“I’m not good with languages…”

**This post is for everyone who has ever said or thought those words**

I want to part the veil for a quick second. If you forgot or didn’t know, this blog is for one of my MA courses in the College of Ed. So, why is it on Facebook? And why are you reading it? Hopefully, because I’m achieving my goal in making language education compelling and relatable. That’s why I’m in this program in the first place.

I had an epiphany recently. I have come to realize that nearly all of us, at some point, have assumed that some people can learn foreign languages and others cannot. Teachers and students alike consign to this belief, and as a result, expectations are lowered.

“They’re probably not going to be able to speak the language, so let’s at least have them memorize the colors, a few phrases, and be able to count to 100.” 

Here’s my question: We’ve already done it once – why can’t we do it again? We are all fluent in one language, so what’s stopping us from becoming fluent in another?

Now, this is, in no way, “my” question. It’s been asked by linguists, psychologists, educators, and the like for generations, but for all I know, this may be the first time you’ve thought critically about this.

Also, before I go further, I want to acknowledge that, yes, skill is most definitely a factor in becoming fluent in other languages – but it is by no means a prerequisite. 

Think about the last conversation you had. Unless you were having a casual discourse about the complexities of astrophysics, chances are you were not having to exert a great amount of effort or skill into both producing and comprehending language. How did you get so good at the language you speak that you were able to unconsciously communicate with others? Or, maybe a more important question, what did your parents do to enable you to speak your language so fluently?

Well, when you were a baby, your parents spoke to you. What kind of speech did they use? Short, simple words and short, simple grammatical structures. Naturally, the language they used became less simple, but at every juncture, your parents never spoke to you in words that you could not understand. And this is the key principle of Comprehensible Input.

Perhaps even more important is what your parents did not do. Your parents did not have a prescribed, linear timeline for your language development. They did not ask you to memorize a list of 50 vocabulary words, they did not give you written homework, and (best of all) your parents did not say, “Our sweet baby is probably not going to be able to speak the language, so let’s at least have him memorize the colors, a few phrases, and be able to count to 100.”  (I imagine that being followed up with, “At least he’ll be able to order food at a restaurant or ask for directions around town.”)

The important thing is this – when you were a baby, it was your parents responsibility to teach you the language, not yours to learn it. For that reason, I have stolen this line from Dr. Patrick, our professor, and I use it at the beginning of every tutoring session I lead: “I’m the only one here who knows this language. It’s my responsibility to teach it to you.”

The language teacher’s responsibility is simple: help the student naturally acquire the language by providing healthy amounts of comprehensible input.

Your brain is pre-wired to learn language.

You are good with languages.

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