Language Triumphs

When learning a language, there comes a moment when you stop and say to yourself, “Check me out!  I’m talking and people understand me!”  Not necessarily in a boastful way, it’s more the realization that you’ve passed the threshold of long pauses, searching for an elusive phrase or vocabulary word.  It also does not mean that you’ve reached fluency and there’s no need for more study.  It just means that you see yourself communicating without as much effort.  You can relax when talking.  Opening your mouth doesn’t fill you with apprehension.

For me, that moment came for the first time when I was studying in Paris.  I was walking around La Cité Internationale Universitaire somewhere between the Denmark and India dorms with some classmates and made a joke.  Everybody laughed.  I was both pleased and surprised that they’d understood and found it funny.  I don’t remember the joke, but, knowing me, it was probably corny, thanks to having inherited my father’s dorky sense of humor. 

Another time was when I ran into Kabongo, one of the campus dragueurs.  “Hey! Haven’t seen you in a long time,” he said leaning in for les bises (ugh).  I told him that I had moved out of India dorm (true).  Where had I moved to, he asked.  Right here, the Netherlands dorm, I said (lie).  What room?  Room 246 (lie), I said without batting an eyelash.  He then said he had some business to take care of, but would come visit me in the afternoon. “D’accord,” I said.  The truth was that I was at the Netherlands dorm leaving my suitcases because from there, I’d be heading to Gard du Nord Station to begin my back packing trip around Europe.  I was surprised that I was able to lie so easily and convincingly in French.  I hope when he knocked on Room 246 it was a male student who answered the door. 

         

Fast forward to the present.  I’ve never liked eating with students.  They’re noisy and I prefer peaceful, quiet lunches.  But in Japan, teachers are expected to eat with them.  The first two years were okay.  After all, kids can’t get too wild at a small junior high school.  Then I moved and began working at two elementary schools.  The noisiest of lunch times are elementary school lunch times.  At first I thought I’d get indigestion from all the shouting, spoons clattering on the floor and general mayhem typical of lunch time in an elementary classroom.  But when the students got used to me, they began talking and asking questions.  My proudest speaking moments were in those little exchanges we had. Grades one to three are the best because they were not shy and just speak to me without wondering if I understand. 

“Sensei, when is your birthday,” a second grader asked.  I told her the month.  She nodded and said, “Tomorrow is my younger sister’s birthday. She will be five years old.”  Really?  That’s nice!  And when is your birthday?  Before she could answer, we got interrupted by a boisterous nosepicker swinging his white smock above his head like a helicopter. 

Or the time I did an alphabet lesson with the first graders.  After the drills, chants, singing and game, each one received their initial letter on a sheet of A4paper.  “Take out your crayons,” I instructed.  They scurried to get crayons out of their back packs.  One little girl approached me with her brow furrowed and whispered, “Lindo-sensei, I don’t have crayons.  I have colored pencils.”  Colored pencils are alright, I assured her.  “Iro enpitsu daijobu desu.”  Upon hearing that, she skipped back to her table and began coloring.