You gotta have somebody to blame. I mean how can you really argue with a language? And so it was that when I became frustrated and ready to throw punches at the verb conjugations and crazy grammatical rules of Spanish, I invented him…Señor Spanish. And even to this day, when I encounter unruly grammatical exceptions, rebellious irregular verbs, or the ongoing wrestling match with the verbs ser and estar, I raise my hands high into the air and cry out for Señor Spanish to show himself and fight like a man. Yes, it’s true, I have a love and hate relationship with the Spanish language.
My journey of learning this new language began as any journey with the Lord begins for me, one full of hope, joy, and promise. But then it happened. I hit the brick wall called Spanish. Yes, I was warned that the wall was there. Yes, I was warned that the wall was hard. But just as with other experiences in my life, I didn’t fully respect that advice until I was able to walk over and beat my own head on it.
This being my first foreign language study, it wasn’t just the wall of Spanish that gave me fits, but the entire idea of language study that confounded my brain day and night. My “whys” of the new language were quickly exhausted as I realized it really didn’t matter why, all that mattered was because. As I began to be bombarded by Señor Spanish, him keeping me up at night with dreams of Spanish words and invading my every thought during the day, it prodded me to begin a deeper exploration into what was happening to my brain, nay, my very being. I could feel the language permeating the cells of my body, forcing its way into my existence. Like no other subject in my educational history, this new language was melding, bonding, and infiltrating how I thought, what I said, and who I really was.
To really look at the psychology of language study you must first take a step back and look at the importance of human communication. The most basic of all human emotions is to be loved and understood. And to be understood, you need to incorporate the three basic components of the communication model: sending, receiving, and comprehension. And to allow that model to be completed effectively, we have languages. As I was feeling each day of language class seep in, it was slowly and deliberately changing the way, and the audience, in which I would be able to express and understand the world God had placed me in. A revelation of my current communication expansion that drilled deep into the marrow of my being.
Yet you cannot talk about one year of total language immersion without talking about the seeming madness that accompanies it. As I struggled to understand what was happening to me, I began a more careful and cautious examination of the process. And hence, I discovered several steps and several phenomena that were present; shaping, changing, and teaching me. Please allow me to share my journey.
Drinking from a firehose. On the first day of language school as that 2 pound “level one” textbook is dropped heavily on the table in front of you, you know that your brain is about to hurt. I mean to speak any language you first must absorb and understand all of the vocabulary, conjugations, grammar, pronouns, idioms, articles, hyperbole, and oh, don’t forget the vital importance of the local slang that is interlaced within every language. And then there’s also the verb conjugations, that is, the tense of your statement. Do you want your Spanish sentence to be in present, copreterite, ante-present, preterit, future, subjunctive, simple conditional, future progressive, or simple imperative? Well, pick one, and then you need to be able to conjugate the imperative of that verb into every single form so that you can then use it. Daunting as it may seem, the problem was, where do you even start the process? Let me just say, you pay the process with time, effort, tenacity, patience, and a lot of Tylenol. I wish I had a dollar for every hour I have practiced verb conjugations, studied vocabulary, wrote sentences, and yes, even sometimes just sat and expressed my disgust and hearty disapproval of evil Señor Spanish. Hey, we gotta be honest right?
The first 4 months are brutal. Imagine excitedly walking into a new church, eager to meet new brothers and sisters in Christ and ready to hear a sermon preached upon the Word of God. Now imagine that the entire experience is in another language, and you will not understand one word of it. Welcome to the beginning of your year in language immersion. I’ll never forget my first church service here in Puebla. As the 40-minute Spanish sermon wrapped up, I felt as if an unwelcomed train engineer had somehow found a new set of tracks and driven his locomotive right through my gray matter. I vividly recall that new type of headache, one that would now be visiting me often. The Spanish headache. As I headed for the nearest bottle of Mexican ibuprofen, I wondered just exactly what causes this strange new language headache. Which leads us into...
Language drift. I realized that in order to catch even a word or two of every Spanish sentence spoken at normal conversational pace, I had to reach for a level of mental focus that I’m not sure I had ever called upon before. I needed all of my senses to be at peak performance, and not for just a few minutes, but for every minute that I was encountering Spanish, which is a lot, I mean I’m living in Mexico. I had, my entire life, taken for granted the ability to hear and understand English with minimal to no effort. I could read a book and listen to the television and hear and understand both. Piece of cake. I could write a blog and listen to music and be fully engaged in both. Easy cheesy. But Señor Spanish required a level of focus from me that utterly took all I had. And as I attempted to maintain this high level of focus for extended periods of time, a funny thing happened. My brain staged a coup and revolted. As I was forcing my brain to attempt to understand something it could not, it quietly got up and left the room. Forced to be in the ranks of Señor Spanish for extended periods of time, my brain went A.W.O.L. And so, I had to call upon the mental M.P.’s to go and find my focus and drag him back, kicking and screaming in protest. But I found that as my attention drifted over and over again, it required even more effort to bring my focus back and then reengage him in that extreme level of focus that was needed to understand even an inkling of what my ears were hearing. And it was in this constant, vicious, yo-yo game of “language drift” that I was experiencing extreme tired head and eventually the Spanish headache. And just why in the beginning is Spanish so hard to understand?
Machine gun Spanish. In central Mexico it’s pretty much assumed that you know Spanish, or at least an adequate amount. Puebla, Mexico is not really a big touristy spot, it’s not near a beach, and it’s not near a border. I would call it more “real” Mexico. That is, real Mexicans, doing real work and living real normal lives. So, if you see someone on the street, even though you’re a gringo (foreign person), that local assumes you know adequate Spanish. And so, a simple “Hola, buenos Dias” from me to a local on the street the first few months I was here, was quickly responded to with a flurry of Spanish that assaulted my ears like 1,500 rounds through a Civil War gatling gun. Machine gun Spanish. A cacophony of Spanish words that hit you like a left hook from an angry Mike Tyson, leaving you stunned and staggering backwards in shock. The normal response to machine gun Spanish? A response similar to a deer in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Freeze. My synapses fire wildly and ask me, what just happened? What did they say? What did I say? What? Which leads to a method you need to embrace in order to live in Mexico your first several months with little to no Spanish…
Mexican charades. How comical it would have been if I were able to video our first few months here. Science tells us if one or more of our senses are taken away, the others will heighten in order to maintain our sensical stability. And so it is when your language is taken away. When the words won’t come to offer the needed communication, the hands spring into action. Arms, fingers, and hands waving wildly as you attempt to use self-created impromptu Spanish sign language to get your point across to the person in front of you. I recall in our first month in Puebla needing to get a duplicate key made for our apartment. And so I went strolling around our beautiful new city to find a locksmith. Yet as I found one, I realized I did not know the Spanish word for lock, make, I need, or key. Huh. The conversation must have been beyond entertaining for the locksmith. I used my key as if it were a Hollywood movie prop, waving it around as if it could somehow speak the Spanish I could not. And then I mimicked a key machine making a new key, or what I though a Mexican key machine would do as it attempted to cut Mexican metal. I never did get that key…ahhh, Mexican charades, what fun times.
The two C’s.
But as the months passed and I grew into more Spanish and was able to foundationally communicate, I found myself on an uncontrollable roller coaster of Spanish ability. Some days seemed great, the newly found words, pronunciation, and conjugations rolling off the tongue like marbles on glass. But yet the very next day could be just the opposite, the Spanish words coarse on the tongue, the mental extraction of the words and thoughts rusty, as if they hadn’t been oiled in months. Why? I discovered yet another odd conundrum facing me, what I called the first “C”, comfort. When I was comfortable with the person I was speaking to and comfortable in my setting, my fledging Spanish was quite ready to cooperate. And when this cooperation occurred it boosted a second “C”, confidence. And when I was able to grasp adequate comfort and confidence, Señor Spanish seemed more than happy to make a much-appreciated appearance and help me out. Yet just the opposite was possible as well. When I found myself subconsciously uncomfortable, the first few garbled sentences would immediately usurp my confidence and I would quickly find myself in dangerous language waters. We had a saying for this when I was playing football in high school, “psyching yourself out.” That is, when your brain tells you that you can’t do something when you actually can. The struggle therein lies not in the ability to physically do said thing, but in the mental ability to convince yourself that you can. So, I found myself carefully analyzing good Spanish days as well as the not so good Spanish days to see if I could locate a pattern amongst them. Just exactly how do I ensure that I can rest more frequently in the two C’s and not the opposite which psyches me out? And when I got deep enough into that analyzation, I discovered yet another odd language phenomenon. When I called upon Señor Spanish and he wouldn’t come out to play because my two C’s were deficient, I got extremely frustrated and it led me to…
Fleeing Spanish. Fight or flight, a psychological response to when the perils of life creep ever too close. And when they do our psyche tells us we have a choice, stay and duke it out with the threat, or flee to the promised tranquility of safety. Yet I learned this ingrained response is not solely limited to the physical threat, but the emotional and intellectual as well. And so, I have found myself, many times, feeling such intense pain and disappointment with Señor Spanish that I felt myself fleeing from the very language in which I had dedicated myself. The flight response happening sometimes without me even realizing that I was running for the hills, and ultimately, for the warm embrace and comfort of my English. The key to true deep, intentional, permanent language learning? Long-term resistance of the subconscious urge to flee the pain and leave the language. Instead, stay and fight. Yes, Señor Spanish is a formidable opponent indeed, but one that with much prayer and patient practice, can be found not as an enemy, but as a friend, and ultimately, as an ally in sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ.
And so, early on in this language journey with Spanish, God revealed a principle to me that He first revealed to me in what it means to abide in Him daily. Every day is not simply part of the journey, but the journey itself. You see, within each day of abiding in Christ lies the real secret to the journey. And it is no different with learning Spanish. When I open my mouth today and expect to clearly communicate in this new language, it did not magically happen at month 3, 6 or 10, it happened incrementally in the many 24-hour periods of practice, pronunciation, and willingness to stay and fight for the language. And so it was that God delivered a phrase of encouragement and solace to me. And as a result, Margie and I have uttered it hundreds of times as we found ourselves seemingly losing the fight with the two C’s, wanting to flee the language, or dealing yet again with machine gun Spanish and language drift. The phrase?
Cada dia es difícil, pero, cada dia es mejor. The meaning? Every day is difficult, but, every day is better.
Whatever you are facing today, whether it be a new language, work, ministry, or school, do it to the glory of the Lord. As you abide in Christ daily, complete your task utilizing the wisdom He has promised to deliver to those that diligently seek it. And as you do, you will find what you are looking for, not at the end of your journey, but within it.
Cada dia es mejor when you are journeying with the Lord as your lead. As for me, I will continue on in my journey with the Lord in learning Spanish, a journey that I am blessed to be on indeed.
Dios te Bendiga ~ Dan
“But Moses said to the Lord, “Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue.” Then the Lord said to him, “Who has made man's mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.” Exodus 4:10-13 ESV
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