Estudiamos

My grandfather died when I was fairly young, but I still have a few fuzzy memories of him. They are mostly just a sense of the man, stitched together in the time since then with family stories and old photographs. It all layers into an image not unlike a smiling, sun-browned apple doll, a man who had packed his years full of hard work, full of living. Though I can't remember anything he said specifically, I know that it was probably in Spanish.

He had come here from Mexico at fifteen years old and hadn't stopped working long enough to study English. I'm sure he had picked up enough to get by. He was capable of communicating with his German-American wife who spoke no Spanish. He held a job and raised his children, but whatever little bits of English he knew were never as comfortable as his native tongue.

My father, his son, is bilingual, as is often the case with the children of immigrants. My generation, however, was raised without that gift. English was the language in our home. Still, we had the benefit of hearing Spanish spoken now and then while Grandpa was alive. We got bits of the language mixed in with our English, a word here or there or a phrase. The grammar was unimportant. All that mattered was that we understood. All that mattered was the communication. Similarly, our family talk was peppered with pieces of other languages. Words or expressions in Polish, German, Swedish, and even Japanese were familiar concepts, drawn in by different roots of the family tree. Sometimes we didn't even distinguish them from each other, not fully recognizing that they weren't part of some larger vocabulary rather than pieces of separate languages.

I think this early exposure helped to create my lifelong fascination with languages and cultural variety. As soon as language study was offered in school, I threw myself into learning French, even sacrificing my lunch period for independent study when my packed schedule didn't mesh with the offered classes. At seventeen, I embraced the opportunity to be an exchange student and went to Japan with nothing but the few words I had gathered from common culture and the influence of an aunt I saw once at my grandfather's funeral. There, I listened. I tried to understand how the language worked and collected more vocabulary. Although I never got far enough to talk about anything complex and I'm sure my grammar was childish, I learned enough to be polite. The gaps were filled in with gestures, smiles, and a general willingness to understand as much as I could.

Years passed, and my interest drew me to study other languages in varying degrees and for varying reasons. I would use any far fetched excuse to pick up a new word or phrase. Writing an old Italian man into a story? I'd give him a line in his native tongue and use it as a reason to read an introduction to the language. Just for fun, I'd figure out how to count in Russian or say hello in Chinese. I studied some library-related Spanish to aid in communications at work. Welsh was important to explore before visiting the country even though the people there speak English very well. My husband showed an interest in German, so I studied it to be able to practice with him while he learned. I even picked up fingerspelling, and at one time, knew all the cuneiform letters.

But for all the variety of languages I have touched in my studies, complex conversations in any of them would be impossible. The pool of my knowledge may be broad, but it is shallow. While I focus on a single language, my ability may improve, but the others get temporarily boxed, becoming more difficult to access should the need arise. At the same time, they may insert themselves unpredictably, confusing the tongue of the moment with random translations. However, what I have gained by sacrificing depth in any one is a certain understanding of the way all language is connected. Often, it's easy for me to get the gist of things even when I don't know the words specifically. Root words and logical guesses can lead to recognition where confusion could have been the rule. Most importantly, the broad scope has created a familiarity that not only removes the uneasiness some feel with foreign languages, but creates an insatiable urge to know just a little more.

So when our library offered a "Language Link" program that paired volunteers with English learners for independent practice, I volunteered. Most of the students were native Spanish speakers, and although my knowledge of that language wasn't strong enough to be an effective teacher, the general knowledge of language might be useful in such a tutoring role. The program was flexible, allowing participants to work on aspects of their choice and in whatever fashion they felt was best. Formal grammar exercises or simple conversation, it didn't matter. The goal was practice.

My partner was a Uruguayan woman who had been a nurse in her home country. She had lived in the USA doing factory work for four years because she felt her English wasn't good enough to take the tests required for certification in her chosen field. She was taking classes four days a week at the local college and studying online in her free time, but opportunities to practice outside the formal education were limited. Her community included many recent immigrants, and, like my grandfather, they were generally more comfortable speaking in their native tongue, especially with others who spoke the same. There's less chance of making mistakes or being misunderstood. And when someone speaks to you in Spanish, it's only polite to answer the same way.

My partner and I began by clarifying some confusion she had about verb tenses, but as the weeks went by, our sessions expanded. We talked about slang, synonyms, and connotations, drifted into conversations about dialect and regional differences in language. She had observed interesting changes in her own language from South America to Puerto Rico to the largely Mexican Hispanic community where I work. She shared those observations and my appetite for that kind of cultural information was engaged. We started exchanging stories about our families, memories and interests. We talked about our lives as well as our languages, and when the library discontinued the program, we continued to meet.

Now, in addition to practicing English for my partner's benefit, we are beginning to practice Spanish for mine. Some of my pronunciation is taking on a Uruguayan accent, and I'm learning some of the expressions that work in South America but not in Mexico. Though I doubt I'll ever achieve fluency, every session provides opportunities for communication and expands that patchwork vocabulary begun in childhood. Even the time we focus on English has helped me discover new things.

In short, our time together is enriching both our lives in many ways. This exploration has reaffirmed that early idea of a blended human language for me. Borders between languages need not be built in stone. We all have ways of speaking to each other: collections of spoken words we call language, written words or pictures, gestures, math and music and many other ways as personal as each individual and as universal as the instinct to communicate. Language is a flexible, living thing in which the goal is never perfection but connection. Willingness to share with others, willingness to understand is our aim. If we keep this in mind, proficiency in this greater human language grows. Our lives and our communications are our opportunities to learn. Every day, we study. We study together. Estudiamos.