29. Quick and Easy - Keywording

In blog entries 27 and 28, I talked about a communication strategy model with three stages and specific language. But communication strategies do not need to be complex. Often they are based on common sense and can be surprisingly simple.

After coming to Japan, I began to seriously investigate my own use of communication strategies as I tried to get my point across in Japanese. Whenever a communication breakdown occurred, I would step back, analyze what went wrong then try a new approach. If it worked, I would subsequently create classroom activities and materials so that I could introduce and develop the successful strategy with my students. I will explain one incident and the simple strategy which resulted from it, as well as include some classroom materials with this blog posting.

After my first year of stumbling about in Japanese, I was slowly developing my language skills for specific contexts. The town of Tamano where I lived was very small and there were no language schools that I could turn to for structured lessons. As an alternative, I hit upon the idea of studying assorted traditional arts in Japanese. Lessons included cooking, woodcarving and tea ceremony. My tastes were varied but the main reason for these eclectic choices was that the instructors would accept me. In my early days when I could barely string two words together, each “sensei”, or teacher, went to great pains to make me feel at ease but it was obviously a challenge for everyone. As the months passed, however, I slowly but surely began to collect words and phrases for maneuvering in a kitchen or tea room.

On the other hand, when faced with a new context I was often at a loss for words. And if there was an element of stress involved, as there usually is for people trying to communicate in a language that is not their own, then the few words I did have at my disposal evaporated as a cold sweat broke out on my brow. Yet I refused to give up and persevered to the amusement (and sometimes irritation) of the locals.

One day, I was waiting to buy a train ticket at Tamano’s small local station. This was the terminus and there was only one train every hour that went to the “big city” of Okayama. Ticket vending machines had not been invented yet and several people stood patiently in line in front of the ticket window. One by one they were served by the agent then headed quickly to the platform to board the waiting train. There were about five minutes left before it pulled out and the mood was tense. Japanese trains leave on time and everyone needed to buy a ticket and board before the train left.

As I stood awaiting my turn, I listened very carefully to the people in front of me trying to catch the phrases they used to buy their tickets. I had the key words – “next train”, “return ticket”, “one person”, “Okayama”– but was still mentally sorting out how to string them all together into a polite phrase when my turn came. Sucking in my breath, I slowly, even painfully began to produce a polished request for a ticket word by carefully enunciated word. “Would... you mind... giving me...?”I was so desperate to sound polite that I ceased to realize those behind me were also desperate – to make their train!

Suddenly, through the fog of my phrases I heard a man mutter angrily, “Konna baka na gaijin! Shinjiraranai!”, which roughly translates as, “Stupid bloody foreigner. I don’t believe it!” I was mortified. My desperate effort to produce a refined phrase had resulted in some very disgruntled locals. Quickly, I blurted out, “Okayama. Round trip. One person.” and tossed my money at the ticket agent. He hurriedly passed back the necessary ticket along with my change. Pocketing both, I scurried to the platform.

Once I had taken my seat (and noticed with relief that those standing in line behind me had also made the train), I began to dissect what had happened. It had been foolish of me to try and produce a perfect, polished phrase when the “broken” language I had blurted out was more than sufficient for the job at hand. Just as importantly, the abbreviated language was what I would have used in a similar situation in English.

This problematic desire to produce the “perfect sentence” is something I have seen frequently over the years among students in my classes. I watch as they mentally sort out the arrangement of words, painstakingly positioning them in their mind’s eye, taking what seems like forever. Worst of all, by the time they do finally utter that carefully planned phrase, the conversation has either moved on to a new topic or, in a one-on-one exchange, died completely. I call this painfully slow mental arrangement of words “overthink”. Maybe it is specific to the Japanese learner’s psyche but I suspect not. After all, I did it myself so many years ago at the Tamano train station.

So how do you get around this problem? Awareness comes first. In class, I point out that a perfectly structured sentence produced VERY slowly ends up being incomprehensible. A quickly spoken phrase in “broken English” is often much easier to understand as long as the key words are there. For this reason, I call the strategy “Keywording”. Second, I tell my traumatic ticket buying tale, pointing out that it can irritate the locals if you don’t speed things up. Finally, I point out that learners themselves use such “broken” phrases in their mother tongue (e.g. when buying a cinema ticket). Why should they expect their second language to be held to a higher, “perfect” standard?

After this spiel, I subject my students to various activities which require they

give information to others within a set time, for example, directions to their favorite coffee shop in 30 seconds. Given this VERY short time frame, there is obvious pressure. I start with students whom I know can pull it off and serve as a model for the rest of the class. Sometimes the atmosphere gets a little frantic with the “talker” blurting key words out in staccato while “listeners” clarify, hurriedly take notes or draw pictures. But this pandemonium doesn’t bother me. My goal is to have students realize that they can get their message across with key words and without “overthink”. If you feel adventurous, check out this link for materials to use in your own classes : Keywording Classroom Materials

Yes, my students are under stress when I conduct “keywording” activities in class but, if they can cope and communicate in class, they are better prepared to face the real world. Pressure is what non-native speakers often face as they try to get their point across in a foreign tongue. Ask any clerk at a station ticket window – but wait until the train has pulled out!

(If you are really a fool for languages, check out my language learning website, http://en.sulantra.com/, with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German , Korean and Italian!)

28. Changing Learner Behavior – The Proof

In blog entry 27, I described an awful episode where one of my students at Mitsui Engineering and Shipbuilding (MES) tried to bluff his way through a contract negotiation in English, nodding his consent while understanding practically nothing. As a result, he ended up trapped between an irate foreign agent and his furious boss – and got me thinking that learners should study more than just language. I was convinced that they also needed behavioral training with clear models to help them negotiate breakdowns in communication.

I came up with a “Control” model for attacking the problem head on when you do not understand. It consisted of three stages: STOP the other speaker; clarify until you do UNDERSTAND, for example, by asking for repetition or meaning; and, finally, CHECK to confirm that you have understood correctly.

The “Control” model seemed an easy one for my students to wrap their heads around; however, the approach was radical at the time. None of the major textbooks on the market approached language training in such an aggressive manner. As a result, I spent considerable energy preparing my own materials to introduce then reinforce the “Control” model in my lessons. Students were encouraged to interrupt and clarify me, as well as each other, when they had trouble comprehending. After some initial hesitance, many began to do so with a vengeance.

After three years, I moved from MES to teach part-time at several institutions, including a national university. I continued to train my students in “Control” and other behavioral models resulting in complaints from some university professors. It seems that learners trained in my classes were considered “rude” since they kept interrupting and asking questions when they didn’t understand. I said that I would talk with my students. I did telling them that they should always clarify when they did not comprehend the droning of their professors planted at the blackboard (referred to hereabouts as “chalk-and-talk”)

Soon I was seriously analyzing my attempts to communicate in Japanese and most of the training models I came up with were derived from my own speech behavior. As my files of classroom materials grew, I began sharing ideas with other teachers, particularly at meetings of the Japan Association of Language Teachers (JALT), giving numerous workshops on training learners in communication strategies. Sometimes I would come up against skeptics who complained that my approach wasn’t “legitimate” since it was not based on existing methodologies and/or research. Others argued that I was turning my students into clarifying “monsters”.

At times it was frustrating to watch colleagues with questionable teaching skills being offered fulltime positions because they had advanced degrees. Some would stand at the front of the classroom and pontificate while their students read comic books or slept at the back of the room, yet they got on with their careers. Without a Masters degree, I was relegated to part-time teaching limbo. Finally, I decided to bite the bullet and headed to the UK to work on a MA in Applied Linguistics.

Why the UK? Frankly, as a Canadian I fell between the cracks in the Japanese job market. Some universities wanted British professors since they were “traditional”, which apparently was prestigious; others chose Americans who were considered more contemporary in sound and style. Canucks were stereotyped as friendly barbarians who took canoes to class and cooked on campfires. At least this was the impression I got when I looked into positions at universities in the area where I lived. I suspected that, armed with a degree from the UK, I could get a foot in the door with the “British” schools, while my accent was Yankee enough to satisfy the institutions fixated with the United States.

In 1986, I headed off to Essex University intending to research the potential for changing the behavior of non-natives as they tried to communicate in English. After some groveling to find a professor to act as my advisor, I succeeded in receiving approval for my research. I turned out to be the only student to do original research among my classmates.

For my research subjects, I used twenty Japanese students studying at Essex University and for my training model I used “Control” since both were familiar territory. I set up three stages for my experiments. In the first stage, all of the students were asked to listen to a story and put a series of graphics in order. The visuals were impossible to arrange logically without clarifying. Most of the students listened, looked confused then arranged the photos in what they hoped was the correct sequence. None succeeded.

In the second phase, half of the students received an hour of “Control” training, while the other half did not, then everyone performed a variation of the original exercise. As suspected, those with training clarified and put the visuals in the correct order, while those without training continued to fumble about, guessing or giving up.

The third and final stage was much more interesting. I waited three months then had my flatmate, Jeremy, who was majoring in Law, assist me in conducting a second series of interviews. Ten of the original participants were selected at random, five trained in “Control”, five without training. Jeremy contacted them to ask if they would be willing to participate in a survey to determine how much the average Japanese knew about their legal system. All agreed, each choosing a time and place to meet for the interview.

The results were fascinating. Those with “Control” training were more assertive, clarifying and answering Jeremy’s questions logically once they understood. Furthermore, they had “mutated” and were asking questions not contained in the original model, as well as using more sophisticated strategies, such as paraphrasing what they thought questions meant. They had become more assertive in their efforts to understand and be understood.

As for the group without “Control” training, they were stuck in the same rut they had been in three months earlier, pretending to understand questions then hazarding an answer, often with amusing results. One young woman with a British boyfriend would “contemplate” each of Jeremy’s questions by saying “Yeah, that’s a cool question. Gee, it’s hard to say. I guess so…” She said this for every question, including those which required more than a “yes” or “no” answer! Listening to her bluff, I wondered how in the world she communicated with her boyfriend.

Another subject had graduated with a Law degree from a prestigious Japanese university and was doing a second degree in Law at Essex. In theory, he should have had no problem with Jeremy’s questions but turned out to be the most challenged. For example, when asked if prostitution was legal in Japan, he paused for several seconds then stated emphatically, “Yes, we have a constitution.” Ouch!

After completing my research, I was approached not only by the Japanese students who had not received training, but also by other foreign students who were in their classes. The grapevine was alive and well, and everyone wanted to learn “that Control stuff”. As a result, I gave an open demonstration attended by about sixty students and professors which I recorded, edited and submitted with my graduation thesis. I hope to upload it on my blog soon.

I left Essex University with my MA in hand, satisfied that I had done solid research and could now respond to critics of my training approach with empirical evidence. I was also completely broke, the fate of many scholars who go overseas and pay substantially more for the privilege of studying at a foreign institution. Thus, I boarded a plane back to Japan literally hours after being notified that I would receive my degree, ready to go to work and pay off my debts.

 

Subsequently, I published academic papers about the “Control” model and my research at Essex. For those who are seriously into academic jargon and references, check out these links: Measuring Receptive Communication Strategies and Control An Independent Learning Model. For language teachers who want to try “Control” training in their own classes, check these links for handouts to use in your classes Control Classroom Handout and The Active Learner. As for everyone else, suffice to say that you can change your behavior and communicate more effectively in a foreign language with “Control”. The concepts have been built into my website, www.sulantra.com, to help you do this. Definitely check it out, too!

(If you are really a fool for languages, check out my language learning website, http://en.sulantra.com/, with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German , Korean and Italian!)

27. An Assertive Mindset – Control

At the end of my studies at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, I left Canada for what I thought was a one-year work stint in Japan. That was about thirty-five years ago. As mentioned in blog entry 11, in 1978 I passed a job interview with Mitsui Engineering and Shipbuilding (MES) by stuffing my face with sushi in Los Angeles and soon found myself in Tamano, a small company town on Japan’s Inland Sea. Being the only foreigner on staff at the shipyard, I was forever being asked to help with a range of tasks most of which I was not really qualified for, such as proofreading (think rewriting) technical specifications and reports.

I still remember my first MES report, a mish-mash of engineering jargon about rust and pitting on a gear tooth face. The initial page took me six hours to rewrite – and there were twenty-one pages to go! But I eventually became comfortable with the idiosyncrasies of English written by Japanese and the pages of technical mumbo jumbo gradually became decipherable.

As for the town of Tamano, it was small and even with my horrible sense of direction I could soon find my way around. The simplest of daily activities often proved an exotic learning experience and I felt constantly stimulated. At work, I developed a routine of consultations with engineers about their documents sandwiched between my classes and put in long days doing what I hoped was a good job. I made every effort to be a model MES employee.

At weekends, I dove into company life spending time with colleagues and students going on picnics in the surrounding hills, visiting hot springs, or picking mandarin oranges on nearby islands. Although big cities like Tokyo or Osaka had their attractions, to my way of thinking I had made the right choice by heading off the beaten track to experience the “real” Japan in Tamano. I was very pleased with my new life.

Then one horrible day in my second month harsh reality reared its ugly head. I was sitting at my desk in the Personnel Section surrounded by about fifty other co-workers. We had just finished lunch and, as I was slipping my chopsticks back into their storage case, the doors burst open and a very angry foreigner glared around the room then headed straight for me. He slammed his fist on my desk and, in a thick British accent shouted, “What the hell are you teaching these people!?” I was mortified.

It seems the man represented an insurance firm and had just spent several hours with one of the engineers from my classes negotiating a contract to be used for a ship built in the Tamano yards. My student had nodded his agreement to each of the terms suggested by the British agent who then entered “final” versions on his electric typewriter (desktop computers didn’t exist yet). After several hours of proceeding in this manner, the agent thought that he had completed the contract and submitted it to my student’s section chief – who hit the roof and refused to sign the document!

It seems that my student had agreed to each contract term while not understanding what the British agent was saying. He had nodded, desperately hoping to grasp the essence of what was being talked about later in the discussion. He hadn’t and the end result was a contract that Mitsui considered unacceptable. My student was trapped between an irate insurance agent and a furious boss, and I was suffering the collateral damage at my desk. How had things gone so horribly wrong?

To be honest, I myself was having trouble with the British agent’s northern accent. There was no way that my student could have understood this man’s speech without clarifying and yet my student had taken no action. He had the level of language necessary to ask for repetitions or definitions but was paralyzed to do so.

As the agent ranted at my desk, I had an epiphany. What my students needed as much as language was behavioral training. With a clear model based on efficient behavior they might develop the confidence to tackle their communication problems head on rather than bluffing, pretending to understand when they didn’t. In Canada, I had some vague ideas about what my students needed to do in order to understand and be understood, but now I had a specific communication breakdown to analyze. In doing so, I came up with a concrete behavioral model with stages and language, which I called “Control”.

The “Control” model is made up of the following three stages:

First, learners must recognize when they do not understand and STOP the other speaker. All they need to do is ask “Excuse me?” or “Pardon?” in a polite, firm manner. But this may be easier said than done. Interrupting may feel rude; however, bluffing when you do not understand can be much more offensive as my MES student discovered.

Second, learners need to identify why they do not UNDERSTAND and take remedial action. For example, if the other person is talking too fast, “More slowly, please.” should address the problem. Maybe there is one word that doesn’t make sense. Fortunately for English learners, key words are usually stressed and asking “What does that mean?” will elicit an explanation, as well as provide a sense of the learners’ comprehension level for the other person. As for challenging accents like that of the insurance agent, learners can ask “How do you spell that?” Words might be recognized if they are written down, particularly technical terms. My MES students knew the jargon for their field; they just hadn’t heard these words pronounced by someone from Manchester or Mobile.

Finally, when they think they grasp the meaning, learners should confirm their understanding, or CHECK, by asking “You mean...?” or “Are you saying...?” followed by a definition in their own words – or gestures if language is limited.

Over time I became convinced that the “Control” model was what my MES students truly needed to survive in the workplace. The only problem was that no textbooks I knew of emphasized this so I had to develop my own activities and materials to teach the “Control” model. Several years later I conducted research with Japanese students at Essex University in the UK to determine whether such behavioral training influenced their ability to communicate. I will describe this research in my next blog posting. Suffice to say my studies showed that you could change behavior and help learners communicate more effectively.

I have also taken “Control” online and built components of the model into my language learning website, www.sulantra.com. I know from personal experience that this training model works. Whenever I begin to study a new language, from the outset I learn the key language necessary for “Control”. Even at a basic level, I can maneuver in a conversation.

I have had students who read dictionaries and memorize grammar tables in their free time. But if they cannot comfortably apply this language in the real world, if they allow themselves to be intimidated by the target language when they try to communicate, where is the value? My MES student was humiliated in the workplace by his lack of confidence and inability to clarify. Training with the “Control” model helps protect learners from being “bludgeoned” verbally as they strive to use a new language.

Power to the learner!

(If you are really a fool for languages, check out my language learning website, http://en.sulantra.com/, with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German , Korean and Italian!)

26. Improving With Age

There is one final teaching story in Canada that I almost forgot to mention, which is ironic given that it deals with memory and older learners. My volunteer work with immigrant women through Vancouver’s Immigrant Services Society (see blog entries 17 & 18) caught the attention of the University of British Columbia’s Language Institute and, in my final year at UBC, I was asked to participate in an experimental project to research long distance learning. Participants living in isolated communities were expected to watch a series of soap opera-style TV shows developed by the university, then take part in a 2-hour class on Saturday mornings using study materials based on what they had watched. Subjects were divided by age and/or ethnic community then assigned to a “para-instructor”.

When it came time to assign the classes I was taken to the coordinator’s office and informed that my students were a group of senior citizens living in a Mennonite colony about three hours drive from Vancouver. I was told not to get my hopes up and not to be disappointed if (when?) my students’ progress was minimal. Given their advanced years, the assumption was that, no matter how much effort I put in, the results would be negligible. What a dismal way to start a course.

My first Saturday, I got up early and began the 3-hour drive to the colony determined to be on time for the 10:00 a.m. lesson. I had done my homework and was dressed in a somber black suit in an effort to be culturally sensitive. After what seemed like an eternity of driving through fields of vegetables and fruit groves, I finally found the community center where the classes were to be held near the small rural community of Clearbrook. I parked my car and nervously entered to discover a group of fifteen elderly men and women all dressed in brightly-hued shirts and dresses. I felt completely out of place! Later, when I got up the nerve to ask about their rainbow colors, one of the older members, Agathe, proudly replied, “We are a progressive colony.” They certainly were.

During class break I asked many questions. The colony was obviously self-sufficient and functioned almost entirely in Low German, or Plattdeutsch. I couldn’t understand why they had agreed to be part of the university’s experiment. Why did they feel the need to learn English?

As it turned out, the core reason was the same for each person. Many of their children had left the colony and were working in nearby towns or Vancouver. When they visited with their grandchildren the latter were using English to communicate. It was this desire to stay in touch with their grandchildren that fueled the group’s eagerness to tackle English in their senior years. The youngest students were in their mid-60’s while the eldest, Heinrich, proudly informed me the moment we met that he was 84 years old.

Every week when I arrived, the group would be seated at long tables waiting expectantly for the lesson to begin. Spirits were high and study sessions were filled with joking and a constant stream of questions. Each lesson was a social occasion with everyone having a great time, including me.

But there were some awkward moments, too. At the beginning of my third class several participants fingered Maria, one of the more jovial members, for not having watched the weekly TV show. The one television set on the colony was located in the community center where we held our lessons and, if someone missed a session, everyone knew about it. Maria’s absence was verified by fourteen heads nodding solemnly and, despite my assurance that it “wasn’t a big deal”, she apologized profusely – and never missed another communal TV viewing session.

The “Clearbrook gang”, as I had come to call them, taught me many things about learning a language. First, having a specific, PERSONAL goal in mind is crucial for motivation. Mindlessly memorizing unrelated word lists for an examination may work for some students who want good grades, but I suspect percentage points are not a true incentive for the average learner.

Second, group-based study can be much more productive, especially if the group gets along well together. Lessons become a social event, which was certainly the case in Clearbrook. When learners have fun studying together, they look forward to the next class.

Third, a little psychological pressure can go a long way, particularly if it is applied by peers rather than the teacher. Knowing that all eyes would be upon her, Maria never missed another TV show. And perhaps for the same reason, the Clearbrook gang had the best attendance record of all other groups that participated in the UBC study. The peer pressure may have seemed a little draconian, however, it worked to everyone’s advantage.

Which brings me to my final revelation. Despite the university coordinator’s limited expectations, the Clearbrook gang achieved the greatest level of improvement in the study. I was so proud! And I realized that, if the need is there and the learning environment supportive, age is irrelevant when it comes to language learning. Sure, younger people may have an edge in the memory department; however, the seniors of this Mennonite colony clearly demonstrated that the brain could still function effectively despite advanced age.

When I did my MA in Applied Linguistics in the UK years later, we were told that after puberty the brain goes through chemical changes and “hardens” making it impossible to really learn a language well as we grow older. I didn’t believe this to be true but the only evidence I had to refute my professors was the tale of older learners on a Mennonite colony outside Vancouver, which flew in the face of the accepted academic knowledge of the times.

A few years ago, I was delighted to stumble across more current research that refutes this “hardened brain” premise. The mesh surrounding the brain remains plastic throughout one’s life and neurons keep firing into our senior years. In other words, as long as your brain is healthy, you can learn a language at any age. Furthermore, in doing so, we reduce the chances of succumbing to cerebral diseases, such as Alzheimers. This is a story for another blog posting.

I made one final trip to Clearbrook in early summer to say good-bye before heading overseas for employment in Japan. The class held a “picnic” outdoors at a long table and everything we ate was homemade – the bread, the cheese, even the wine. Each person explained in English what they had brought to the table, as well as what they had gotten from our language classes. It was a wonderful send-off!

As for me, I told them that I had learned much more than they could ever imagine. The Clearbrook gang members were not an aberration – seniors can learn a language – and I only hope to have half of their intelligence and energy when I reached that age. I told them this when my turn came to talk. And I made my speech in white linen pants and a bright blue shirt. I had become more progressive, too.

(If you are really a fool for languages, check out my language learning website, http://en.sulantra.com/, with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German , Korean and Italian!)

25. When in Rome… learn some language!

As those following this blog know, I have talked about my various language learning and teaching adventures in Canada, including tutoring the family of the Malaysian Deputy High Commissioner in Ottawa (see blog entry14), working as a summer school instructor for Cree children in northern Manitoba (see blog entry 15), training Punjabi women to survive at the Immigrant Services Center (see blog entries 17 & 18) waiting tables at my Chinese instructor’s restaurant (see blog entry 24) then knocking on doors for Healthiest Babies Possible, a multilingual, perinatal nutrition counseling service provided by Vancouver’s City Health Department (see blog entry 22). But there is still one last tale to tell from my homeland.

While working part-time as a sound technician in the University of British Columbia’s language laboratory (another job picked up because of my interest in languages) I heard from a coworker about short term guide positions at Habitat, the United Nations’ conference on human settlements held in Vancouver in 1976. With a rather taunting voice, my friend said that she had applied the previous week and, since the application deadline had passed the day before, unfortunately, I would be unable to join her in the interview line. I immediately rushed to UBC’s job placement center and pleaded for an application form. Since the completed applications had not been picked up yet, I was given one – much to my friend’s chagrin.

As things turned out, after a stressful hour-long interview in English and French with three interrogators firing questions at me, I was offered a plum position at the Habitat Media Center. My job was originally to cater to the needs of visiting news reporters from around the globe but, after a week of training, the manager approached me with a new job offer. How would I like to become one of the three supervisors responsible for coordinating the Center staff? Although my shift would be the late night one, she mentioned a substantial pay increase. Frankly, I would have done the job for nothing!

The Habitat Media Center was a language lover’s dream come true. Staff rushed about assisting an international assortment of media personnel in no less than twenty-five different tongues. We had been warned by the manager that, given our direct involvement with the scribes, radio announcers and TV personalities who were covering Habitat, one misstep on our part could adversely effect the image of the conference. As a result, we made tremendous efforts to fill our visitors’ every whim, always with a “Center smile” glued in place as we babbled away.

Although there were no major mishaps, “mini-emergencies” were ongoing and with events happening all over the city, the media people seemed to be forever asking for directions, especially those from overseas. The night shift was a particularly busy one since, after a long day of Habitat activities, reporters needed to file stories with deadlines set according to the time zone of their home countries. Most people functioned on a steady diet of Center coffee and almost no sleep!

When someone approached the long Media Center counter with a panicked look in their eyes, the first step was to remain calm, flash a Center smile, and try to figure out which language we had in common. After that, I would identify the person’s need then assign a uniformed media assistant to sort things out. I started by checking the person’s media badge to determine which language might be understood. “English? No. Vous parlez français? Ah... Italiano.” Somehow we would manage to communicate.

But there were glitches in the routine. The first night, a young couple arrived looking disoriented and distressed. I glanced at their badges and realized that I could not pronounce the names. I had no idea what language assistance they needed. Their coloring was very fair and I assumed they came from northern Europe, but the pair had no apparent knowledge of English and my halting German drew no response. There were three other assistants on duty but none of us had a language that worked. We all sat down with cups of coffee and I started drawing a primitive map of Europe on a paper napkin, calmly repeating “Where? Où? Wo?...” The young man suddenly took my pen, stabbed the napkin in an area I was not very familiar with, and said something that sounded like “Hell...”

Ah! Helsinki, Finland. Several napkins and a lot of gesturing later, we established that they had just arrived and needed an inexpensive place to stay. Within minutes we had their accommodations lined up and, given their subsequent daily presence in the Media Center, had also made some grateful friends. Or maybe they were just afraid to venture out into the city.

Based on observation of visitors to Habitat, as well as my own subsequent journeys, I quickly realized how vital it is to be able to communicate in the local language, even if only at a rudimentary level. But many travelers don’t bother making the effort. Perhaps the worst offenders are English speakers who assume the world functions in their language. Once leaving the safety of their foreign hotel lobby, they are often dismayed to learn that this is not the case.

But speakers of my native tongue are not the only offenders. In Bangkok, I have watched Japanese tourists being waited on in Japanese in a souvenir shop for obvious commercial reasons, leave the shop and proceed to ask for directions on the street in Japanese from a local who doesn’t have a clue what they are talking about!

When journeying overseas, joining a tour group with a flag-toting guide who speaks your mother tongue is simple and safe. But stepping outside of your comfort zone and making the effort to learn some local language will give you much more freedom and definitely increase the potential for a more exhilarating, personal travel adventure.

And it really doesn’t take that much effort. If the material is focused around functions and the language is recycled, I estimate it takes approximately 10 to 15 hours to have the average traveler functioning in a foreign language at a basic level. In my next blog posting I will talk about the classroom research that I have conducted for over thirty years which has lead me to this conclusion. As for online study, I know from personal experience that using my website, http://www.sulantra.com/, for an hour of study each day starting one month before heading to the airport is sufficient for me to get by on the streets of a foreign country. Not fluent but certainly functioning.

Attempting to use the language of the country you are visiting has many benefits. Most locals will be delighted that you are trying to speak their tongue and will reciprocate with kindness and patience. By making the effort, you are sending a message that you want to get to know the local culture on a deeper level. Your journey will be more memorable and special. Honestly!

(If you are really a fool for languages, check out my language learning website, http://en.sulantra.com/, with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German , Korean and Italian!)

24. Learning the Words You Need

In 1977, I returned to Vancouver from China disillusioned with my studies in Mandarin (see blog entry 23). I had translated the Chinese constitution and could talk about the valiant effort of workers in the fields and factories but had almost no language for day to day activity. Frustrated, I approached my Chinese teacher, Mrs. S for help. She suggested that I get a job in a Chinese restaurant, specifically HER Chinese restaurant!

I started working part-time in Mrs. S’s restaurant in the third year of university. Although I was nervous in the beginning, it was exciting to learn and apply language in “the real world”. Many of the customers were Asian immigrants and were startled to see me stroll out of the kitchen to take their orders. To complicate matters, the kitchen turned out to be staffed with Cantonese-speaking cooks from southern China. At first, there were bewildered looks on both sides when I delivered my orders in English and/or Mandarin then received a clipped Cantonese acknowledgement, but gradually we grew to understand each other using a pastiche of all three languages.

My experience in Mrs. S’s restaurant taught me that we learn the words and phrases we need. It wasn’t long before I could apologize to customers in Cantonese and/or Mandarin for my limited speaking ability before rattling off the daily specials in one or another of the languages in my new workplace. Today I surprise myself with how many of the dishes I remember when eating at “dim sum/dian xin”, the ubiquitous brunches found wherever there is a sizeable Chinese population. The menu is apparently burned into my brain since I recollect the names of most of the delicacies being wheeled past me on carts.

Years later I observed this “learn-what-you-need” principle with eight of my Japanese students. They had completed a 12-hour training program in Thai before flying off for onsite testing in Bangkok and Ubon Ratchathani in the northeastern region of Thailand. In Bangkok, the students worked in pairs to successfully complete a series of tasks they had been trained for, such as bargaining in the marketplace or purchasing tickets on the overnight train to Ubon. They were delighted with their ability to communicate and everyone’s level of confidence was soaring. But it was in Ubon where they truly blossomed.

Through friends, I had made contact with a local university where students were studying English and Japanese. Upon our arrival, the Japanese and Thai students got to know each other over formal activities, such as a welcoming luncheon and campus tour, then were left to their own devices. Each day the local students would meet us at the university dormitory where we were staying and outline a tentative plan for the day. Sometimes they would disappear in one large group, other times they wandered off in small “teams” venturing into the Isan countryside.

I should mention that my group was comprised entirely of young men, while the Thai group was made up mainly of young women. Over the course of their three days together they developed a unique lingua franca, a mixture of Thai, English, Japanese – and the local Isan dialect. At the end of each day, my students would return to the dormitory and regale me with tales of their exploits, such as rafting down rivers or singing karaoke in local shopping centers. They all had become very adept at getting around on “songtaew”, the ubiquitous covered pick-up trucks with benches in the back for passengers, and had tasted exotic local delicacies, such as fried scorpions.

For me, the most interesting aspect of their outings was that they were picking up local Isan slang and teaching the Japanese equivalent to their Ubon counterparts. They would sit in the dormitory lobby at the end of each day, throwing the phrases they had learned back and forth, squealing with laughter, as I stared, an outsider in my own group. By the third day, the Japanese students were developing a colorful assortment of phrases in Isan and I had no idea what they were talking about.

The Ubon students had picked up their own Japanese slang as well and it was obvious that all participants were having a great time communicating. As we boarded our train for the long ride back to Bangkok, there were many tearful good-byes accompanied by phrases that would not soon be forgotten. My students had learned the words they needed, that they found interesting or useful, and had made new friends along the way.

How do you go about getting the language you need for a specific context? There are a number of ways, including the obvious one of going online and searching for words and phrases which meet your anticipated needs. There are a seemingly endless number of dictionary-style sites, particularly for English speakers, where you can find language and, in some cases, even hear a sound model for you to imitate. But these sites present language in isolation and do not lend themselves to real communication. On the street, words produced at random do not make a conversation.

Perhaps one of the most useful phrases you can learn in any tongue is something along the lines of “What’s that?” or “How do you say this?”, which can be used as you point at a concrete object in a clear context. The natives around you will give you the local equivalent of the words or phrases in the regional accent, another important aspect often ignored by generic “dictionary” sites. You pick up the language YOU need, not the phrases dictated by a text or website. I call the process of picking up language from a local “eliciting” and have talked about it in blog entry 12. It is also incorporated into my website, http://www.sulantra.com/.

Occasionally I get together with the students who travelled to Ubon. Some have continued to study Thai, some have not, but all would love to return and pick up where they left off. One young man, Shunsuke, has even developed skills in a new language.

During a job interview just before graduation, Shunsuke regaled his interviewers with tales of his Ubon experience but left the room crestfallen, certain that he had talked too much about his travels instead of his technical expertise. As it turned out, the managers were impressed by his upbeat narrative. The company had acquired an important contract with a firm in Hanoi, but no staff member wanted to go there. Shunsuke seemed to be the perfect candidate.

Four years have passed since Shunsuke was hired and, although he uses Japanese or English in the workplace, he has gone out of his way to pick up some Vietnamese, too. I believe his positive experience in the provincial town of Ubon when he was a university student prepared him with a mindset to tackle new languages and enjoy the process. He understands the importance of communicating with others in their language. He recognizes that the effort creates a good impression and that learning does not have to be an ordeal. As long as you are picking up the language that you really need, the value is obvious and the process can be a pleasure.

(If you are really a fool for languages, check out my language learning website, http://en.sulantra.com/, with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German , Korean and Italian!)