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This is a story about a
young man growing up in Los Angeles in the 1950s. He was a bit strange for
a Californian of that epoch. He of course loved surfing, but he loved
mathematics and physics even more. His dream from a very young age was to
go to university and get a science degree. And that's what he did.
In 1960 he enrolled at University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA).
At that time (I imagine it is still the case), in addition to their
choosing a major, university students were required to take so-called
"cross curriculum" classes in other disciplines. In particular, at UCLA
everyone was required to study a language.
This young man chose German because it was a language of science. This was
a mistake. Not only is German a very difficult language compared to
English, it is almost impossible to learn any language if you are exposed
to it only in the classroom. This of course is the case in the United
States, and in particular at that time English was so dominate that
outside the classroom you would never hear German, or virtually any other
language. Spanish in California was of course an exception; however, in
the 1960s it was no where near as important as it is today.
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Although the professor insisted that "Sie werden Deutsch lernen!" (You
will learn German), our young man was not so certain. "Particle physics
and differential topology are not easy subjects, but German is impossible.
I spend more time and effort on this class and get less out of it than any
other class I have."
The professor of course was wrong. The young man didn't learn German, and
probably neither did anyone else. All he knew was that he was extremely
relieved when the course was finished.
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When he graduated, the young man joined the Peace Corps, the U.S.
government organization established by President Kennedy to send
volunteers to Third World countries to help them with their nation
building. The young man was assigned to Tanzania in East Africa. As part
of their preparation, all volunteers heading to Tanzania were required to
study Swahili, the national language, three hours a day, six days a week
for nine weeks.
"At last a language I will actually be able to use!" the young man
exulted. So he really threw himself into it. He intensely studied every
aspect of Swahili, grammar, vocabulary, syntax, diction, idiomatic
expressions, etc. He was unquestionably the best student in the class.
When the volunteers got to Dar es Salaam, then the Tanzanian capital, four
of them were put on a train and sent to posts in the middle of the
country. At each stop, vendors swarmed around the train to sell bananas,
tangerines, oranges and other local produce. With some difficulty, the
young man was able to speak to the vendors, but he couldn't understand
their replies.
One of the other members of the group had unquestionably been
the poorest Swahili student. At the end of the nine weeks,
she could barely say "hujambo" (hello), yet somehow
she understood what the vendors were saying. So the young
man would speak, the vendors would reply, she would translate,
and he would speak again. "But this makes no sense. How
can you understand them when I can't?" he asked. "I
don't know," she replied. "I guess I just listen
to what they are saying." Suddenly, he realized that
his approach to languages had been academic, not practical.
He was listening for conjugations, singulars and plurals,
inverted verbs and other grammatical constructs, but not to
what people were actually saying.
Once he recognized this, his progress was blindingly rapid. Within a very
few weeks, he found that he was no longer translating through English. He
was actually thinking and speaking directly in Swahili.
"It was like being released from prison. I saw my cell
door swinging open and my mind being set free to fly out.
I could literally feel my brain expanding!" the young
man explains. He now lives in Belgium and has gone on to master
French, has a working knowledge of Dutch and German, and is
currently turning his attention to Spanish.
"You know," he says, "I used to be jealous of people who learned other
languages as a child, not as an adult. But now I'm not so certain. I was
24 before I learned a second language. It wasn't easy; in fact it was
excruciatingly difficult. However, I had an experience that people who
grow up speaking other languages cannot even begin to imagine. Looking
back on it, I don't think I would really want to change that."
I was that young man. I am no longer so young; all of this happened more
than 40 years ago. Having had four decades to reflect on it, I am now
convinced that this life-altering experience firmly demonstrated two
things.
First, under the proper circumstances, anyone can learn to speak other
languages. Having grown up in a country as big as a continent with a
single dominant language, I had fallen victim to the idea that learning
other languages required high intelligence and/or special gifts. I am
extremely happy to have discovered otherwise.
Secondly, I believe that the way languages are taught in the
U.S. is all wrong. The objective of teaching students to speak
the language is manifestly false. They won't, because in most
cases opportunities to use the language are lacking. Pursuing
this objective therefore only demoralizes students and turns
them against language learning per se. American educators
need to recognize that the best they can do is to acquaint
students with a language and lay a foundation for them to
rapidly start speaking it if they ever find themselves in
a place where the language is actually spoken.
Language courses should teach basic grammar passively, i.e. so that
students can easily recognize verb conjugations, singulars and plurals,
formal and familiar pronouns, etc., then concentrate on helping students
to comfortably read in the language, e.g. newspapers, magazines, novels,
etc. If students know how to read a language, once they finish the course
they might continue reading it, thus keeping their knowledge grammar and
vocabulary fresh and ready to use should the opportunity ever arise.
Under current conditions, the moment they leave compulsory
language courses, most students immediately forget whatever
it is they might have learned, so everything is lost. My own
experience demonstrates the value of this approach. When I
had mastered Swahili -- and realized that I could master any
other language I wanted to -- I decided to try my hand at
French. With some effort, I taught myself to read French while
still living in Tanzania. When I returned to Los Angeles,
I continued reading newspapers, magazines, and novels in French,
so five years later when I moved to Belgium, I began speaking
it almost immediately.
I am currently doing the same thing with Spanish. I have essentially no
opportunity to speak Spanish in Belgium, but I now read it almost
fluently. I occasionally spend a week on vacation to Spain. Each time I
do, it takes only one or two days for my mind to switch to Spanish mode,
so that I can begin speaking. Not fluently, but enough to get around. I am
certain that if I were to spend a month or so in Spain, I would rapidly
approach fluency.
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