The Single Language Spouse

Ah, Americans. Most of us can't tell Iceland from Greenland or Lichtenstein from Luxembourg. Am I ever American. On a trip to Prague I subsisted on Coca Cola and street vendor hot dogs until I saw something that sounded familiar on a café menu; let me warn you now to avoid Prague Spaghetti at all costs – the similarity ends with the noodles.

My husband, who grew up in Russia, speaks nearly flawless English (with a sexy little accent), can get by on his German, and picked up French from a few months of listening to CDs in the car. Why can't I be like this? How I admire and envy his facility with languages.

I'm no fool, but language learning is not my forté. In college the only class I ever withdrew from was Latin; I was studying three hours a night and getting a D. I thought I had a basic command of French after junior high, high school and college French classes. Then I went to France and found that not only could no one understand anything I said, I also couldn't understand French speakers, read menus or find my way around Paris.

Now I'm raising a bilingual child. I am committed to my daughter learning, loving and using the Russian language, understanding Russian culture and valuing the multi-ethnic aspect of our family. I adore hearing her and her papa chatting in Russian in our home, even if I sometimes say “bless you” when she's asked him to pass the butter. I also know that bilingual children have thinking advantages and potential economic advantages over their monolingual peers (see the book review of “A Parents' and Teachers' Guide to Bilingualism” in this issue).

I am concerned, however, that I, the monolingual mom, have a greater influence on my daughter's language acquisition than my Russian-speaking husband. As an English-only mother raising a child in an English speaking country, I suspect that English language influences will eclipse Russian language learning and use. While I value my daughter's bilingualism, I struggle with how to reinforce it effectively without speaking Russian myself.

I have tried to learn Russian. And tried again. I have often had the feeling that I was about to become modestly conversational, only to find that no, actually I was not. Over the past eight or nine years I've tried classes, tapes, self-study books and a tutor, and I still don't speak Russian. My failed efforts took substantial energy and time, which I now find in short supply as a parent of a three year old. Will I ever become bilingual in Russian?

In theory I have a great resource at home – my husband. But, as beginner I found it easier to learn from teachers who had some knowledge of how beginners learn than to be plunged into the stream of conversing with a native. Once I had learned some Russian, we did try speaking it at home. The attempt went something like this:

My husband: (in Russian, of course): Your brother called. He said to give him a call around 7.

Me: (in English, of course): What? What? You can't give me a phone message in a foreign language! I need to know what was said. I can't relax at home if you torment me like this!

That was the end of the experiment, from which we both emerged traumatized. I decided that home and family are my refuge from stress, not a setting where I want to have to struggle for understanding.

How I feel about Russia and Russians in our community will undoubtedly influence my daughter's motivation to learn and use Russian, as parents communicate status and esteem for language learning and use through their behaviors and comments. When I met my husband, I had no special interest in Russia. I had no plans to study Russian or visit the former Soviet Union. Now that it is part of our family's culture and heritage; I find I like some things about Russian culture and don't like others. I like borsch, but hate the smell of cooked cabbage. I like Russian movies, but the music hasn't captured me. I love Russian art and the charm of its architecture but am daunted by the thought of absorbing 800 years of foreign history.

When we socialize with Russians as a family, I'm sure my daughter notices that if we're not speaking English I can be found gazing into space, reading anything I can get my hands on or humming quietly to myself. Most of our Russian friends are fluent in English and all are very considerate of my limitations. There is one setting, however, where my lack of language ability is a barrier. One couple we know throw a party for all their Russian expatriate friends once a year, and it's fun to witness the guests' and hosts' enthusiasm at seeing countrymen and speaking their native tongue. Unfortunately, for me that's where the fun ends. While everyone at this annual event is fluent in English the last thing I want to do is intrude on their enjoyment by approaching them to have an English conversation. The second to last thing I want to do is stand around by myself bored and lonely. The thing I most want to do is go home. Each year I try to convince my husband to go without me, telling him he'll get to stay longer, he'll have more fun, I'll have more fun, but to no avail.

Domestically, situations where I feel like an anchor dragging my family down are blessedly few. In Russia, however, they are legion. I recall one incident in particular that happened on my first visit to Moscow. I spent many hours in the living/dining room of my father in law's apartment, taking comfort in the written word while my husband and his father, who hadn't been together for several years, sat in his father's bedroom catching-up, swapping stories and planning each day's activities. When we were all together the two of them continued to bask in each other's conversation. I would ask, “What are you guys talking about?” until I was tired of hearing myself ask. It's all so mundane, my husband told me, not worth translating.

Several days into our visit my English language reading material was exhausted and I was feeling terribly isolated and alone. That morning, as my husband and father-in-law chatted together at the breakfast table, and I was again unable to understand anything that was being said, I broke into tears. My father-in-law expressed his concern and asked my husband what was wrong. When he understood that was upset because I didn't know what was being said, he leaned over, patted me on the knee and began asking me about myself. I had only wanted my husband to occasionally translate the highlights of the conversation so I could feel included, but I had broken up the party and shifted the entire focus of the gathering to myself instead.

We are planning a trip to Moscow in the fall, our daughter's first trip to Russia, and we are all excited about it (some of us more so than others). The best part, in my mind, is the opportunity for our daughter to meet Russian kids and thereby be drawn into speaking more Russian herself. She had been a passive Russian ‘speaker' until the age of 2 ½, when a visit from my husband's childhood friend and his 6-year-old son motivated her to begin speaking Russian, not just responding to Russian conversation in English. I anticipate a more thorough immersion will help our daughter switch from declining her cases in the second person to the first and iron out a few other peculiarities that result from being spoken to but not hearing others converse.

As our visit to Russia draws near, I will again be struggling to balance my own need for interpretation in order to make sense of the immersion experience with my husband and daughter's need to be unfettered, to plunge into the culture and experience the relationships that are only available to them in that place. Another trip to Moscow, another round of Russian lessons, and another long stay with my father-in-law. Maybe I'll finally become conversational, able to speak Russian at home and understand it abroad. Wish me luck; I will need it!

Colleen Laing is a freelance writer living in Seattle. She has a 3-year-old bilingual daughter. Colleen will be writing a monthly column for the BBFN newsletter about single-language parenting a bilingual child. Upcoming topics may include culture clashes, TV watching and, of course, traveling to the homeland. She welcomes feedback and article ideas at cblaing@oz.net .

©Colleen Laing

back to Main Newsletter page