and then adapted the technology in an attempt to solve a huge problem for his species. To me, it was a beautiful maker moment--using what there is on hand, being creative with it, in order to solve a problem.
Language used to be a text book dialogue that got me nowhere. Now I see it as LEGO bricks. I may not have the whole collection, but I can use what I have to make what I need. There are some set instructions and models that can get me started, but for the rest, I have to take what I've learned and adjust it to the situation, unpredictable though it may be. It won't always be perfect and pretty, but the more I use it and manipulate it, the more I can own the language and feel confident in my use of it.
I'm very different from that church kid I was in Mexico. My Spanish isn't much better, but my Portuguese, my self-confidence and my outlook on life is. I'll end with a quote from Saru, who was made wiser and stronger from an unimaginable experience: "Perhaps, perhaps, in feeling less like you were, you are more like who you were meant to become."
What are some barriers or breakthroughs you've encountered? What wise words have helped give them meaning? How can we empower students to get an idea of what they can do with what they are learning? How can we better learn to tinker and problem-solve with the bits that we have?
Another interaction that I remember from that week was when a little girl was asking me what time our group went to sleep each night, but instead of using que horas, she used the diminutive, que horitas, making "hours" sound like "little hours." For some reason, even though I had studied the diminutive in Spanish classes, I was not able to understand the question I had heard many times, but in a slightly different form. I had a guess--a correct one--but I didn't trust myself enough to go with it. I had the kid repeat herself many times before giving up, and I'm not sure if it was a translator that clarified the issue, or if I figured it out later on my own, much after the fact.
It was only much later, after having breakthroughs in learning Italian, that I realized the importance of being prepared in an exchange when the response isn't quite the one you expect or learned in the textbook. A lot of people freeze in a moment like that. I did. But now I'm much more able to use context to make an educated guess if I'm not sure of all the words, and I have better tools, this time in Portuguese, to ask clarifying questions if needed. As I teach English, I try to make sure my students have these tools, as well, giving them situations to problem-solve outside of the book and its limited set of expressions.
The episode of Star Trek Discovery from two weeks ago involved a universal translator that had a serious malfunction, even making the ships' controls appear in Klingon...or was it Arabic? As the bridge turned into the Tower of Babel, and everyone started to get panicky, I actually found myself enjoying it as I tried to piece together bits of languages I know and don't know, with help from the context, and from the ease of the sofa. That's when Commander Saru, who had come down with a serious illness, was called back to the bridge for his language skills. Coughing, he grumbled, "Am I the only one who's bothered to learn another language?" And that's when he became my hero.
Language used to be a text book dialogue that got me nowhere. Now I see it as LEGO bricks. I may not have the whole collection, but I can use what I have to make what I need. There are some set instructions and models that can get me started, but for the rest, I have to take what I've learned and adjust it to the situation, unpredictable though it may be. It won't always be perfect and pretty, but the more I use it and manipulate it, the more I can own the language and feel confident in my use of it.
I'm very different from that church kid I was in Mexico. My Spanish isn't much better, but my Portuguese, my self-confidence and my outlook on life is. I'll end with a quote from Saru, who was made wiser and stronger from an unimaginable experience: "Perhaps, perhaps, in feeling less like you were, you are more like who you were meant to become."
What are some barriers or breakthroughs you've encountered? What wise words have helped give them meaning? How can we empower students to get an idea of what they can do with what they are learning? How can we better learn to tinker and problem-solve with the bits that we have?
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