Talking the talk

Inevitably a small group of his classmates will gather around us, excitedly tugging on my sleeves, eager to have a chance to test their very limited English vocabulary. Amid the anxious shouts for my attention I will hear “Hello, how are you?” interspersed with whispers to my son in Turkish, asking him what we are saying to each other. As the only foreign parent at the school, I am also the only non-native speaker. The children long ago decided that my grasp of the Turkish language left a lot to be desired, so now they attempt to test my knowledge of English by trying to communicate with me via the few words they have learned so far in class. Over the past year I have been told the colors of all the fruits and asked my age too many times to count by the daring first graders who gathered up their courage to push to the front of the crowd, grab my arm and speak up, albeit haltingly. Over time, as I have encouraged their efforts, I have begun to notice that more of Ali Adem’s classmates are ready to try their hand at speaking to me in English.

The parents usually hover nearby, trying to eavesdrop on our attempts at conversation and watching to see if their children will take the opportunity to show off their budding linguistic abilities with the only native English speaker in the school. Afterwards, as we are leaving the school grounds, one or two parents will often hesitantly approach and ask me in Turkish about their child’s progress in English. It is hard to honestly evaluate a student’s understanding of a new language during a conversation of just a few rudimentary sentences, but the parents seem anxious to hear that their son or daughter is grasping at least a few of the basics at a young age.

Some of the parents know at least as much of my language as I know of theirs, but I have noticed that they seem almost shy about speaking English to me. Instead, they allow me to use my mangled Turkish to try and communicate, all the while smiling graciously at my feeble attempts. When I become stuck for words they will sometimes switch to English, but it is apparent that they prefer not to try their own hand at my native tongue. I wonder why it is that children will happily use the few phrases they have learned with no thought about whether or not they are using complete sentences or if the grammar is correct, while some adults become more cautious about using a foreign language and possibly making mistakes in front of a native speaker.

I have observed that the elementary school students have no fear of answering questions of mine in English. But, some of the high school students, who I know speak beautiful English, become tongue-tied when I speak with them or ask them questions. It’s as if somewhere in the maturing process they suddenly want to avoid making mistakes in public. I’m sure that when I took my first Turkish class I too had that same “deer in the headlights” look of panic whenever anyone addressed me in Turkish. Now, however, if I don’t understand someone I just ask them to rephrase it or explain it in simpler terms for me. It has taken awhile, but I am no longer concerned about whether or not I am mixing up verb tenses or if my sentence structure is wrong. I just try to communicate, oblivious to whether or not I sound like a small child trying to unravel the intricacies of the language.

And like me, my son’s classmates are willing to use whatever language skills they have, no matter how limited they might be. In the process we have managed to learn a few words from each other. I am still considered by them as the oddity among the parents -- the mother who doesn’t quite understand everything going on around her. But, in spite of my lack of fluency, I still keep trying to follow conversations and join in when possible. And if my sentences are confused and my explanations too wordy, my feeling is that at least I am trying to communicate. Hopefully the children in my son’s class will understand from my example that they should continue to press ahead and not worry about the possibility of making mistakes. It’s the fact that we try, and have fun in the process, that matters.