To use the same words is not a sufficient guarantee of
understanding; one must use the same words for the same genus of inward
experience; ultimately one must have one's experiences in common.
- Friedrich Nietzsche
How true that is. Words are not always enough. Expectations, social norms, and connotation must be learned. And though I will be excited to spend 10 days at home in my own culture, speaking my own language, I have enjoyed the ups and downs (definitely more the ups though) of learning how to translate an idea using not only words but also actions. Here are a few stories of my experiences...
(Initially) Insulted in translation
Last week I hung out with a Spaniard who did a Fulbright a couple of years ago in Washington D.C. After discussing an array of topics such as literature, paddle (a very popular sport here... similar to tennis/racquetball?), and my job, Juan described me as
inquieta. Not knowing what that meant, I turned to wordreference.com, my favorite language dictionary because it includes cultural and idiomatic uses of words. Well, my friends,
inqueita means: restless, lively, fidgety, worried, uneasy, and troubled. Awesome.
Juan could tell that these were
not positive adjectives, and quickly tried to remedy the situation by saying that
inquieta meant it was a person like me. Well, thank you, but I still don't know what impression you have of me after an hour of conversation. He continued to explain that
inquieta is someone who asks a lot of questions and interested in learning new things.
"Okay, but that's not what wordreference says...." I recounted.
"Well, who do you trust: wordreference or me?"
"I've known wordreference for about 8 years now and it's never let me down. So I'm going to say wordreference; sorry."
I let it go after that, but still curious by the time I got home, I looked at wordreference on my computer. Then I realized that with the small size of a phone screen, you couldn't see all of the definitions. So in the end,
inquieta does have another definition: curious, inquiring, on the go, enterprising, dynamic, ambitious.
Not so bad after all. (Yes, I apologized.)
Humor in translation
"The keys do not fit the lock. They cost 20 euros (
shakes head)... and we are in
crisis!"
It would not be an exaggeration in the least to say that I hear
la crisis
at least once every day. The Spaniards discuss the current status of
the country using a word that, in English, is rarely used seriously. I
think I've only used the word "crisis" when talking about a mid-life
crisis or recounting a dramatic series of events for attention.
Perhaps
I'm not being respectful enough of the difficult position that Spain is
currently in, but when my friend's roommate tells her, "¡Tienes que
reciclar porque estamos en crisis!" (We have to recycle because we are
in crisis!), you can't help but chuckle at the direct translation.
Lost in translation
Some days my Spanish fails me. Such an instance occurred last week, when I worked with a group of 10 students alone. Now, most of my students have an impressively high level of English. But not all of my teenage students are motivated to practice a foreign language; some barely sneak by with their classes in Spanish. So when I was left alone with the ten students with the lowest level of English (and coinciding lowest level of motivation), things did not go well.
Unfortunately, when grouped by level (as I designed, hoping that since they were the only ones there it would force them to speak), the interactions are less than ideal. Mix a friend group of "cool" boys with a few girls who doubt their abilities so much that they revert to saying even the most simple phrases in Spanish and a splash of a student who lacks the ability to have normal social interactions and has turned mean as a result of all of the teasing she has experienced. Recipe for fun? Negative.
Anyway, while I was trying to lead a discussion about the use of social media in the classroom, I noticed some of the students whispering and smirking. I threw out my teacher look and continued on, not drawing attention to the disruptions. But as the whispering turned more into a general discussion, I realized that a few of the students were deliberately making fun of another student right in front of my face. Yet the whole thing went completely over my head because in my attempt to continue with the lesson, I ignored what the students were saying. However, I didn't unconsciously pick up on what the students said as I would have in English. Instead I was left staring at the students, at a loss for what had just been said but aware from the looks on a few students' faces that someone had taken it farther than they should have in front of a teacher.
Not that I could do anything. Because I had
no idea what had just been said.
Mistaken in translation
Feeling a little anxious after the event mentioned above, I took the time to report the event in detail to the teacher whose class I was in, another teacher who works closely with the particular group of students, and my coordinator. Desiring to avoid liability for what seemed like a serious bullying issue, I left no one out.
Wrong move, Amber. There are not liability issues in Spain like there are in the states. Instead I ended up offending the teacher whose class I was in because I did not address him individually first. Although I did what I consider to be "right," the cultural norms did not align. After three different conversations on the issue, I now know the procedure for dealing with classroom issues at my school is much simpler than what I was taught.
Saved in translation
On Monday, my Spanish
didn't fail me. Handy, because I was literally trapped
in a bathroom stall in a park. It wasn't even locked, the wood was just so
tight that even though I was thrusting my body against it, it wouldn't
budge. I've never been so happy to say a phrase in Spanish as I was to
say "
la puerta no abre" (the door doesn't open) as the only other woman in the bathroom was walking out the door.
Offended in translation
Some days (for some, most days), we get to work and are ready to just get to work. That is exactly my goal when I arrive early to school on Thursday mornings. I spend Wednesday night preparing all of the PDFs to print, reminding myself of all the copies I need to make, and setting an alarm clock that will allow me to get all of the work done before the coffee break so that I can chat with the other assistants and later leave immediately (but fully prepared) after my last class of the week.
So, Thursday mornings, my biggest hurdle is finding a computer that is open, hooked up to a printer (which must then have toner and paper), and connected to the internet. (This is way more difficult than some of you may imagine.) Once this goal is accomplished, it's smooth sailing. After a few pointers from some other teachers, I realized that my highest probability of success lies in going to the teachers' room in the Bachillerato building.
I can normally tell before I even walk into the room if the computer is free because although the door is a cloudy glass, it's transparent enough that I can make out a figure in the chair. If I don't see anyone at the computer, I make a beeline for it before any of the teachers sitting at the table decide that it is the opportune moment to check their e-mail or re-format an exam.
But a few weeks ago, as I was happily printing off my lesson plans and worksheets, I overheard the teachers at the table talking (in Spanish) about an assistant. Unwilling to get involved, I ignored the conversation. However, shortly after, the printer ran out of paper and I had to interrupt them to find out where I could get another ream. (By the way, I couldn't get an entire ream of paper for the printer at once... estamos en crisis.) One of the teachers at the table (who had attended my after school English class for teachers for a few weeks at the beginning of the year) offered to help me and lead me out of the room.
Once we entered the stairwell, said professor asked me "Did you hear what she was saying in there about you?" About
me? I never even began to imagine that they were talking about me when I was right there. Turns out, I had offended the one teacher by not greeting them when I walked in the door. Focused on my checklist, I overlooked the social greetings that are critical to good manners. Let's just say that I make a more conscious effort nowadays to make sure that I say "Buenos días" loud and proud when I walk in a room, whether I think someone's listening or not.
Touched in translation
Thank you, Amber, for your nice words!!!!! I am learning a lot from you,
I like to grow, to get richness, to learn... Above all I enjoy being
the witness of your energy and pleasure when you are teaching, it is
contagious. So we both are blessed because we have still several months
to walk along together this path...
My best (honestly),
Fabiola
It
doesn't take perfect grammar to make someone feel on top of the world. I
am blessed beyond belief with the placement I received this year.
Uncomfortable in translation
My dedicated followers may remember the difficulty I have had becoming accustomed to seeing poverty on a daily basis. Although I had come up with a solution that I thought satisfied my duties as a fellow human being and a Christian, I couldn't shake the thought that I walk by the same three women begging on a daily basis. I think about them as I set out from my apartment; I think about them as I greet them good morning; I think about them almost every time I see someone sitting on the sidewalk with an out-stretched hand. Yet I struggled for a way to share that with them.
After a few conversations with a friend from house church, I decided that there was not a huge sense of dependency that would be developed from offering them a little bit of food once a week. Some juice, bread and tuna do not make a large dent in my grocery bill, but it could feed a few people. And more importantly, they would know someone is thinking about them.
My problem now is that one of the women has begun to approach me on a daily basis, speaking with a thick accent and obviously asking for money for something. Unwilling to give her cash and unable to truly understand her, I find myself reduced once again to a simple "Buenos días", a nod, and a smile. I'm uncomfortable, but I'm trying to follow through with my convictions and I'm praying that God will use my meager offering as communication enough.
Inspired in translation
Okay, I'll admit I was wrong about 12 year olds. They can be pretty great.
When I was student teaching they were awkward, fidgety, and unmotivated. Then again, how excited can you really be about learning reflexive pronouns and how to spell 273 in Spanish?
Here, however, my 1°ESO students don't cease to impress me. They often understand my jokes better than 3°ESO or 1 Bachillerato. They even got this week's somewhat challenging Christmas joke: Why does Santa have 3 gardens? So he can hoe, hoe, hoe! Who knew 12 year olds know the word for a gardening tool in their second language? One student last week even impressed me with a joke of his own: Why does an elephant use his trunk as a bookmark? So he always
nose where he is! Dang impressive!
Anyway, one of the last assignments we did in our poetry unit was sensory poetry. I couldn't believe the sensitivity and imagination these kids these kids were able to express in a language that is not their native tongue. Perhaps you will be as impressed as I was...
*Poems published with students' permission
Optimism
Love
Sadness
Love feels like hugging a puppy? Sadness smells like cold, wet fish? Who comes up with this? I questioned the one student about his statement, "Optimism smells like a hen house", only to be blown away by his response about how he loves the smell of his grandfather's hen house and he thinks there are a lot of possibilities with all of the eggs inside. Speechless.
So there you have it: the good and the bad. There's definitely a learning curve, but I am an eager student. I look forward to a greater mastery of communication as time continues, though I am certainly not rushing it (time, that is)!
Especially not the upcoming 10 days that I will spend with the people that I love the most! I will see many of you
soooooooooooo soon!
Much love and Merry Christmas!
Amber
“The word 'translation' comes, etymologically, from the Latin for
'bearing across'. Having been borne across the world, we are translated
men. It is normally supposed that something always gets lost in
translation; I cling, obstinately to the notion that something can also
be gained.”
- Salman Rushdie,
Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991
