Trailer doors and Spanish as a Second Language

Today was a good day. Didn't start so well, however. My wife and I had a "discussion" in the street before I left this morning...peeling out on my bike, leaving all that responsibility behind, like a rolling stone, to freedom on the Capitol Crescent. Okay, not really. But we did "talk." Unfortunately for the rest of the neighborhood, it was very civil and quiet. An obverser might have noticed very little of interest. In retrospect, this is disappointing, there's something refreshing and reassuring about other people screaming in the street, and considering our Mississippi/Georgia roots, we could have relied on some powerful role models. In the mind of a Southerner like myself, happily suffering from bemusement, the street scene of public argument if followed by an agressive thump of a trailer door slammed shut, is savored like no other.

Today I had to confront my Spanish. I have a new pro bono client that speaks no English. Communicating with her is not that intimidating, commuicating with her in front of other Spanish/English speakers is a different matter. I've spent over two years living in Latin America or Spain over the last decade and feel comfortable saying that I'm a fluent Spanish speaker. What is uncomfortable, however, is demonstrating the fluency to others fluent in both languages. Because while it is true that I can understand and communicate my ideas, "fluid" is not an adjective that I would use to describe the process if another were available. And when forced to speak the language, to someone who doesn't speak English, you are fluent indeed. But when "practicing" your language skills with another English speaker, you stumble, mumble, and eventually just revert to English.

I've noticed that non-native, but technically fluent, speakers use various strategies to cope with their truncated speach. I've employed four, with varying degrees of success. First, act broody and pensive; it's not that you can't speak the language well, you just choose to be difficult to understand, cryptic. After all, you're just annoyed with language in general. Second, be completely unemotional about your language skills, and register no response when people correct you or you say something totally stupid. Third, speak your little heart out, throw caution to the wind and accept, with gusto, your role as clown. Fourth, just accept that you have an accent (to put it mildly) and get on with it.

Today's rule: attempt to stop apologizing for any lack of complete mastery of a foreign language.








Today's rules: before you commit to traveling to a client, look up their address on a map.