I'm easily excited by
visiting non-English-speaking destinations. There's a thrill for me
in functioning in another language. I suppose it's a bit like getting
continuous positive reinforcement. Think about it. The people with
whom you are communicating are reassuring you that you have properly
learned a language you have taken the time to study hard, simply by
understanding you. It can feel rewarding in the same way it felt as a
child when the teacher handed back a quiz that said, “Great job!”
at the top in red cursive.
When I was six years old,
I began to study Hebrew. I remember I had this hologram
ruler with the Hebrew
alphabet on it. I would hold that blue, green and orange ruler in my
hands, staring at it as the letters changed from one form to another
as I moved it ever-so-slightly. I would write my name from right to
left as I had been taught, staring at it, unexplainably
giddy knowing that this was still my name, but I could express it in
a another way, using what felt like a special type of code. As I
child, I believe that I grew to enjoy studying Hebrew because I liked
the idea of being a code breaker. At temple, I would follow the
service in my own prayer book , tracing the words with my pointer
finger, reading each word just a fraction of a second before the
rabbi or cantor pronounced it.
Strangely,
at the time I didn't recognize that I enjoyed foreign language, so
when I got to seventh grade and began studying French and hated it,
it didn't seem surprising to me. My teacher often seemed fed-up with
the group of twelve-year-olds in our class. I'm pretty sure we were
jerks and I'm equally as sure that he was burnt out, but I don't know
which came first, the chicken or the egg. I just know that by the end
of eighth grade with the same teacher, I still didn't understand the
concept of verb conjugation, and while I could produce a short,
two-man conversation in French that I had learned by rote, I hated my
experience and thought
I
hated French.
When I got to high school and sat down in Mrs. Brigham's
classroom, French changed forever. Here was this fantastic Belgian
woman, who seemed excited to be standing before this group of
teenagers who had chosen to study her native language! She approached
us with enthusiasm, wanted us to love French, and gave us the tools
we needed to learn it well. She found ways to teach us about
circumlocution, telling us to “talk around it” when we didn't
know the exact word for what we wanted to say. She helped us to
practice a more authentic French accent by modeling the position with
her own lips and reminding us to “tighten [our] jaw”. When a
fellow student would intentionally butcher the beautiful sound of
French into his own rendition - a combo of an American accent mixed
with the frequent addition of o's on the end of words to remind her
that he had previously been an (unsuccessful) student of Spanish -
she still managed to smile, passing a test of patience that even I
was failing.
I
studied French right through the end of high school, enjoying it more
and more each year. When the opportunity arose to stay with a family
in France during my junior year, I jumped on it. I had a feeling it
was going to be wonderful - I had no idea it would be life-changing.
In the weeks I spent in that lovely home in a Parisienne suburb,
something extraordinary took place. I began to dream in French, think
in French and felt a constant sense of joy that I had never before
experienced. It hit me one day after a long afternoon at Versailles
with some fellow French students. I had spent the whole day chatting
with David (that's Da-VEED, not DAY-vid), a French boy who was
hosting one of my American peers. After heading “home” that
evening, I was reflecting on my day and the many things about which
we had spoken. Suddenly I realized that among our topics – castles,
relationships, school, public transportation and gastrointestinal
problems – we had talked about all of it in French. How had I
managed that? Somehow, I had become very competent in French! I was
reeling!
When
freshman year of college rolled around and it was time to choose my
courses, I was rocked by
the
idea that
I could study other languages in addition to the French I had studied
in class, and the Portuguese I had been informally learning with my
Brasilian friend and her family. By the end of college, I had taken
courses in French, Hebrew, Portuguese, Spanish and Japanese, and
lived in Brasil and El Salvador. My simple American life had
gradually been transformed into a multi-lingual life that had taught
me about people all over the world. The more places I visited, the
more I realized how valuable it was to be able to communicate with
people in each country.
There are approximately 21 Spanish-speaking,
33 French-speaking and 9 Portuguese-speaking nations. When I think
about how many doors have been opened in my life due to being able to
speak these languages, I am eternally grateful to the many
enthusiastic language teachers I have been fortunate enough to have
had, and to the many good citizens of the countries I have visited
who have welcomed me with open arms, taught me about the place in
which they live and helped me further my passion as a citizen of the
world.
If
you are a parent, may I encourage you to teach your children the
value of really
learning another language? It's not always easy and I recognize that
not everyone is as receptive as I came to be, but there are things
you can do to cultivate interest in language, and there's no better
time than when children are still young. There are online games,
Global Child programs, Rosetta Stone, and often there is community
involvement that will teach them to appreciate other languages and
cultures. In the end, it will mean contributing to filling our world
with not just tolerant but compassionate,
interested individuals, and a greater possibility of world peace, one
step at a time.
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