Sunday's reflection on language - How do I grapple with stress-inducing situations when language simply doesn't happen?

If you like the topic of imperfect language, this is for you—a heartfelt conversation.

It’s Sunday night. I started writing on Friday, just a couple of minutes before the electricity went out. I kept writing on my phone. I had to visit the shopping mall many times to charge my phone battery…

I have the vaguest sense of what I used to do as a young boy struggling to learn a few words of English. I’m quite skeptical when it comes to miraculous methodologies or learning rituals—in this sense, I tend to be a rather down-to-earth person. I wouldn’t say I’m an ardent believer that languages are only learned through organic and natural conversational settings, as I’m inclined to tell people that it all depends on whether their learning is genuinely attuned to their true selves or aligned with what they firmly believe is the barest essential of the language learning process. To put it bluntly, it’s neither only natural nor fully represented by coursebook dialogues or tailor-made language courses

Truth be told, finding a teacher who is fully aligned with your beliefs and being offered a customized course is basically the very beginning of a long journey that, hands down, is highly unlikely to be a sea of wonders. At the outset, things seem to work seamlessly. A learner who is equipped to recognize a top-notch, experienced professional— I mean, a language expert who has mastered the rudiments of teaching—will probably be very successful on their journey, won’t they? Not exactly. I dare say this is where most learners get trapped, because it’s at this point they’re likely to feel they can entrust their entire learning process to the professional they’ve longed to find. Now that they’re working alongside this expert, they believe it’s just a matter of time before this professional guides them through the choppy waters of language learning.

In this line of thinking, acknowledging the sovereignty of language’s existence becomes crucial, and it must be recognized at any cost, even if it means facing heightened levels of anxiety and frustration. As far as I’m concerned, frustration and anxiety go hand in hand in the course of language acquisition—however, this is where your teacher or language tutor can assist learners with their valuable expertise. By providing learners with sharpened skills, they can better grapple with the many nuances of language, from linguistics to mental health

To the best of my knowledge, beyond all the precious repertoire and the vast array of noteworthy language a teacher may offer, bonding with a human being who helps students swim in a certain sensibility—encouraging them to take a break when they have too much on their plate, bringing verbal ease when they’re too anxious to air their views, or simply saying that it’s all fine if they make a mistake—is the real hidden gem. Luckily, I am surrounded by these people, teachers, and colleagues who know who they are, and I don’t even need to name them. I enjoy carving out time for genuine and focused study sessions, along with all those words of theirs that prompt me to write with hope and enthusiasm, pushing myself to believe that at the start of every new week, my students will encounter a fresh reflection on language that, much to my delight, stems from my colleagues’ insights.

Having said that, as a language enthusiast, my worst nightmare is losing the desire to move forward and witness the constant evolution of language. What draws me to language is this unremitting sensation that the English spoken one week will not be the same as it was a couple of weeks ago. This is the essence of language for most of the writers, singers, and intellectuals I have bonded with in my mind—Geoffrey Chaucer, Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, Xiaolu Guo, and Zadie Smith. I would also mention bands such as Sleaford Mods and Yard Act, as well as thinkers like Jacques Derrida, Roland Barthes, Maurice Blanchot, Franco Moretti, Paul Gilroy, Gilles Deleuze, and Homi K. Bhabha. On different scales, when diving into their works, you may notice that language manifests itself through a certain obsession with voice, language, and miscommunication

The core of their work, regardless of context, rests on the idea that there is something political in voicing our feelings and concerns, but the final interpretation of it may not be guaranteed. Why isn’t interpretation a common right, like a guarantee? If I said this is due to the fact that language is a fragile edifice, I'd be pointing to some conclusions of a course I have been raring to offer for ages… To be honest, language as a fragile edifice is, in fact, the quintessence of the cultural and political crises that speakers have deepened over the past few years. The English we speak today is no longer the language we learned in the 2000s—if you are a millennial like me.

As I mentioned, this is what writers and theorists have been constantly reminding us—we are all speakers trapped in an ancient tradition of perceiving existence, when we should be coping with the idea that things have drastically metamorphosed, and the same must be applied to our understanding of language itself. I wouldn’t endorse such a statement without having read a significant amount of literature in the field of language, grounded in scientific studies, of course. However, more importantly, I’ve seen a number of other great language teachers reflecting on the same thing, like one I saw on Instagram the other day. Much to my delight, the brilliant teacher Lucy shared a valuable and insightful post with her followers. Her ideas sparked a fruitful conversation with one of the subjects I’ve devoted much of my time to: What can we do when language falls apart?

She meditated on how we may feel slumped when words escape us, especially because it’s quite a nerve-racking situation, and people usually struggle to deal with stress-inducing moments like this. Although she’s a native speaker, she seemed much more concerned with the fact that this feeling, when words escape and we are left frustrated, is rather universal. I firmly believe that we have all grappled with this sort of problem, and it won’t cease to happen because it’s part of the imperfect architecture of the language we speak

It amazes me how this very simple statement works as a perfectly timed reminder that language, especially English, has never been an easy ride for anyone. I must confess I still don’t know how to better cope with this, particularly when it happens to me when I’m not feeling well. Countless are the times I wake up to the sound of birds but feel the least inspired to open my mouth and produce any sound.

As I write this piece on my phone, I’m still trying to solve a problem that’s been going on for about four days. My neighborhood has had no electricity at all. Things took an unexpected turn this past week, and my weekend got turned upside down. Life threw me a curveball. There was a heavy storm here in São Paulo, Brazil, where I’m currently based. I started writing this text on Friday, anywhere from 10-20 minutes before our electricity went out. Then we were informed that the power would be back by Monday. I know this isn’t the end of the world, but it’s still quite a distressing and sensitive situation, and it may have heightened my tension and stress. What can I do? Honestly, I have no clue, but I decided to pick up my phone and jot down some thoughts about language

It has affected the way I’m communicating, and it will impact how I produce language tomorrow because I’m a human being—and that’s all fine. Since I started attending language sessions with Sarah, my language tutor, I’ve had a shift in mindset concerning my language performance

As case in point, you may probably know that I spent a couple of days in London, UK. Prior to my tip, I was a bag of nerves as I spent the best part of a couple of days imagining and envisioning my trip. I did have to grapple with a smattering of problems during this trip, and it did alter the way I was speaking to people. Lots of things may contribute to a kind of language anxiety, and talking to important people for the very first time in a second language is very likely to be one of the key factors to trigger anxiety. 

Despite these setbacks, the combination of experience and my language expertise helped me along the way, which lessened the tension and softened my perspective. To be very candid with you, at no time did I struggle with communication—on the contrary, I felt I was truly open to all voices and sound shapes I encountered. It turned out to be a great surprise, indeed. I was much less focused on my mistakes and deeply immersed in the experience

I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of this trip, but being back in Brazil promptly pushed me back into reality, and it took time to get back into the swing of things. Language simply didn’t come out as I had planned. Quite frankly, [it’s just an assumption], but the experience was so overwhelming that I returned to Brazil feeling drained and disengaged. I tried my best to share everything I had experienced, but every word I attempted to use didn’t seem suitable to express my innermost feelings.

At times, I also made a couple of mistakes, such as saying "I got to teach" instead of "I got back to teaching," or "I had no idea of what this was" instead of "I had no idea what it was." One that caught my attention was saying "I'm based on" instead of "I'm based in." I nearly forgot how to pronounce "started"; I was so exhausted that I didn’t pronounce some consonants, and my voice cracked. I have no problem sharing these things with you. Actually, all I want is for you to acknowledge that this is part of using language and employing words as a human being. By no means does it reflect your language skills or abilities. Regardless of your language level—whether you hold a C2 certificate or have been teaching for more than 30 years—allow yourself to make language part of your circuit of sensations.

A Londoner I met in the UK spoke so beautifully and confidently, like, I was in awe listening to her English—not because it was perfect, but because she was caught off guard many times during our conversation. There were loads of hesitations, fillers, mispronunciations, rephrasing, nervousness, self-correction, and misuse of prepositions. I got a firsthand example of how to sound more natural and still delight your listener.

Both advanced words and mistakes are embedded in our language circuit. Moreover, I rarely see my "mistakes" as things that define who I am; rather, they need to be part of who I am, as language is imperfect—and so am I. This is where language meets imperfection… where our true selves meet imperfection—we are made of language. So, why are we so tough on ourselves when it comes to language performance? This is food for thought, and I am quite skeptical about answering right away

Were I to say something about it, I'd say that language imperfection is the motive behind my insatiable curiosity about human communication. What draws me to English is being able to write with writers and teachers I like, sharing in a very creative and poetic way in their lessons, posts, and books. The language we speak of and deal with every day—the language full of meaning and layered elements—also deserves some rest. This reminds us of the simplest and greatest pleasure of using meaningful language: it has meaning to the extent that it also conveys our tiredness, our vulnerabilities, and our pitfalls. This is the language I have mostly found in the books I read, the writers I have spoken to, and the diverse people I attentively listened to while I was in London. This is why we read, share, and bond with like-minded people. This is why language lays bare our most vulnerable selves, which should be the cynosure of communication.

I have just received an email saying that my electricity will be back by Monday at 4 a.m. There was a typo in this heartfelt message, and it made my eyes shine

Lucy - https://www.instagram.com/lucycoleenglish/

Sleaford Mods on Poverty and Language

Sarah - https://www.instagram.com/meaningful.english/