The ongoing struggle to keep multiple balls in the air--parenthood, job, creative practice--has resulted in another time lapse, but the unexpected gift of a break in employment has made me more determined to keep writing and making.
So, yesterday afternoon, my stepchildren and I played Monopoly. As we bought and sold property, forked over taxes, went to jail and collected rent, I listened to the conversation that flowed easily and quickly--in English, a language that the kids did not speak less than a year ago. As an educator, I had put so much thought into how to manage the transition from speaking French to English at home. But the transition had happened without management; it was the kids who decided, who had gotten to the point where their grammar, listening comprehension, vocabulary, and use of idiom was so proficient that it simply made sense.
I remember the murky anticipatory moments prior to their arrival late last year, when I tried to imagine what path their adjustment process would take. I had a dream in which my stepson spoke to me in perfect English--and woke up overcome with emotion because I couldn't imagine that day--I had never heard him speak a single word of my native language. It seemed to abstract and far away.
Being the kind of person to employ internet research in search of some control over uncontrollable situations, I googled "length of time to learn English" and got dozens of wildly different answers. Lesson learned: each English language learner is different and I was forced to accept that I wouldn't know until it happened.
The kids started school in English ten days after they arrived in the United States. While they each had other francophone students in their classes, they were essentially forced to learn in English from day one. I couldn't imagine how hard it must of been to walk into a new school in a new country and culture surrounded by a foreign language. But they had at least some experience: schooling in Niger is in French, a language that most children don't learn until they begin their formal education.
As they began to learn, the educator--and English speaker--in me fretted about the best way to support their language acquisition. And I feared that they'd fall behind in school due to the gap in understanding they were experiencing because of a migration that had, after all, come about because of me. I worried that they wouldn't learn fast enough and would struggle in school for years. I emailed their teachers daily to ask which kinds of books they should be reading and in which language and when I should switch from speaking French at home to English.
I remember when they learned the basic greetings and what an accomplishment it was to say "nice to meet you". I remember when they began to put basic sentences together, when out of nowhere they started using complex grammar and tease each other in English. I don't remember when I started speaking to them in my regular, slurred and hurried pace but I know I did because it was clear they understood everything.
In less than a year, my stepchildren are proficient in English, reading almost at grade level and able to navigate easily in an English-speaking world. I am in awe of their intelligence, perseverance, and drive. I also see that, by speaking English together, our relationship is deepening. As much as I love the French language, I have always felt that speaking it removed a piece of my personality--I appreciate how pliable and versatile English is. And I'm grateful to now share this language with my children.
So, yesterday afternoon, my stepchildren and I played Monopoly. As we bought and sold property, forked over taxes, went to jail and collected rent, I listened to the conversation that flowed easily and quickly--in English, a language that the kids did not speak less than a year ago. As an educator, I had put so much thought into how to manage the transition from speaking French to English at home. But the transition had happened without management; it was the kids who decided, who had gotten to the point where their grammar, listening comprehension, vocabulary, and use of idiom was so proficient that it simply made sense.
I remember the murky anticipatory moments prior to their arrival late last year, when I tried to imagine what path their adjustment process would take. I had a dream in which my stepson spoke to me in perfect English--and woke up overcome with emotion because I couldn't imagine that day--I had never heard him speak a single word of my native language. It seemed to abstract and far away.
Being the kind of person to employ internet research in search of some control over uncontrollable situations, I googled "length of time to learn English" and got dozens of wildly different answers. Lesson learned: each English language learner is different and I was forced to accept that I wouldn't know until it happened.
The kids started school in English ten days after they arrived in the United States. While they each had other francophone students in their classes, they were essentially forced to learn in English from day one. I couldn't imagine how hard it must of been to walk into a new school in a new country and culture surrounded by a foreign language. But they had at least some experience: schooling in Niger is in French, a language that most children don't learn until they begin their formal education.
As they began to learn, the educator--and English speaker--in me fretted about the best way to support their language acquisition. And I feared that they'd fall behind in school due to the gap in understanding they were experiencing because of a migration that had, after all, come about because of me. I worried that they wouldn't learn fast enough and would struggle in school for years. I emailed their teachers daily to ask which kinds of books they should be reading and in which language and when I should switch from speaking French at home to English.
I remember when they learned the basic greetings and what an accomplishment it was to say "nice to meet you". I remember when they began to put basic sentences together, when out of nowhere they started using complex grammar and tease each other in English. I don't remember when I started speaking to them in my regular, slurred and hurried pace but I know I did because it was clear they understood everything.
In less than a year, my stepchildren are proficient in English, reading almost at grade level and able to navigate easily in an English-speaking world. I am in awe of their intelligence, perseverance, and drive. I also see that, by speaking English together, our relationship is deepening. As much as I love the French language, I have always felt that speaking it removed a piece of my personality--I appreciate how pliable and versatile English is. And I'm grateful to now share this language with my children.
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