I recently came across an often advised suggestion* in Routledge’s Essential Portuguese Grammar. “Avoid at all costs thinking in your mother tongue and then translating into Portuguese”. Avoid at all costs is quite a strong suggestion. Wow, it must be really bad for me to think in English then go into Portuguese!
Except that, well, it just isn’t, is it? I see very few drawbacks to thinking in your native language and then going into another. Only if you are the kind of absolute moron (aka ‘linguistically challenged individual’) who would apply English syntax and vocabulary directly to the foreign language should be given this kind of advice (though better advice would be not to learn a foreign language in the first place in this case). However, most people, even language learners with no experience (we all were once upon a time) do not fall into the category of this kind of stupidity. Most people do not find this kind of condescending advice helpful. Language learning is a very long journey with no end destination. With time, you develop a feeling for the language, and can begin to say things more and more automatically. Your instincts for the language improve and you know what ‘sounds right’.
Essential Portuguese Grammar believes the advice of not thinking in your native language to be ‘particularly important if you are a beginner’. What?! I can, begrudgingly, see the point in trying to avoid your native language once you are at say, C1 level. But A1? What are they talking about? If I could already think in Greek, I wouldn’t need to learn Greek.Capeesh? So why prevent me from thinking in English?
I find this suggestion at best ill-advised, at worst misleading, discouraging, and absolutely fucking pointless. Everyone finds their own way of learning a language. Certainly, there are tried and tested methods, but giving a naïve, innocent language learner the impression they will fail if they follow a way which seems natural to them and helps them progress, but which deviates from the path of absurdity often preached in language books, should surely not be the goal of helping people to learn a foreign language?
It is total nonsense. Thinking, generally, isn’t an active choice. Even when you’re not thinking about anything in particular, you are generally thinking. Even if you think about it simply, try thinking now about absolutely nothing. Cleeeear your mind. It’s quite hard. Do you know what’s harder? Thinking about nothing whilst speaking to someone, and hoping that foreign words tumble out of your mouth with some kind of vague logical coherence and in syntactically correct manner. Because I mean, it would just be terrible if you actually thought in English for a couple of seconds about the grammar and vocabulary you’ve assimilated to be able to produce an accurate sentence in the target language.
Additionally, I don’t see what is soooo awful about sounding a bit odd in a foreign language. Most people don’t require or even want to be perfect; they just want to make friends, help business meetings run a bit more smoothly, or just be able to communicate on holiday. Language is, after all, and above all, about communication.
This blog entry, admittedly, comes from a recent event in a French class, when I encountered the expression prendre les rènes. It’s not difficult to make a leap from that to ‘to take the reins’. Moreover, it is pretty impossible not to. I was however scolded and told I should think of synonyms for it in French instead. Again, why? (Don’t worry though- I managed to explain (slowly, so he would understand) to him and his stupid jumper that that is the worst advice you could possibly give someone who has to produce translations and who interprets).
I wonder what Routledge’s authors would think of thinking in a language which isn’t your native language, but similar to the one you are learning? For example, learning Polish after experience of Russian, one could think, how would a Russian say that? What aspect would they use? And, voilà! We have the correct Polish verb. You’d probably be euthanised.
So, dear people, I implore you...GO NATIVE!
*I use the word ‘suggestion’ with great reluctance. The zeal with which these ‘experts’ advance the idea that thinking in English when speaking a foreign language is practically a crime on a par with paedophilia would suggest to the more inexperienced language learner that this is an absolute must, and behaving in any other fashion will result in complete lack of linguistic success.
Thursday 9 February 2012
Thursday 15 December 2011
How many languages do you speak?
Dear.Lord.
How does any self-respecting linguist really answer this question? Ideally, everyone would be familiar with the European Framework for measuring language ability. Then we could say well I have Swedish B1, Spanish B2, German C1 and Russian C2 (megalolz- no one has Russian C2) and our interlocutor would nod knowledgably and we would all be content, having conveyed the information accurately and concisely.
Instead, we need to assess the linguistic competence of the inquisitor (which often is pure guesswork), any possibly linguistic background (school or parental circumstance) and ultimately, how quickly they will become bored of our explanations.
We need to also establish if the person we’re speaking to is an idiot or not. For example, someone who achieved a 3 at Standard Grade French or a C at GSCE Spanish years ago who considers themselves competent French/Spanish speakers as they are vaguely capable of ordering una cerveza, por favor will clearly believe any nonsense you tell them, so might as well count up all those languages you have at A1 and add them to your list: “Yes, cretin, I do speak 11 languages”. Then bask in their awe.
The challenge indeed lies in speaking to non-idiots and ‘bilinguals’ (I put this in inverted commas as most bilinguals are not, in fact, bilingual- though don’t try to tell them that, they won’t appreciate it). It’s quite hard to toe the line between being explanatory yet not boring and/or patronising. “Well…it’s quite hard to explain to you as you are not a linguist…but in your eyes I probably speak 5”, doesn’t really go down well as an ice-breaker. If you are a qualified translator/interpreter, I suppose there is the luxury of saying “I work with x number of languages”, thus conveying all the information necessary for the probably not very interested interlocutor whilst skirting around the issue of A1-C2, and A,B and C languages. Until then though, what is one to do?
“Well, I speak French to a (what you probably consider) fluent level and then I am ‘very good’ at Swahili, Chinese and Korean, ‘quite good’ at Polish and ‘can get by’ in Italian.” I don’t know many people who would happily describe their language capabilities in those terms. What if you are completely proficient in a foreign language after having spent years in the country? I fear it is not acceptable to say “I speak French, Portuguese and Spanish, but you know what? I’m a fucking legend when it comes to Serbian!”
There is also the option of I speak X, Y and Z and work with them, and I also speak Q, R and S but not to a level which I can interpret from them. However, there is still the issue that most people probably won’t understand that just because you cannot interpret with a language doesn’t mean that you don’t speak it to an extremely high level.
Sigh.
Do I have any solutions?
“It’s complicated; around 5, and a couple more. Ask no further questions”.
How does any self-respecting linguist really answer this question? Ideally, everyone would be familiar with the European Framework for measuring language ability. Then we could say well I have Swedish B1, Spanish B2, German C1 and Russian C2 (megalolz- no one has Russian C2) and our interlocutor would nod knowledgably and we would all be content, having conveyed the information accurately and concisely.
Instead, we need to assess the linguistic competence of the inquisitor (which often is pure guesswork), any possibly linguistic background (school or parental circumstance) and ultimately, how quickly they will become bored of our explanations.
We need to also establish if the person we’re speaking to is an idiot or not. For example, someone who achieved a 3 at Standard Grade French or a C at GSCE Spanish years ago who considers themselves competent French/Spanish speakers as they are vaguely capable of ordering una cerveza, por favor will clearly believe any nonsense you tell them, so might as well count up all those languages you have at A1 and add them to your list: “Yes, cretin, I do speak 11 languages”. Then bask in their awe.
The challenge indeed lies in speaking to non-idiots and ‘bilinguals’ (I put this in inverted commas as most bilinguals are not, in fact, bilingual- though don’t try to tell them that, they won’t appreciate it). It’s quite hard to toe the line between being explanatory yet not boring and/or patronising. “Well…it’s quite hard to explain to you as you are not a linguist…but in your eyes I probably speak 5”, doesn’t really go down well as an ice-breaker. If you are a qualified translator/interpreter, I suppose there is the luxury of saying “I work with x number of languages”, thus conveying all the information necessary for the probably not very interested interlocutor whilst skirting around the issue of A1-C2, and A,B and C languages. Until then though, what is one to do?
“Well, I speak French to a (what you probably consider) fluent level and then I am ‘very good’ at Swahili, Chinese and Korean, ‘quite good’ at Polish and ‘can get by’ in Italian.” I don’t know many people who would happily describe their language capabilities in those terms. What if you are completely proficient in a foreign language after having spent years in the country? I fear it is not acceptable to say “I speak French, Portuguese and Spanish, but you know what? I’m a fucking legend when it comes to Serbian!”
There is also the option of I speak X, Y and Z and work with them, and I also speak Q, R and S but not to a level which I can interpret from them. However, there is still the issue that most people probably won’t understand that just because you cannot interpret with a language doesn’t mean that you don’t speak it to an extremely high level.
Sigh.
Do I have any solutions?
“It’s complicated; around 5, and a couple more. Ask no further questions”.
Wednesday 26 October 2011
Sadistically Slavic
A few years ago, I embarked on a long, long path. The path of mastering a Slavic language. Oh, how naïve. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and still probably do not know the full extent of its cruelty.
Us linguists know that grammar is sexy. Slavic languages are certainly grammar-laden. And that is the problem. They are too sexy. Verbal aspects, complex case systems, umpteen declinations with tens of exceptions for every rule, prefixed verbs, voicing and unvoicing your consonants... It's a grammar orgasm that bewitches you until you are fully under its control.
When you go Slavic, you never go back.
As quickly as I get bored of men, I get bored of Romance languages, bored of Germanic languages. Yes, they certainly provide their challenges, and couldn't be described purely as 'easy' (with the exception of Italian, which can be learned in about 7 hours), but they do not seem as alluring, as magical, as mystical, as a Slavic language. Mastering subjunctives just doesn’t give you butterflies.
A Slavic language will never succumb to you. It will never tell you "I appreciate how hard you try to make us work"; rather "You cannot even decline me, you are pathetic. You don't even know me." A Slavic language will never love you back. Despite this knowledge, I still persist, in the naïve hope that, one day, it will realise how devoted I am to it and then my love will no longer be so unrequited.
Too much time has been spent, too much effort, too much love and dedication to the cause to ever go back. A Slavic language is the strong, silent, mysterious man in the corner that somehow manages to resist your charms, no matter what tack you take. With a Slavic language, you will never be in control. Maybe that is the attraction? It completely dominates your brain. It is addictive.
Learning a Slavic language is an act of pure sadism. You know it will reject you, frustrate you, time and time again, but you can't help going back. You want to understand how it works, to master every detail of declination and to know it inside out. The problem being however, that it will never let you know it inside out. It will never let you inside its mind. You can, of course, with years of study, begin to have a greater understanding of how it thinks. But your understanding will never be complete, or anywhere near it.
Let us consider aspectual pairs. Even when we get our heads around the idea of aspects, we then must face that every aspectual pair (or sometimes aspectual trio) must be learned individually. Every single verb I wish to translate from English or indeed any other non Slavic language must be individually studied in context to select the correct aspect, unless you wish to sound like an utter pleb in the target Slavic language.
Why do I do it? Why does anyone do it? (Maybe I am just a sadist?) The reasons why someone would choose to learn a Slavic language are manifold: I presume part arrogance (many have failed; I will succeed), part stubbornness (I will, I will, I will manage this) and partly just being a big old fool in love. When you start, it is captivating. Mastering any language is never easy. But at least with Romance and Germanic languages, level C2 is in sight. It is plausible that level C2 can be attained. Can C2 be attained in a Slavic language?
If all goes well, I’ll be C2 Russian in about 43 years.
Despite such adversary, why am I still here, by Russian’s side? Sadly, I am its captive, and I am suffering from Stockholm syndrome.
Us linguists know that grammar is sexy. Slavic languages are certainly grammar-laden. And that is the problem. They are too sexy. Verbal aspects, complex case systems, umpteen declinations with tens of exceptions for every rule, prefixed verbs, voicing and unvoicing your consonants... It's a grammar orgasm that bewitches you until you are fully under its control.
When you go Slavic, you never go back.
As quickly as I get bored of men, I get bored of Romance languages, bored of Germanic languages. Yes, they certainly provide their challenges, and couldn't be described purely as 'easy' (with the exception of Italian, which can be learned in about 7 hours), but they do not seem as alluring, as magical, as mystical, as a Slavic language. Mastering subjunctives just doesn’t give you butterflies.
A Slavic language will never succumb to you. It will never tell you "I appreciate how hard you try to make us work"; rather "You cannot even decline me, you are pathetic. You don't even know me." A Slavic language will never love you back. Despite this knowledge, I still persist, in the naïve hope that, one day, it will realise how devoted I am to it and then my love will no longer be so unrequited.
Too much time has been spent, too much effort, too much love and dedication to the cause to ever go back. A Slavic language is the strong, silent, mysterious man in the corner that somehow manages to resist your charms, no matter what tack you take. With a Slavic language, you will never be in control. Maybe that is the attraction? It completely dominates your brain. It is addictive.
Learning a Slavic language is an act of pure sadism. You know it will reject you, frustrate you, time and time again, but you can't help going back. You want to understand how it works, to master every detail of declination and to know it inside out. The problem being however, that it will never let you know it inside out. It will never let you inside its mind. You can, of course, with years of study, begin to have a greater understanding of how it thinks. But your understanding will never be complete, or anywhere near it.
Let us consider aspectual pairs. Even when we get our heads around the idea of aspects, we then must face that every aspectual pair (or sometimes aspectual trio) must be learned individually. Every single verb I wish to translate from English or indeed any other non Slavic language must be individually studied in context to select the correct aspect, unless you wish to sound like an utter pleb in the target Slavic language.
Why do I do it? Why does anyone do it? (Maybe I am just a sadist?) The reasons why someone would choose to learn a Slavic language are manifold: I presume part arrogance (many have failed; I will succeed), part stubbornness (I will, I will, I will manage this) and partly just being a big old fool in love. When you start, it is captivating. Mastering any language is never easy. But at least with Romance and Germanic languages, level C2 is in sight. It is plausible that level C2 can be attained. Can C2 be attained in a Slavic language?
If all goes well, I’ll be C2 Russian in about 43 years.
Despite such adversary, why am I still here, by Russian’s side? Sadly, I am its captive, and I am suffering from Stockholm syndrome.
Saturday 4 September 2010
Grammar IS sexy
This, my dear children, must be a scientific fact.
After all, we are genetically programmed to go for those who can provide for us are we not? And who is more likely to get a good job and provide- an eloquent gentleman or woman, or someone with lines like "Yeah but like...grammaaaaa ain't important though, innit? Like, if you can be understood 'n' all, like what's the big deal...innit. Ah ain't gonna talk no posh talk like". ?
If those past few sentences have made you projectile vomit, or at least retch slightly, this is the blog for you.
After all, we are genetically programmed to go for those who can provide for us are we not? And who is more likely to get a good job and provide- an eloquent gentleman or woman, or someone with lines like "Yeah but like...grammaaaaa ain't important though, innit? Like, if you can be understood 'n' all, like what's the big deal...innit. Ah ain't gonna talk no posh talk like". ?
If those past few sentences have made you projectile vomit, or at least retch slightly, this is the blog for you.
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