In this blog I
have touched on a number of strategies that have proven useful for me on my language learning journey, such as “eliciting” (getting the words you don’t know using words and
gestures you do know; see
blog entry 12), “copy
correcting” (imitating native
speakers when they correct your speech; see blog entry 8),
“gesturing” (using your body when
you don’t have the words to get your point across; see blog entry 19) and “Control” (conversation management based on a concrete
behavioral model; see blog entries 27 and 28). On the other hand, all of these great
strategies amount to nothing if you don’t go out into the real world and use
them.
This is easy to
accomplish if you are living in a country where your first language is not the
lingua franca. Every interaction becomes a “learning experience”; however, you
still may have to make an effort, particularly if your first language is
English and you teach your mother tongue for a living, as many of the
foreigners in Japan do.
No matter how
sincere intentions are to learn “nihongo” (Japanese), the newly-arrived English
speaker soon discovers that intial
contact in the workplace will most likely not be in the local language. Soon you slip into the comfortable,
but confining routine of functioning through colleagues, whose English language skills grow by leaps and bounds as your
Japanese aspirations wither. It is an easy trap to fall into; however,
you may soon find yourself
frustrated and resentful,
like a pampered child being constantly
fussed over.
In my time
here, I have run across a surprising number of foreigners who accept living in an “English
cocoon” as the norm. They are
unable to comfortably participate in simple conversations in Japanese even though they landed on these shores decades ago. For me, this
is a sad condition. It reminds me of the Indian women I first taught in Canada (see blog entry 17) who were able to function but could not
fully participate in the mainstream culture. In the case of
English-speaking “ex-pats”,
each activity in the local community is a hurdle while one’s circle of friends
is typically limited to
bilingual natives or other foreigners in the same confining monolingual boat.
The attitude of some
local inhabitants may also prove a
barrier to one’s efforts to becoming bilingual. In Japan , many of those keen to learn English
have come to view native speakers as a type of language “vending machine”. Just push a button and a new phrase will pop out. It can be very frustrating when someone
you have never met before insists on practicing their broken English with you
when you are trying to get the job done in Japanese. Not the best way to make new
friends.
So how do you
go about finding opportunities to improve your communication skills in a
language when based in a culture other than your own? If you live in a smaller town or the countryside,
going to a language school for lessons may not be an option. But that isn’t
necessarily a bad thing. Endless grammar drills can be mind-numbing while a
“key phrase for the week” is hardly high volume learning. For my money, I have
found it much more productive to study with the locals as you
learn a new skill in their language.
When I first
arrived in Japan , I lived in a small village on the Inland Sea (see blog entry 29) with the nearest language classes a
one-hour boat ride away. Since I worked most nights, attending lessons across the water wasn’t realistic.
Besides, I was facing more immediate hurdles. Trips to the local supermarket were a
nightmare. A surprising number of vegetables were unrecognizable while the
contents of packaged goods could be positively ominous. I knew the Chinese
character for “fish” but I might be purchasing catfood!
To remedy the
situation, I decided to take cooking lessons and discovered that they were an
excellent setting for learning language. Following orders to chop, slice or grill, I soon realized that I was picking up a range of
vocabulary and expressions from my fellow classmates as they chattered around me.
Soon I began to evolve into a “serial student” developing (albeit shallowly)
a range of skills, then walking away from each field once
I had milked it for all of the
language it had to offer. Doll
making, wood carving, flower arranging – I tripped through the traditional arts
with
the ulterior motive of improving my listening comprehension and speaking ability in
Japanese.
There was an
obvious pattern to my progress. First, search out an instructor who was willing
to tolerate an eager foreigner with limited linguistic skills. Second, squeeze
in lessons for a few hours during my busy work week, assuming the role of class
incompetent until I had mastered some fundamental techniques and terms. Next,
strike up conversations, clarifying and being forced to clarify in order to communicate.
And, finally, gracefully excuse
myself from classes once I knew most of the jargon and it was obvious that my fractured phrases were understood by those around
me. If my classmates stopped demanding explanations, I knew my learning
experience had plateaued and it was time to move on.
The above
progression may sound mercenary, however, my excuse of being “too busy at work to continue” was
culturally acceptable and
no noses were put out of joint. I had my priorities but was determined to part
friends. Furthermore, I wasn’t completely a linguistic butterfly flitting from
field to cultural field. I persevered with Japanese cooking for three years and
studied “sado”, or tea
ceremony, for eight years, even receiving a qualification.
I undertook tea ceremony because the language I had picked up in the Mitsui shipyards (see blog entries 27 and
29) was very rough-edged. I realized this the hard way while making a congratulatory speech at a wedding
reception. My eloquent phrases were continuously sidetracked by the embarrassed giggles of the audience. I
thought my words were polished
and dignified; the other guests thought
that I sounded like a dockyard thug!
Japanese tea ceremony, on the other
hand, uses language that is excruciatingly formal – perfect for wedding speeches and,
as it turns out, funerals. Furthermore, the study of tea ceremony can prove endless. You start with the basics of
the ceremony itself, mastering a series of stages and steps in order to perform
in a smooth, effortless manner for your guests. But lessons can become
addictive and I soon found myself dabbling in ceramics in order to recognize the style of each tea bowl I held or lingering over the elegant hanging scroll selected by my teacher for the day’s lesson. Training includes posture (rising gracefully from a
squat to full standing position can be hellishly difficult when you are tall and
gangly) and the proper
demeanor as you slide open paper screens and move about clad in a kimono. And, of course, all of this activity is accompanied by the directions and explanations of your “sensei”
– the much sought after
language I so desperately wanted.
The above learning
contexts involved aural
input. Like a small child, a lot of language has
to go in before something comes out. In my next blog, I will talk about efforts at output, or treading in
precarious places to improve my speaking skills.
(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese,Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean, Portuguese and Italian!)
(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese,Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean, Portuguese and Italian!)
I liked your way of portraying those thoughtful feelings. Here's an amazing story you've shared. This article gives you a new insight about Japanese Green Tea. Buy Japanese Matcha Green Tea Powder Online
ReplyDelete