Miss Meghan, Spanish Teacher

Today the Spanish teacher in my classroom was at an off-campus workshop so Miss Meghan filled in for español. Usually, when I lead Spanish class, I do it in English and only say Spanish words when absolutely necessary. This is mostly because I know that I make mistakes in Spanish and I know that I have an accent, which somehow makes me feel like less of an authority figure. And when I am standing in front of 23 kids, I need to emit authority.

I have no idea what happened today, but when it was time for Spanish class, Spanish came rolling off my tongue. So I went with it. I even scolded the children for their notoriously bad behavior in Spanish class compared to their English class. Which is unacceptable, I told them, because it's your native language.

The most difficult part of the class was when I had to give a Spanish spelling test. This test isn't just words, but complete sentences. To top it off, my students are learning the letter j, which is a tricky sound for an English speaker. And of course, nearly half of the words had a j. For example:

Julieta tiene un conejo. (Julia has a rabbit.)

La abeja me pico el ojo. (The bee stung my eye.)

This morning, I practiced with a Peruvian friend so she could correct my pronunciation. At the end of our practice session,  she said it sounded great (major confidence boost!).

I glanced at the tests and they all seemed to do fairly well, thankfully the mistakes they made didn't appear to come from my accent.

Hopefully, this Spanish roll will continue at my hair appointment this evening. I want to change my cut so I can no longer walk in a say, "The same!" I've been brushing up on my haircut vocabulary and I trust my stylist enough to know that we will somehow meet in the middle.

Success!

I can now add something to my list of Lima firsts. Right after taking a Lima bus, eating cow hearts, arguing with taxi drivers and teaching children, I have looked for an apartment. Growing up, I lived at home and then in dorms, when I moved off campus, my mom found the apartment for me because I was studying abroad that semester. For my first apartment in Lima, Alvaro and his mom found it before my arrival. This was my first real estate endeavor. Needless to say, it was a lot harder than I expected.

I spent the majority of last week trying to find a balance between price, interior and location. Ideally, I want completely redone bathrooms, new kitchen,  modern interior,  beautiful building and the picture perfect location. Around Wednesday I had a reality check: My teacher budget won´t pay for all of those things. Then I began to make compromises and in this process discovered the one thing I was unwililng to compromise on: location.

I had singled out an apartment and it was the main contender. The location couldn´t be better, the price is right, the decorations are pretty good but the kitchen and bathroom are older. Here was my compromise. I am able to admit that I am horrificly indecisive (somewhere in Nashville my mom is reading this and smiling) and it took the hard truth to accept that this was the apartment, old kitchen included.

But I did it! I signed a preliminary document last week and will get to see the apartment fully ready to go this weekend. Then begins the process of thoroughly removing every shedded Emmaline hair from my current apartment so the owner doesn´t realize there was an expat cat living there for a year. I think she´s worth all the cleaning trouble, but I am afraid my landlady won´t agree.

And that´s that. As I am approaching the one year anniversary of my big leap to Peru, I can add finding an apartment in Spanish to my list of accomplishments.

Vocabulary Pockets

Now that I have been living in Peru for almost one full year, I can say from personal experience that living somewhere is the best way to learn a language. It's not simply because you are surrounded by the sounds and forced to speak, but because you learn practical vocabulary you most likely wouldn't learn in a classroom.

Since I began teaching, I have learned an array of classroom vocabulary that I would never have learned if I wasn't surrounded by six year olds all day.

"Miss, can you sharpen my pencil?"
"Well, what happened is that he pushed me and threw a toy at me."
"Miss, my stomach hurts. My head hurts. My throat hurts. My leg is bleeding. My arm itches."

I have been going to yoga classes for several months and finally feel like I have mastered all of the vocabulary. Now I can be in class and focus on yoga without focusing so much on understanding the teacher. Through yoga I learned less obvious body parts: hips, jaw, shoulders, elbow, wrists. Things I learned years ago in school but had no practical use for, so I forgot them. I have also learned movements such as: bend and flex.

The most recent vocabulary circle I am exploring is anything related to renting an apartment. As I begin to search for a new place I am learning the following words: hardwood floors, carpeted floors, remodeled, balcony, guarantees and location.

Apartment hunting is hard enough, now I am apartment hunting in my second language. Alvaro's sweet mom has taken on the role of helping me and she makes decisions in a flash. She knows whether or not she likes the apartment before we walk into the building. When we leave an apartment, she asks my opinion with a strong sense of urgency. Take my improving-but-not-quite-yet-fluent Spanish skills, mix them with my extreme indecisiveness and you have a very panicked Meghan. This panic helps though, when I'm panicked my Spanish flows from some subconscious part of me and as the words tumble from my lips I realize, "Oh, hey, I'm actually learning."

Conquering one vocabulary pocket at a time.

The dreaded double "rr"

Today is the day I have been dreading for weeks.

My children are learning to read and write by working through every letter of the alphabet. When a new letter is introduced they listen to a small story that features an abundance of the the new letter. Such as,

"La llama llorona esta llorando porque se perdió su llave."

(The crying llama is crying because she lost her key.) 

Clearly that lesson is about the "ll".

I knew this day would come, I was simply waiting for the humiliation. One of the things I find most fascinating about  languages, is the difficulties non-native speakers have when trying to pronounce difficult native sounds.

For example,
1. "th" in English is incredibly difficult for Spanish speakers because there is no such sound in Spanish
2. The German umlaut (ü) is one of the impassable barriers between my German and the German I would like to have. I once told a receptionist that I need to "push my paper" because I can't correctly pronounce the difference between "drücken" (to push) and "drucken" (to print).
3. Then there is the horrible rolling of the "r". This hinders me from distinguishing between words like "dog" & "but" and "car" & "expensive"

Today my kids learned the "rr". Last week they learned about "rr"'s weak Superhero friend, the single "r". This weak "r" is scared by vowels so he makes a very quiet sound. But strong "rr" isn't afraid and makes a loud rolling sound.

The Spanish teacher left the room for a while so I had to help the students and needed to tell them words like "cart" and "vineyard," all with the "rr". I took to simply writing them down because I can't properly pronounce them and felt like I was hindering their understanding of the differences between the sounds.

When the teacher came back, I sheepishly told her that I can't roll my "r"s and using hand drawn illustrations, showed me how I can properly train my tongue to make the sound. She finished her explanation by saying, "You simply need to train the tongue. Since there are very few strong sounds in English your mouth is weak."

Hmph. At least I've still got "th".

Ocho y cuarenta

I am working on my Spanish, one day at a time.

I studied Spanish in high school but to be honest, never put in that extra effort that is need to really learn a language. I studied vocabulary and did well on my tests, but I never attempted to actually use the language.

Most of my life in Lima is still in English. My relationship is in English, I teach English at a language institute and I work in a bilingual private school. It's possible to go through my day speaking minimal Spanish. My children at school speak to me in Spanish and I reply in English. It's my job to reply in English, which is a nice little shield from their overly critical ears.

Last week, one very sweet boy came up to me and asked, "Miss, what time is it?" to which I replied (in English) "It's 8:40." Unsure that he understood correctly, he looked up at me and repeated the time in Spanish, "Ocho y cuarenta?"

"Yes," I said, "ocho y cuarenta."


A huge smile came across his face, he turned to his friends and said through a giggle laced with a slight accent: "Ocho y cuarenta."

The next morning, we were lining up to go to our first activity of the day and this little boy was first in line. His round face looked up at me and he flashed an adorable smile, showing the gap where his two front teeth should be. His face lit up while he said, "Good morning, Miss. Ocho y cuarenta."


It seems that this sweet boy can't remember to take home his lunchbox but he can remember my American accent on "ocho y cuarenta."

Spanish Miracle

I have absolutely no idea what happened but sometime over the last week, I started speaking Spanish. I completely abandoned all of my Spanish education when I went to Belmont. I was convinced that I would never again need to learn Spanish and I threw myself into my German class. Little did I know that four years later, those same German classes would lead me to Lima, Peru. It’s funny how things work like that.

When I arrived, I was able to understand some things, if the speaker spoke slowly. I have been able to read signs, contracts, the newspaper, you name it, which has significantly helped with my adjustment in Lima. The biggest challenge was getting my mind to recall of those Spanish structures and vocabulary words that I learned so long ago.

I have spent the last five months listening intently and attempting to speak my very, very butchered Spanish. About a week and a half ago, Alvaro and I went to a huge lunch at his parents house with most of his extended family from his dad’s side. Since we were indulging in a huge Peruvian meal, Pisco Sours flowed freely and there was a wide variety of wine choices. Somewhere between the pisco sour and white wine, I started speaking Spanish more than I ever had before. In an interesting turn of events, I started speaking Spanish on top of other conversations and yelling across the table. I was speaking animated Spanish in a way I had never done before.

Thanks to the pisco, everyone at lunch showered me with compliments about my Spanish. I think the compliments (and the pisco) was all I needed to show myself that I really can do this. Ever since then, I have had few worries going into a Spanish speaking situation without my dear translator, Alvaro.

I have been involved in a new job search and yesterday, all of the English speakers were out of the office. So I had an involved conversation regarding vacation policies, pay rate and benefits with one of the secretaries. I know it’s not perfect, but it is getting better little by little. Which is such a relief. And the best part is that now I actually wantto speak Spanish, I find myself trying to be in situations where I have no choice but to speak this crazy language.

In other news- I have been in Peru for five months. It’s official: I have now been here longer than I was in Germany. Who ever would have guessed that living in Germany would have brought me to Peru...

Quaquer?

The institute where I am teaching, believes that it is important for their students to be exposed to a variety of teaching styles and accents when learning English. As a result, students are not assigned to one particular teacher, but rather, the teachers rotate between the groups regularly. Last night I had class with one of my favorite groups.

This group of three women is in Level 2 and they all speak surprisingly good English for being so early in the program. Since there are together every day for class, they have formed friendships between each other which makes the learning atmosphere more enjoyable. They are funny and sweet and their enthusiasm is one of the highlights of my job.

Last night, we were reviewing the words like/love/hate/enjoy. The task was for each student to think about when they were a young child and tell the class what they liked, loved, hated and enjoyed.

Merli started by telling the class that she, “loved to go swimming everyday but I hated to drink quaquer.” She and Eloisa burst into laughter as they reminisced about this horrid childhood drink. I didn’t have a clue what she was referring to, but didn’t ask because I wanted her to finish her statements. After she was done speaking and we had discussed a few corrections I asked, “Merli, what is quaquer?”

She told me, “It’s a drink, but is very dense. Sort of like yogurt.”

I still had no idea what she meant. I started to wonder if it was sort of like the very dense, yogurt like qwark that I loved in Germany, but you eat, not drink, qwark. Eloisa also struggled to come up with the words to adequately describe quaquer. I asked Merli how to spell the word and I wrote on the board:

Q-U-A-Q-U-E-R

And still, the language barrier was high. Finally, Eloisa pulled out her Blackberry and did a quick search for the translation of quaquer. The result: oats. As in Quaker oats.

I let out an enthusiastic, “Ohhhhhhh, Quaker oats!!!”

Everyone had a good laugh as we reveled in the relief of finally having the answer and in the realization that the words for “oats” is Spanish is nothing but a Spanishized version of the biggest name brand.

I then asked Merli, “But did you drink [making a drinking gesture with my coffee cup] the oats?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I drank them.”

Thinking that she was wrong, but yet surprised that at this level she didn’t know the difference between to eat and to drink. I said again, “No, but did you drink [again making the gesture] the oats?”

“Yes,” she said, “in Peru, we drink them. That’s why it’s so terrible.”

“Oh,” I replied, “that does sound terrible. In the States you eat them.” I completely agree. Drinking oatmeal sounds awful, no wonder she hated it as a kid. To that I would have to say no gracias.

Language in Children

Last night, we went to a Shrove Tuesday Pancake Feast at our church. Alvaro volunteered to be the official maker of the American Pancakes and most everyone said that they were “the best pancakes I have ever eaten”. Having learned all of his pancake making skills from my dad when he was in the United States, he now feels like he has graduated from the Gwaltney School of Pancake Making and can honestly call himself a panquequero. [There really isn’t a translation for this word. It takes the Spanish word for pancake “panqueque” and rhymes it with the Spanish word for cowboy “vaquero”. Therefore it’s a made up word that suggests a pancake making cowboy. One of the women used this word to describe him last night, and I found it incredibly fitting.]

I was there simply to supervise the pancake making and serve as an official American representative if needed. While the men were busy frying sausage and flipping pancakes, I entertained myself by playing with the children. In the midst of this, I introduced myself to a man that I had seen before, but never formally met. He and his wife are American college professors that are in Peru leading their school’s International Studies program for one year. As all of the children ran circles around us, I asked, “and these are your children?” To which he replied, “Yes, all the younger ones.”

A few minutes later, an adorable two year old boy wearing a Peruvian soccer jersey came up to me holding a wooden toy. With his large, greenish eyes he looked at me and in Spanish said, “Mine.” Confused, I replied in Spanish, “Yes, this is yours.” He then looked at me again, pointed to my hat and said in Spanish, “Yours.” Again I replied, “Yes, this is mine.” After our short exchange, he became distracted by the freshly made pancakes and ran away, toy in hand.

What was so confusing was that this boy was the youngest child of the American family, or so I thought. But his free use of Spanish confused me. Midway through the evening, Alvaro was relieved of his panquequero duties, we took our pancakes and sat down near this young family. The same little boy was sitting next to me and his very American mother. He was struggling to take off his shoes and I asked him, “Do you need help?” Without skipping a beat he looked at me as said, “sí!” After removing his shoe he ran over to his mother and tried to play with her purse. He began demanding things inside and performed the whole exchange in Spanish, “I want that, no this. Mine, not yours.” She looked at us and said, “Now he prefers to speak in Spanish.”

This boy’s mom told us that he, as well as his two siblings, attend a preschool that is completely in Spanish. They also have a part time nanny that speaks to the children in Spanish. This simple immersion experience has taught this boy the most important words of a two year old’s vocabulary: Mine, Yours, No, Yes and I want. She continued to tell us that he actually prefers to speak in Spanish and in many instances, doesn’t even speak to his parents in English. The most surprising part, is that he recognizes that his parents are the English speakers and his teachers are the Spanish speakers. His mom told us that on a few occasions he has been speaking to her in Spanish and then before walking off, gives a little attitude and says, “thank you,” in English, as if he thinks she wouldn’t understand the word “gracias”.

As we were talking, another woman joined the conversation who is American, but has a German husband. She told us that when her two boys were younger, they didn’t grasp the concept of translation between German and English. That if asked, “how do you say this in German?” they were unsure. All they knew was that their mom spoke English and their dad spoke German, as if they were aware of the languages as forms of communication, but couldn’t yet see the connection between the two.

As I struggle to correctly pronounce the sounds of Spanish and am working on conjugating more quickly, I am constantly aware of how we learn and adjust to a new language. It is fascinating to me that children, when placed in an immersion experience, learn a second language the way that they learn their first langue. Simply by listening and then repeating. While listening to the two year old American Spanish speaker, Alvaro noted that he had absolutely no accent, but rather sounded like a Peruvian child. Can someone please teach me how to speak like that?

The Lighthouse

One day I’ll write a book about my taxi adventures in Lima.

Tonight once I got into the taxi, the driver asked me to confirm the address. I told him the building was on “Malecón Cisneros”. He began driving and after a few minutes we were driving along “Malecón Reserva”. He asked me, “Señorita, what is the address?” To which I replied, “No, Señor, it is on Malecón Cisneros.” I thought this would be an easy solution, that is until he asked me how to get there.

Since Lima is mainly comprised of a confusing collection of one-way streets, I am still trying to find my orientation within the city. I usually know where I am and in what direction I need to travel, but I struggle with knowing what streets to take. Often times, the most direct route is impossible to take because you will run into at least one one-way street along the way. Instead, you must take a convoluted path of several one-way streets until you reach your destination. I now realize that I have inherited my parents’ need for annoyingly precise and direct traffic routes from any Point A to Point B. Yes, mom and dad, I publicly admitted that.

Though I couldn’t explain how to get there, I did remember that the building was near the lighthouse. Surely he would know how to get there. I began to tell him that the building was near the-oh no-in this exact moment I realized that in all my years of Spanish education, I never, ever learned the word for lighthouse.

“Señor, it is near the, oh no, I don’t know the word in Spanish. But it is a small white and black building with a light on-uh- with a light.”

He didn’t understand.

Thinking that he might understand if I said it again, I repeated my description, “the building is black and white with a light...” This wasn’t helpful.

“Señor, when boats are in the ocean at night, it helps them to see the beach...”

His only response was laughter and a sincere apology that he still didn’t understand what I meant.

I frantically called Alvaro- no answer. I then called his sister and right after she said “hello” my phone cut out. It was only natural that I ran out of phone credit at that exact moment. She called me back and I quickly told her I needed to know the word for lighthouse:

“Saro,” she told me, meanwhile I was thinking, “I have definitely never heard that word before.” She repeated the word and finally spelled it for me “s-a-r-o”.

“Señor, Señor! It’s near the saro! It’s near the saro!” I caught his eyes in the rearview mirror and instead of being met with understanding, I found more confusion. “The saro! The saro! The saro! The saro!” I repeated over and over again.

Finally he replied, “Señorita, near the faro?”

“No!” I said, “The SARO!!! S-A-R-O!”

“Señorita, the word is faro, not saro. Faro with an F.”

“With an F, not an S?”

“Yes, Señorita, with an F.”

By this point, we were driving by the faro and he pointed to the small black and white building repeating, “faro, faro, faro”.

Without a doubt, that evening at dinner he told his wife about the American girl who spent ten minutes trying to say the word faro.

Spanish or something like it

Yesterday I had lunch with a woman from church who spends nine months out of the year in Peru and the other three months back in the United States. She and her husband are missionaries in Lima and this is the third year they have been here. In my mind, that makes her somewhat of an expert on adjusting to life in Peru. Her best advice? Embark on small quests and celebrate your small victories. Whether its dedicating an afternoon to finding a famous chocolate shop or successfully finding dill in the supermarket, it’s these quests and subsequent triumphs that have helped her adjust to Peruvian life.

Today I had a small language triumph.

I commute to work with a private taxi company and since I have become a regular customer, I have started to recognize the drivers. This morning, when dropping me off my driver asked if I was taking Spanish lessons at the school, to which I replied, “No, soy una profesora de inglés.” (No, I’m an English teacher). That small admission and my noticeably lighter hair and skin color tipped him off to my American citizenship.

The same driver picked me up to take me to Alvaro’s grandfather’s house for lunch. About ten minutes into the ride he said a quick sentence composed of several words I understood and a few that I didn’t. I replied, “I’m sorry, could you speak a little slower...” and then he repeated the question. He wanted to ask me about the economic crisis in the United States. Oh boy. I don’t know that I am qualified to speak about that situation in English, let alone in Spanish. I tried my best. I talked about interest rates and bank loans and home foreclosures. He asked why a lot of people don’t like Obama and I said because things haven’t changed as much as they would have liked. “I, however, do like him. The country was in a really bad place when he became President and la cambia (change) takes time.” We continued to chat about American policy regarding war and economics all the way to my destination. Before I exited the car I said, “Thank you for helping me practice my Spanish. I really need to speak but I am really afraid to.” He laughed, said that I did fine and reassured me that speaking English like that would be difficult for him.

As I opened the door he said, “Earlier you said la cambia, it’s actually el cambio.”

I said, “Ah, sí. Cambiar is the verb and cambio is the noun. Muchas gracias.”

“De nada, señorita. Feliz año y hasta luego.” (You’re welcome, ma’am. Happy New Year and see you later.)