The Language Barrier

There are many quotes about the value of speaking more than language that I could reproduce for you here. I could mention Charlemagne's: "To have another language is to possess a second soul." Or Geothe: "Those who know nothing of foreign languages know nothing of their own." And while I cannot argue with either of these illustrious agents of literature, my liberal arts education, of which I am still a fresh recipient, has led me to adopt a less romantic and somewhat more cynical viewpoint on the subject.

Like many Americans, my days of high school French focused on both quickly memorizing vocabulary for my exams and quickly forgetting it afterwards.  Could I form a coherent sentence by the end of my senior year?  Would you count "Le cheval est sur l'avion," or, "The horse is on the plane"?  I thought not.  Of this fact I always remind myself whenever I become frustrated with my French high school students.  Whenever compelled to leave the more surly and taciturn aspects of their French upbringing at the door, these students can actually hold a conversation with me.  More importantly, they at least seem to understand what I am talking to them about..mostly.

Were it not for my training in French during my college days and my semester abroad in Paris I would not dare to stand in front of a room of French schoolchildren with such confidence.  Thanks to my undergraduate education I now have a confident command of French -- oral, written, you name it.  Now, when I stand up in front of a classroom I have the comfort of knowing what it takes to learn a new language, an appreciation for the deficiencies of the Western educational system, and the unique satisfaction that comes from carrying on a lengthy conversation in a non-native tongue.  I can walk into a restaurant and order a meal without experiencing a feeling of dread, I can ask for directions without stumbling over my "R"s, and I can carry on a decent conversation over the phone (anyone who has had to deal with the bureaucracy of a non-anglophone country can attest to the difficult of this last example).

However, it seems that I have arrived at a special point in my French language abilities; one that leaves me wondering about the usefulness of continuing to apply myself towards fluency. It's possible I am mistaken and that this is just the homesickness and apathy talking. But for one, this is my second time living abroad and the thrill of accomplishing everyday activities and moving through life with a new language has evaporated. Two, working abroad and studying abroad are two dramatically different things.  Studying abroad is specially constructed to give you the maximum exposure to the language and culture of your adopted country--living in a host family, taking courses in French, attending local cultural events, etc. Three, I do not plan to live here again, which will render much of my abilities moot.

Working abroad as an English teacher poses a paradox.  I initially joined this program as a means to live abroad and improve my French.  My job, however, requires me to be constantly thinking and speaking in English.  I do not live with a host family and when I return home from work, an introvert exhausted from playing the extrovert all day, surprise surprise I just want to lay down and watch my favorite American series and read some Fitzgerald.  Perhaps most importantly, I, unlike every other bilingual American woman I know, do not have a significant other of the French persuasion.  This seems to be the unifying factor for those language assistants that come here and actually do obtain fluency and settle down.

That being said, whether by choice or by circumstance, the language barrier, though often easily crossed in my case, continues to be one of the largest roadblocks to my happiness and comfort while living abroad.  I often find myself imagining hopping a ferry from Calais to Dover just to interact with the anglophones because a shared language is not just linguistic, it is a shared culture and history as well.  It is true that a language reveals how people think, feel, interact, and what they value.  But does learning a language after eighteen years of speaking English truly give you insight into a country's people and practices? Yes, it does. But it will never be my culture and my extended second stay in France has proved that my values, if not as an American then as an anglophone, do not always mesh with the values of francophones.

This arises linguistically everyday and one need only point to the Académie française to discover the root of my discontent.  The Académie française is an elite panel of linguistic judges that states as its mission, the "défense de la langue française." France prides itself on its language and why shouldn't she? The country holds a rich history of literature, art, and culture but that's just what it is: history. Upon entering France I immediately experienced the palpable feeling of a country nostalgic for older times and quite discontent with the present.  It seems that in the response to the rise of other developed nations as the arbiters of cultural hegemony France has only clung more strongly to an idea of French identity from its glory days.  The Académie française's specific mission is to determine which words it will allow to incorporate officially into the French language. Many anglicismes have been rejected.  For example one would not listen to a "walkman" in the 1980s but rather a, "baladeur." This has had the exclusionary effect of producing a language that is strictly introspective and, to an extent, elitest.  To exclude the incorporation of English or Arabic into the "official" French language comes with the assumption that these words are inferior or somewhat harmful to French culture.  The idea of preservation is strong in France.  UNESCO's headquarters are in Paris.  But preservation to the point of stagnation and exclusion should be scrutinized.

Even so there is much cultural exchange that exists and even thrives in France! Look to Paris' 18th arrondissement for one such place.  I add this statement as a reassurance that I am not a completely horrid pessimist.

After all, there is still much to be learned and simply experienced by living with a language barrier.  Parts of the world you take for granted light up like turning on a closet light you didn't know you had.  After holding the door for someone you may find yourself wondering what the best way to say "you're welcome" would be. These experiences teach you not only about the country you are living in, but they hold a mirror up to your own culture and language, allowing you the distance and clarity to ask questions about the American or English or Australian way of life you would have never questioned before.  So for better or for worse I am living in France and working in English. But it is also temporary and in seven months I will enter another frame of worldly interaction.  To what extent you adapt to your surroundings as an expat and to what extent you stick to the comforts of home, linguistic or otherwise, will always be a personal choice (and I will never judge anyone for clandestinely baking and eating an entire batch of chocolate chip cookies out of frustration with French bureaucratic red tape.  No I have not done that yet... but I haven't ruled it out).