[AKA The Most Parenthetically Afflicted, Foot-Note Infested Entry Yet]
I have a confession to make.
(Are you on the edge of your seat, yet? No? Well, I’ll give you a moment.)
I am not, and have never been, truly, passionately interested in Latin American cultures or countries. I also hated my first year studying Spanish. My sole purpose upon entering the first day of class my second year was to get the year over with as quickly as possible and head for the hills with my two consecutive credits of foreign language, done and over with forever.
Six and a half years of Spanish study later, I’m sitting in Costa Rica writing this.
Now, to say that I’m not passionately interested in Latin America doesn’t mean it doesn’t interest me at all. The world is a huge place and I’ve only lived in one country (mostly). Everywhere I’ve never been fascinates me on some level (except for perhaps Nebraska, Kansas and Arkansas) and I have dreamt of traveling to so many places I must have spent an excessive percentage of my life sleeping (though my body contests this point). The thing of it is, on the list of places that I would drop an entire year of my life and run away to on a whim, Latin America has never been very near the top of the list.
This statement, of course, begs the question, “So, er, why exactly was it that you decided to become an, er, well, a Spanish teacher, as it were?”
And the answer that I hasten to assuage your fears with is this: Have you ever looked at language? I mean, really, truly, deeply looked, analyzed, compared, discovered, played and experimented with language? Because if you haven’t, you should try it sometime. It’s an addicting habit. Language contains the entire history of the world.* Everything that humanity is, it tries to express within language. Ultimately, it fails, because there are some things you just can’t wrap two-dimensional symbols and simple phonemes around. But we try so hard.
Language is hopelessly entwined with culture; it creates and defines a people as it is created and defined itself. This is one reason that I find language intoxicatingly fascinating and also the reason that I feel it is an act of negligence for a language instructor to step into a classroom with less than a semester’s worth of experience in at least one culture that speaks the language of their endorsement area (See: entry-yet-to-be-written-discussing-why-I’m-so-excited-to-teach-Spanish).
You see the truth is: I love Spanish because it is language. My passion for it lies in its linguistic attributes, not in the cultural. But because I love it from a different angle, doesn’t mean I love it any less. And I have grown to appreciate the cultures and histories that Spanish embodies through study of the language, rather than following the more typical path of cultural appreciation leading to linguistic. I’m constantly in awe here because I’m learning so much that I never knew before. Frankly, what is more fascinating than a story involving, history, politics, conquest, tropical jungles and grammar? Sign me up for the next adventure in Costa Rican linguistic history…**
That said, I regularly daydream of sailing the Mediterranean, backpacking the Camino de Santiago and getting lost in cities so old they’ve worn the name tags of at least three different empires (Istanbul née Constantinople née Byzantium, anyone?).
After all, it’s always good to have plans for the next trip…
[PS for the boy: …which will be much shorter than the most recent two, I promise ;-)]
*You can argue with me here, if you like, and I might even come around, but that’s another entry for another day. Anyone completely unable to restrain their objections may feel free to email me. I’ve had a shortage of debates for the sake of debate, lately.
** The form “vos,” (not to be confused with “vosotros,”) being the first adventure. How did I not know of its existence?
No comments:
Post a Comment