I grew up in a bilingual, bicultural home. My mother is American and my father is Colombian. I lived in Colombia, went to an American school, attended a Colombian church and by all accounts, consistently lived in the blurry “third culture” realm.
Prior to my university years, I had no concept of language-learning. Yes, I was that person, the one reaping the benefits of bilingualism as if they were free and easy to acquire. I could rattle away in one language and switch to the other in the next breath. Nevertheless, I was never content with just two languages; I loved languages and was convinced that one day I would actually put in the hard work to learn several more.
And so, freshman year of university, I registered for my first of six semesters studying Modern Standard Arabic (MSA). I can honestly say that I was smitten from Day 1. I loved the language and all the cultural lessons. My professor was fabulous, making 18-22 year olds stand up, sing alphabet songs, play roles in silly skits and compete in childish games. Who can argue? It worked!
The first six weeks were spent learning the alphabet so that we could read and write in Arabic script. And then began the hard work: the simple sentences that never felt quite simple. Yes, people often asked me if Arabic was hard because of the different script. I’d laugh because that was the easiest part to learn. However, by the end of the semester, I was convinced that I would one day become proficient; it was destiny. I loved the language; I seemed to do well in it, so how could I not achieve proficiency?
I must admit that this belief continued into my second, third, and fourth semesters. I could see myself improving, and my desire to one day travel to the Middle East only grew. And I guess I should disclose all: I even had sporadic day dreams of me sparking up conversations with people in Arabic, surprising them that yes, this white, green-eyed girl, could speak Arabic well. I accumulated more vocabulary and was able to construct more complex sentences. Hey, I could even use the past tense when I spoke!
But my fifth semester hit, and I took my first class at the advanced level. The grammar was daunting, and I learned more about the differences between MSA and the various Arabic dialects. The idea of proficiency became less realistic in my mind. I came across a Buzz Feed article humorously depicting the frustrations that Arabic students can relate to. I could relate to it all too well. I was frustrated and disappointed by how little progress I felt I had made. I was nervous about my upcoming semester abroad in Morocco because I didn’t think I knew enough Arabic to survive four whole months. I even considered taking French that last semester, convinced that one semester of French would help me more than my five of Arabic. However, even though I was nervous, I still held on to the expectation of proficiency once “I lived in the culture and learned through immersion.” I’m sure we’ve all said those words at some point or another.
My sixth semester was spent in Rabat, Morocco. Within two weeks, my dear friends, Dreams and Expectations, were kicked out by Reality Check. She came knocking swiftly and showed me that despite what Dreams and Expectations had told me, I would not be fluent in Arabic upon my departure just four months later. Reality Check assured me that I would learn and grow and love it, but that I just had to… adjust my expectations.
And so I did. I reconsidered and realized that I didn’t need to achieve fluency to communicate, and I could love the culture and flourish in the language-learning process without getting discouraged by all that I didn’t know. I volunteered at a local organization for children, taught games and learned the words for listen and stop pretty quickly. I traveled and became confident asking for directions and learned to be okay with getting lost occasionally. I spoke to my host family and had patience with myself when miscommunications happened. I laughed at myself, and my desire to connect deepened even further.
Though I left Morocco with a lower level of Arabic than I had envisioned myself having three years prior, I know my time was not wasted. I realized that sometimes you learn more about yourself when studying a language than the language itself! I was able to kick back, have fun and not constantly get caught up in my apparent progress (or lack thereof). So, my friends, kick your shoes off, roll up your pants, dive in and have fun… that is what you’ll carry with you years later.