Is language a love barrier?
Did he say bring it or leave it?
So, wait a minute, you said you would do it or you want me to do it?
I could have sworn she just said add salt first. Now she says I should add it last? Oops. Too late.
Can someone just tell me what is going on. . .because I am SO lost!!!
The Tower of Babel was an unfinished project and I can totally understand why, communication can be complicated; living in a foreign country and using a foreign language makes communication very complicated. Receiving instructions on how to complete a task, even after a year in Korea, leaves me feeling confused more often than not. But that’s not what bothers me.
When I meet kids and I want to talk with them, ask them about school, or teach or explain something, I miss English — a lot. Also, when I want to take a conversation with another adult to a deeper level but the vocabulary just isn’t there . . . well, end of conversation.
I came to Korea knowing that I was leaving familiarity. I knew I was trading security for insecurity: that’s what happens when you leave your own country with its culture and language and plunge into a new country. The insecurity can also be called adventure and it’s fun for a young person like me.
Before coming to Korea, my security was teaching. Although I’ve enjoyed a wide variety of work experience on our Bruderhof communities, daycare or kindergarten is my favorite work place. I often savor golden-moment-memories from a classroom full of preschoolers. The recollections can bring a smile to my heart if not my face as well. The idea of creating more golden moments in the day or life of kids could motivate me forever. Unfortunately, put me with Korean kids and I’m as useful as a plumber in a kindergarten classroom. (Actually, I’m even less useful; a plumber could at least unplug toilets or sinks.) So should I go back to where I can speak English? To where I feel more useful and more secure in my usefulness?
Readers, feel free to respond, but my answer is ‘No!’ I don’t want to give up just because I don’t like the feeling of uselessness. Insecurity is okay. God can work more easily with that, than with confident, self-assured, got-my-life-in-control me. Most importantly, experiencing these frustrations for myself made me think of the many Koreans who live in Bruderhof communities in the USA or England. Whatever level of English they have achieved, it will always be a foreign language.
I asked a few of our Korean Bruderhof members, what difficulties they encounter due to language deficiency and I’d like to share some responses with you in case you have not had an opportunity to leave your place of native-language.
I find it hard when. . .
. . . I cannot express my feelings that I want to express in English.
. . . other people are laughing and I can’t understand much. It is fine if I would just leave the place but often I have to stay. . . and then it’s difficult.
. . . I can’t understand you because I can’t really understand what you’re saying.
. . . I often feel like a child when I’m with English-speakers.
. . . I take my dog to the vet and if my face shows any sign of incomprehension, even if I really only missed one professional term, the veterinarian talks to my son as if I am not there. The other workers will also look at my son even when answering my questions. Knowing that I, not my son, is responsible for the decision-making, it is strange. I understand that they want to do their job well, but it is hard. At these times, I realize that living in another country and speaking another language is not easy.
. . . the conversation doesn’t deepen when you’re discussing a topic or socializing with someone else.
. . . fear arises when meeting new people.
. . . people want to hear jokes but when translated they are not funny.
. . . I want to talk deeply with others. It’s hard to tell people about what I think and more details.
. . . my daily life feels like that of a first grade elementary student because of language limitations.
. . . I feel ignored by people.
. . . My children’s English proficiency is increasing, and their Korean proficiency is decreasing. As they grow older, it is difficult for them to communicate at the level appropriate for their age. It is only when we hear our children speak English with others that we become aware of our children’s thoughts and experiences.
. . . I cannot be myself in the English-speaking world due to the language barrier.
Wow. I know linguistic obstacles are real for Koreans who live in our English-speaking communities, but hearing directly from them touched my heart. I can empathize. Maybe these people see God’s purpose for their lives as more important than their present hardships. They have found a calling that’s worth the sacrifice. One mother, after sharing her heart-ache, told me, “it is true that these difficulties exist, but we are also discovering a lot of wisdom and alternative ways to overcome them”.
Language barriers are annoying but they don’t have the last word. (Excuse the pun.) True, Babel didn’t get a tower through the stratosphere, but that was a long shot at best. For me, linguistic limitations are opportunities for creativity. Creative thinking and talking (my inventive Korean sometimes gets some good laughs); creative loving and living. Love in particular, needs no language to find full expression. We native English-speakers, lucky enough to speak today’s lingua franca, shouldn’t wait for English-language-learners to study their way through the language barrier before working from our side. Get creative! Even the clumsiest attempt is better than no attempt. Losing a bit of your pride for the sake of someone else, shows even more love. Remember Maya Angelou’s words:
“People will forget what you said . . . but people will never forget how you made them feel”.
