One of the things learners soon face in their journey to a new language is stage fright. They may understand what they are hearing, and in their mind they know exactly what they should say, but the fear of not being able to pronounce the words correctly, or express themselves properly or just sound a bit silly can turn the learner into a virtual mute. I used to be the one of latter one. When we first move to the USA, I knew a few English phrases, such as “My name is...”, “I’m fine, thank you” and “My pencil is yellow”. My English teacher had been a lovely British lady, and, being these the dark days before cable and satellite TV, she had been my only reference to the English language. So you may imagine my shock when I encountered the sing-a-long accent of the American south. If these people were speaking English, then I must have accidentally learned Chinese in school, because I could not understand a word they were saying. And it was in such circumstances that I started Middle School, after 6 years sheltered under the protective wings of a nun-run primary institution.
So there I was, in a gigantic new school, in the middle of a sea of children who mysteriously disappeared when the bell rang. A teacher came to me, babbling something which I understood to mean “why are you not in your classroom” and to which I answered with a blank stare. He took me to the principal’s (head teacher’s) office and after a few minutes of them asking my name and where I was from and me not answering, afraid I would get my words mixed-up, they send for someone, who I hoped, would be the Spanish teacher. Instead, a Hindu girl entered the room and started to talk to me non-stop, and whatever she was speaking, Spanish it was not. Then it hit me.
Although I think I look pretty much Latina, the truth is that people all over keep mistaking me for someone from India. As the girl kept on talking, I realized that unless I clarify where I was from, nobody would be able to truly help me. So after a month of selective mutism, I opened my mouth and muttered: “me speak Spanish; me from Venezuela.” And surprise, surprise: nobody laugh at me. No one corrected me or frown-upon my poor grammar. The people in the room sighed relieved, called the Spanish teacher and sent me to my classroom. That day I introduced myself, asked for apple pie at lunch time, became part of a study group and met the girl who would be my best friend for years. During that whole year, while I learned English painfully (no ESL classes, just total immersion learning) not at a soul mocked my accent, refuse to repeat when I said that I didn’t understand or made me feel stupid because of my Tarzan-like fluency. And in my experience, that still true for most language students.
Most native-speakers you will encounter will be happy to lend you a helping hand with your second- language acquisition. Some may be more humorous than others, and there will the occasional language Scrooge. But all on all, natives are pleased when foreigners do the effort to learn their language and most of them will show you patience and give you suggestions on your pronunciation and usage of the language. I have yet to meet the first person who thinks that a language learner is “stupid” or “silly” just because they are not proficient in their second language. If anything, most natives feel admiration for a person (especially and adult) that takes the time and trouble to start something new. So don’t be afraid to make mistakes in front of other people. Your tutor or teacher is there to guide you; your classmates are walking your same path; the locals appreciate your efforts in more ways that you can imagine. Every time you use your second language, no matter how roughly or imperfectly, you are telling them that you care: about their culture, the nation and their community. And that can only generate good-will and pave the way to true friendships.
