During the very first few days of my program, I remember having a conversation with one of my fellow classmates that has continued, throughout the entirety of the semester, to perfectly encapsulate the tedious, complex, and yet entirely fascinating process of learning a new language. Our talk followed a particularly-lengthy orientation lecture, during which, at times, I understood enormous portions with ease, and, at others, I was merely grasping at the occasional word or phrase, struggling to put together any complete message. Discussing my frustration towards this inconsistency, my classmate introduced an analogy that has stuck with me ever since, one that likens learning, speaking, and processing a new language to breathing.
When you’re able-bodied and breathing normally, the process is instinctual; it’s not something you notice or must deliberately and constantly exert much effort to do. In fact, it is those moments in which you actually do decide to place conscious focus in your respiration that your brain hiccups, slips, and begins to overthink your actions, forcing yourself into a spiral of irregularity that leaves you short of air. For me, communicating in Spanish shares many of the same parallels. Most of my biggest failures have been borne from instances of panic or terror in which I was painfully aware of the fact I was speaking Spanish, usually in settings of pressure, such as asking for directions on the street or posing a question to a professor, in which all I could think was “wow if I don’t understand this I am screwed.” Of course, this panic only led to the inevitable – that I didn’t understand – and I would always be left paralyzed like a deer in headlights, scrambling to process what I had just heard.
From this, I’ve realized that the majority of the process of learning and refining skills in a different language is not so much based in grammatical or tactic skills, it’s finding the mindset and the confidence to feel comfortable with the language – call it your language “Zen” if you will – in which your brain isn’t bogged down by unnecessary overthinking or moments of panic. I imagine that finding this “zen” is also similar to what was described to me by a former Spanish professor (hi Dr. B!) in response to my various anxieties over taking economics and politics courses in Spanish: that though at first the constant presence of Spanish for long periods of time would seem daunting, even impossible, my brain, as a form of survival, would “switch,” and thinking, listening, and reading in Spanish would become far easier.
For a while, I viewed achieving this transition, and my Spanish skills in general, as something slippery, fleeting, and delicate, something that could be easily lost after a day or two of not continually speaking or practicing Spanish and that required constant, vigilant upkeep. This perspective, while a bit of a hardline approach, held, in part, some merit, as I noticed after talking to my mother on the phone or spending the day with English-speakers, going home and talking to my house family was much more difficult and required time to “warm up” my partially-dormant language muscles to once again talk at my normal level. Yet it also placed an undue burden or pressure on myself, and for a good portion of the program I felt continually anxious or stressed that I wasn’t doing enough to improve my abilities, at times even feeling guilty for talking in English. Moreover, this view did nothing to improve my skills, only serving as a distraction as I continually self-critiques and over-analyzed every mistake made or word pronounced wrong, convincing myself that I couldn’t speak the language.
Thankfully, my outlook on learning Spanish has evolved alongside my skills. Now, I view my abilities as something much more durable, static, and semi-foundational, with their development more akin to a continual process of building stairs or stepping stones. Each interaction, conversation, or day in which I speak Spanish is an opportunity to build off the growth I’ve already made, and the progress already established is not so easily lost. Whether this mindset is attributable to my increased confidence towards or skills in Spanish, or vice-versa, there’s a noticeable difference in how I’m able to communicate and the expectations I place on myself while doing so.
Yet I’ve also learned that, no matter how comfortable or confident I feel, my language abilities come and go in waves, as some instances I’m able to talk with ease and others is a constant battle or push. There will always be days in which I struggle to form even the most basic sentence or maintain the full breadth or extent of my vocabulary. Yet what has changed is the way in which I cope or move on from those conversations, hours, or even days in which my brain, and the ways in which I allow these mistakes to represent (or rather, not represent) the general growth I’ve made in improving my conversational skills.
Hasta la próxima vez,
Kenzie