Communication pt. 1

Being in a country with a new language has taught me way more than I ever expected.  I thought I was just going to learn Spanish, but I now look at communication in a whole new way.  When I first arrived, I didn’t know much Spanish but I was able to get along in the house talking to Betzy.  However, my conversation skills were minimal with anyone (to say the least) and the boys weren’t really interested in repeating or explaining what they said.  Now, six weeks later, I am much more proficient (though far from fluent) and speaking Spanish at home is easier.  I can participate in dinner conversation and talk to the boys—for the record though, I think my ability to speak is only partly why they didn’t want to engage in real banter; I think they also needed a couple weeks just to get to know me and the other girls.

Language is such a fascinating element of humanity.  We are all human and we are all similar in one way or another, but we use different languages to communicate.  Languages that often aren’t like one another at all, and can’t be understood by other cultures.  Languages with different definitions, connotations, idiomatic phrases, and words that don’t even exist outside the culture because whatever they are describing is unique.  Sometimes we can forget that other languages exist as the primary form of communication for millions of people simply because we’re just accustomed to our own.

I grew up in a pretty multicultural city, so I was often around other languages being spoken.  I love the diversity but I’ve never really thought that much about what it’s like to live in a place with a new language and try to figure out how to communicate—until now.  This is not my first time in a country that doesn’t speak English, but it’s the first time that I’ve really pondered a new language and observed the cultural differences of communication, and experienced how the unfamiliarity or lack of fluency can alter someone’s perceived personality.

I’ve always enjoyed watching the TV show ER, mainly because I learned about all kinds of medical stuff (I’m that nerd who watches the show with medical dictionary in hand and writes down diseases and procedures to read about on Wikipedia after the fact).  But one particular episode recently came back to mind.  The emergency department hired a cleaning lady who was an immigrant from Russia or something, and because she had some hard-to-pronounce name (or maybe just one that no one cared to remember), she was dubbed Bob.  Bob was always reserved and didn’t talk much.  She stayed out the way and did her job, and didn’t protest her new moniker.  Then one day a patient coded, and the nurses were scrambling around trying to find a doctor, and Bob was just a fly on the wall in the exam room—until she jumped in.  She dropped her cleaning supplies and performed some exciting and dramatic procedure like a thoracotomy or open heart massage (or maybe both) and saved the patient’s life.  Turns out Bob was a thoracic surgeon in her native country—and thus probably very smart and confident, but she wasn’t able to get licensed in the States so she landed a job cleaning floors in the ER.

When I first saw that episode I thought it was kind of dumb because that kind of situation would probably never happen in real life.  It probably wouldn’t, but I do understand a little bit how Bob felt (had she been a real person…haha).  I started working at a clinic this past week, which has been good, but the language barrier was frustrating at times.  I’m normally comfortable in a hospital or clinic, working with or observing patients and medical staff.  But on my first day there, my lack of Spanish felt glaringly obvious.  My job is to grab a chart, call up the patient (mostly kids), and take their height, weight, temperature, and measure their head circumference, and when the doctor is ready take them to the exam room.  Sounds simple enough, but when you don’t know how to say things like “Back up,” “Turn around,” “Right this way,” and “The doctor will be with you shortly,” things become slightly more challenging.  Not to mention the fact that kids speaking Spanish are often hard to understand as it is.  I was also having trouble even making conversation with the receptionist when there was dead time, and I definitely did not come across as the talkative, inquisitive person I normally am.

Since that first day, things have gotten much better and though I still don’t ask a zillion questions I know how to say the important things, and I’m more comfortable interacting with the patients and their parents.  It’s still stretching me out of my comfort zone which is really good, and God is using the experience to humble me which is also good.  I was starting to feel like “Hey, yeah, I can speak Spanish!  I’m so cool!” and then I started at the clinic.  So much for that prideful notion.

I’m not really sure how to conclude this post because I feel like it would be weird to end with that last sentence.  This post seems to be obscenely long (I’m writing it on Word and it’ll probably be even more of a tome when I get it on the internet) but I still have more to say about communication so I will make this a two part post and bid you all adieu—until next time!