“You really don’t say a lot in class,” my American classmate remarked one day.
“I know. Bet you wonder what an anxious introvert is learning languages for,” I replied jokingly, but he seemed genuinely confused.
“That’s exactly what I was wondering.”
It had taken eight weeks of Chinese class for me to find the courage to speak to him. In that time I’d been a good student where reading and writing were concerned, but I had never spoken up without being asked. I can’t blame him for finding this strange: he’s an extrovert. His writing might need work, but his spoken Chinese is impressive. His secret? He never stops talking. He throws out answers without a second’s hesitation, leads our group discussions, and makes clever quips with the teacher. I can’t even make quips with a teacher in English. Thinking of them two days later doesn’t count.
Our brief exchange got me thinking: why am I learning languages when I’m afraid of talking? Why am I putting myself though an exchange year in China when every interaction makes me anxious? Why did I, a person too scared to even phone up for a takeaway pizza in my own country, think I could handle this?
Over time I’ve realised I am handling it, just in my own way. I have my embarrassing moments, but I also have my little triumphs. I’ve manage to order new dishes in the canteen, because I’ve looked up every character on the menu and practised them. I’ve been able to book an appointment at the dentist, with a cheat sheet of vocabulary. Being afraid to ask for directions, I’ve memorised routes all around the city. And lately I’ve realised how fortunate I am to be surrounded by language learners, and found people I can actually talk to.
These past few weeks, I’ve been eating lunch with my Korean classmates every day. Although they could easily just hang out together and speak Korean, they make the effort to include me by sticking with Chinese. We’re at the same level, so there’s no real embarassment when we make mistakes, and with their patient encouragment I’ve started to find my voice. It’s not necessarily an interesting voice; our conversations often just revolve around food, family, weekend plans, the weather, more complex topics being beyond us. But even this small talk, which I frequently find awkward and stilted in English, feels like an exhilarating achievement in Chinese.
Sometimes we come up against language barriers, but everyone lends a hand in breaking them down, piling in with suggestions when someone struggles to find a word. To fill the gaps, we often resort to pointing, mime and sound effects. I leave lunch after these amateur dramatics with a spring in my step, full of the amazing Korean food my new friends introduced me to and a deep, warm feeling of connection that I’ve rarely experienced at home.
These are the memories that will stay with me the longest. Not the time I looked stupid in the bank, or stuttered and panicked at the train station, but the lunches I spent laughing and chatting, learning and sharing, and eating huge amounts of kimchi. I feel like these moments have brought me closer to understanding why I chose to study languages in the first place.
I believe I needed to leave the safe confines of my mother tongue to learn how to truly communicate. Having a few words to express yourself means you really put your all into them. Having to listen carefully just to understand someone means you really listen. Paying attention to someone’s expressions and body language to patch up the gaps in your understanding means you really notice them. I feel heard here. I feel seen and connected. These friendships haven’t cured my anxiety, but my confidence is growing. I speak up more in class. I’m more engaged with my surroundings. My whole experience of China has changed. I can even chat to some locals now.
I’ve often heard the advice to “just speak”, but this simple instruction was incredibly daunting to me. Perhaps that works for the extroverts, but I was just too afraid. I feel anxious language learners might need a slightly longer message: start where you’re comfortable. Find the people at your level, the ones who encourage you, the ones who really get it. Then you can “just speak”. Speak with your limited vocabulary, with your bad grammar and awkward turns of phrase. Throw yourself in and speak with your whole being. Give your voice the chance to be heard. You might be surprised how far it can travel.
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