This morning I had the pleasure of sitting at a local IHOP with no other company than a wonderful waiter and one of my newest textbooks. I sat studiously taking notes, leisurely sipping at a coffee and eating my usual fruitful Danish crêpes. The textbook at my side during the breakfast has become a particularly new venture of mine, Spanish. I have always been enthralled by the language and culture but never ventured beyond the word taco language wise. And yes, I know, taco probably does not even count since I learned it at Taco Bell in the fifth grade.
Aside from my mother tongue of English, my foreign language background lies in French. As a teensy second grader, an old woman used to make the trip to the classroom I was in to speak French with us. The woman taught us the alphabet, numbers and some weather related phrases. My French studies, however, did not continue again until seventh grade where I stayed after school most days to keep my learning on going in hopes of one day being fluent in a language my family seemed to be rooted in, a handful of them anyway.
From middle school to about my junior year of high school, my French studies were quite solid. I had class every day, and stayed after school about two days a week. I traveled to Quebec for a long weekend in tow with two French teachers and about a dozen other students. We practiced our dicey language on the less than concerned natives. On that trip, I was also introduced to porn by a gothically dressed roommate and sat on. Consequently, my thumb was broken. However, none of that is even slightly relevant.
After graduating from my high school years, I took a two yearlong breather from the French language. Then, the spring before last, I decided to begin again. I continued on with my studies for two semesters, then decided against continuing for personal reasons.
My personal reasons went as follows:
- Although I had spent years tangling myself up in the French language, it did not seem to want to tangle itself up in me.
- I had no yearning plans to visit France or any other French speaking country, aside from Canada. And, as most know, English comes easy in Canada.
- There is no real use for French in America. Really.
The decision was then simple: stop taking French. Fin.
Now, I am studying Spanish. Why? I want to go to Spain, and because Ernest Hemingway has convinced me rather thoroughly. Conveniently enough, Spanish is also quite usable in America. So, Spanish. Hola.
Now that you have had a thorough and somewhat exact introduction to my language studies, I can begin the true story at hand. Foreign Languages and IHOP. I know what you’re thinking: This is going to be some racist rant about the wait staff. Oh, not at all.
As I was sitting doing my homework, an elder couple sat in the booth adjacent to mine. The husband of the couple noticed my Spanish textbook and proceeded to ask why in the world I would be studying such a language. I smiled, and laughed nervously as any polite young woman would. That was not a proper answer for him, so he continued on. His next reasoning for sighting that suddenly controversial Spanish textbook was that I would need to know the language fluently in order to get a job. I replied, “Well, no.” I assumed that would be the end of it.
After another small conversation with my waiter, the husband looked to me again. He was beaming with frustration at the sight of a white American girl learning Spanish. He found it ridiculous and proof that our country is crumbling. He asked what other languages I knew. I told him French. Then, he asked if I planned on learning anything else. I smiled, and for kicks went on to say Arabic. How nice it was to see the revolted look smeared upon his face. Quick thinking can be so fantastic.
For those who sympathize with this man’s frustration with Spanish becoming a spoken language among American citizens, let this be your perspective. I attend a nationally recognized University with students from across both the United States and the world. Of the mix that we are: 39% are Hispanic, 19% are white or Non-Hispanic and 18% are black. It is more than safe to say that our country is diverse, just by the judgment of one University. But, I am sure you have noticed that. Why haven’t all of us accepted it then?
This elderly man brings forth three questions. Was he afraid of the communication that could take place between the minority and the majority? Was he racist, or just in denial? Does he believe that all those in America should only be speaking the native tongue of English? Who knows, but stepping in to that IHOP with my Spanish textbook, I was not expecting that particular confrontation.
I digress. ¿Cómo se dice ‘Just eat your food.’ en español?
September 2, 2010
Eat Your Language, Sir
This morning I had the pleasure of sitting at a local IHOP with no other company than a wonderful waiter and one of my newest textbooks. I sat studiously taking notes, leisurely sipping at a coffee and eating my usual fruitful Danish crêpes. The textbook at my side during the breakfast has become a particularly new venture of mine, Spanish. I have always been enthralled by the language and culture but never ventured beyond the word taco language wise. And yes, I know, taco probably does not even count since I learned it at Taco Bell in the fifth grade.
Aside from my mother tongue of English, my foreign language background lies in French. As a teensy second grader, an old woman used to make the trip to the classroom I was in to speak French with us. The woman taught us the alphabet, numbers and some weather related phrases. My French studies, however, did not continue again until seventh grade where I stayed after school most days to keep my learning on going in hopes of one day being fluent in a language my family seemed to be rooted in, a handful of them anyway.
From middle school to about my junior year of high school, my French studies were quite solid. I had class every day, and stayed after school about two days a week. I traveled to Quebec for a long weekend in tow with two French teachers and about a dozen other students. We practiced our dicey language on the less than concerned natives. On that trip, I was also introduced to porn by a gothically dressed roommate and sat on. Consequently, my thumb was broken. However, none of that is even slightly relevant.
After graduating from my high school years, I took a two yearlong breather from the French language. Then, the spring before last, I decided to begin again. I continued on with my studies for two semesters, then decided against continuing for personal reasons.
My personal reasons went as follows:
The decision was then simple: stop taking French. Fin.
Now, I am studying Spanish. Why? I want to go to Spain, and because Ernest Hemingway has convinced me rather thoroughly. Conveniently enough, Spanish is also quite usable in America. So, Spanish. Hola.
Now that you have had a thorough and somewhat exact introduction to my language studies, I can begin the true story at hand. Foreign Languages and IHOP. I know what you’re thinking: This is going to be some racist rant about the wait staff. Oh, not at all.
As I was sitting doing my homework, an elder couple sat in the booth adjacent to mine. The husband of the couple noticed my Spanish textbook and proceeded to ask why in the world I would be studying such a language. I smiled, and laughed nervously as any polite young woman would. That was not a proper answer for him, so he continued on. His next reasoning for sighting that suddenly controversial Spanish textbook was that I would need to know the language fluently in order to get a job. I replied, “Well, no.” I assumed that would be the end of it.
After another small conversation with my waiter, the husband looked to me again. He was beaming with frustration at the sight of a white American girl learning Spanish. He found it ridiculous and proof that our country is crumbling. He asked what other languages I knew. I told him French. Then, he asked if I planned on learning anything else. I smiled, and for kicks went on to say Arabic. How nice it was to see the revolted look smeared upon his face. Quick thinking can be so fantastic.
For those who sympathize with this man’s frustration with Spanish becoming a spoken language among American citizens, let this be your perspective. I attend a nationally recognized University with students from across both the United States and the world. Of the mix that we are: 39% are Hispanic, 19% are white or Non-Hispanic and 18% are black. It is more than safe to say that our country is diverse, just by the judgment of one University. But, I am sure you have noticed that. Why haven’t all of us accepted it then?
This elderly man brings forth three questions. Was he afraid of the communication that could take place between the minority and the majority? Was he racist, or just in denial? Does he believe that all those in America should only be speaking the native tongue of English? Who knows, but stepping in to that IHOP with my Spanish textbook, I was not expecting that particular confrontation.
I digress. ¿Cómo se dice ‘Just eat your food.’ en español?
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