Adult Language Learning
By Colleen Laing

Colleen struggles with the Russian language

Learning a new language as an adult requires something I have in very short supply – the willingness to appear foolish. Until my much younger brother was born, I was the little sister, the youngest of about a dozen cousins, and an easy target for any kid in the family who wanted to improve their self-esteem at my expense. They need only ask me if I knew such and such, some critical piece of information about the world that I, of course, lacked, to prove their superiority. I felt inadequate and became defensive, sensitized to my lack of wisdom and touchy about my personal dignity. I experienced enough humiliation during childhood to last a lifetime. And now I’m trying to speak a foreign language!

My goal with Russian is to become conversational because knowing a few words is just not sufficient to crack the culture code and acquaint oneself with a place and its people. Speaking like a native, reading novels in their original tongue and understanding subtle humor all would be amazing, but that can come later if at all. For my fall visit to Moscow what I hope for is the ability to get to know the people I encounter, order in restaurants, purchase groceries, and find my way around. That feels plenty ambitious for now.

In any language conversation involves a large body of knowledge and skills and requires they be used in a fast-paced environment. It only takes a few characteristic mistakes to become a caricature of a foreigner (“we go store, I wait you”). I still remember with a pang of shame and anger being mocked by a young German vacationer a few years back when I asked directions in my rusty high school French on the French island of Belle Isle. As I think about and prepare for our Moscow trip, I feel like I am painting a target on my back, volunteering to sound ignorant all over again: “Mock me, I’m a foreigner! “

I recently resumed meeting with my Russian tutor. I’m getting back on the bicycle, as the saying goes, after four earlier attempts to learn Russian. I’m not calling them failed attempts (although it’s tempting) because I did take some knowledge and skill away from each effort. Practicing with my tutor, Sofiya, reduces my inhibitions. She keeps a straight face no matter what I say, never lets exasperation seep into her tone, and has heard much worse. Our meetings mainly consist of a role-played conversation about a topic likely to occur on my trip – requesting a beverage from a flight attendant, talking about my daughter, describing my work to an in-law, shopping and paying in stores. This forces me to push through my resistance – if I really want to become conversational, apparently I have to converse.

After three years of household immersion, listening to my husband speak to our daughter in Russian, I think I’ve got a bit more of an ear for the language this time around, not to mention a solid grasp of early childhood and everyday family vocabulary. I don’t need flashcards to remember how to say, “Do you need to pee?” “Eat your oatmeal” or “Don’t climb on that chair!” so I’ve got that going for me.

But the specter of public humiliation is always lurking. I’m working now on my fallback position -- trying to have a sense of humor about it. I was asking my husband for clarification on a vocabulary word the other day. When I mentioned the imperative command “give me” (die-ee-tee) he chuckled and said “you have to be careful pronouncing that, because if you say “dah-ee-tee” you aren’t saying “give me,” you’re saying “milk me.” We got some good laughs out of that. The problem is, I still can’t hear the difference, so I’m just hoping no one grabs my chest while trying to say “give me that glass, would ya?.”

What I can guarantee is that mistakes will be made. I know I’m going to feel like an idiot a fair percentage of the time. I only hope to keep it in perspective and let go of worries. I will look like an idiot, and so what? As they say in Russian “takova jheezn” (such is life -- or does that mean something horribly embarrassing? I just don’t know).

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Colleen Laing is a freelance writer living in Seattle. She has a 3-year-old bilingual daughter. Colleen is a monthly columnist for Multilingual Living Magazine where she writes about single-language parenting a bilingual child. She welcomes feedback and article ideas at cblaing@oz.net.

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