Monday, April 28, 2014

Getting off the island one stroke at a time.

I'm sitting in a room surrounded by people, but it feels as though I have been marooned on a desert island. It's not like I haven't felt alone before in a crowd of people. I'm an introvert after all, and it takes effort for me to be sociable with lots of people. Usually, when I feel disconnected it's because I don't know many of the people or they are super different from me and I'm struggling to come up with how to make connections quick so I become connected to the group. But, this time, my isolation is due completely to language, or rather lack of understanding. The loneliness hits me like a particularly large wave as I realize just how much of our human connecting is done via words.

This is not my first time speaking French, but it is late and I am tired and we have moved on to a whole realm of vocabulary I don't have the words for. Conversations hum around me and I just don't know how to break into the flow. I struggle to martial up French phrases and make them stand at attention, ready to fall into line. My English keeps getting in the way, mowing down the French constructions as quickly as I summon them. Je pense que…I have no idea.

My helplessness and frustration are quickly getting on the highway for self-pity city, so I mentally grab my shoulders and give them a shake. I politely explain to the person sitting nearest me in my English-ravaged French that I can't understand what they're discussing because they're talking too fast, and make a quick exit. I refuse to feel like a failure for this. Sometimes, it is just too hard or too late in the evening to continue to think.

When I think about this experience and my emotions in it, I begin to better understand others when they are trying to learn English or exist in an English-speaking environment. It is exhausting and it is lonely to not be able to communicate more clearly than a child. I have thoughts and opinions but I can't express them. Everyone's laughing at something, but I have no idea why. I'm asked a question to which the answer isn't really yes or no, but I somehow make one of those responses work because it would be too complicated to explain more. The hardest part is inserting yourself into the conversation. If someone asks you something directly, it is so much easier, and if someone offers to explain something, it is even better!

Now, to the flip-side. I AM making progress in French. Not every day is like the situation above. When  people ask me if I speak French I have stopped responding by saying, "un petit peu" (a little bit) but instead saying, "Oui, je parle français." Because I do! Not as well as perhaps I would like, but I do speak French. The other evening, I had a whole conversation with a French-speaker in an English-speaking context just because I was imagining myself in her situation. Her English was great, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's nice for someone to make the effort to talk to you in your own language. It's perhaps harder to speak French with a native than with someone who is also learning French. I become very conscious of my mistakes in any case but we were able to connect on a much deeper level because I made an effort in her language instead of expecting her to make an effort in mine. I know it's not always possible to do that, but when you make an effort it can have a big reward.

The isolation that can come from not speaking the language is a very real, very present ocean. But I can't let my fear of the water keep me on the island forever, so I wade in and start to swim and if I sometimes get caught up in a big wave, it's ok to come up for air and strike out once more.

2 comments:

  1. Ruth, this is such a beautiful articulation of what it feels like to speak the minority language (at least in a specific context). I think that learning the native language makes us more compassionate and empathetic teachers... because, you're right, some nights you *are* too tired to conjure up the words you need. And it is frustrating to talk like a child when more complicated thoughts are milling in your head. I'm glad that your French is improving, though. At my best, my Thai was probably about toddler proficiency-- haha! Thanks for the post!

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    1. Thanks for the encouragement, Liz! It's definitely a learning process!

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