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!
