The Begending

Remember in the first Matrix movie where Keanu says, “this isn’t the end, but the beginning”? Well my learning of German is not like that; at least I hope it produces better outcomes than sappy Christian metaphors and raindrops hitting eyeballs in super-duper slow-mo. When we moved to Germany and I began studying the language, I had visions of carrying on jovial conversations in Deutsch, cracking people up with my witty German banter. Alas, this did not end up being the case, but I am not especially disappointed in myself. I feel that I have learned a satisfactory amount. Having not spent more than two semesters in Spanish class, I had not realized how extensive learning a language is. I had expected that learning as much as I learned in these 7 months I would be able to be more fluent.

So here is where I am. Most of the time, when someone is speaking to me in German I can figure out the meaning of the conversation. I can piece together enough of the words that I can make a guess to what someone is saying. However, this can lead to being completely wrong if someone says “not something” and I hear “something.” When I need to be sure, as in getting our deposit back from our landlord, I am less able to figure out what is being said, and less willing to guess. When another English speaker is around, I more readily give in and look to him or her for help. When a conversation lasts more than a few sentences without a break I begin to lose where I am and sometimes ask someone to speak slower. If it is in a group, I usually begin to daydream. This is especially the case in church. Going to church, or in a work meeting, spoken in German brought me back to what I felt like as a child. Everything takes sooo long, and is mostly boring. My imagination, however, got a good workout in each of these settings (only on a couple occasions did I need to refrain myself from laughing after daydreaming about something that I had found humorous previously). I was also reminded of childhood while reading newspapers. I remember never understanding why people enjoyed newspapers, and here, again, I would read the captions and look at the pictures, make my way through the headlines, and spend extra time on people I recognized, specifically the US celebrities that would show up regularly in the Bad Oeynhausen paper. (So if you have kids that get bored easily, remember it is difficult to pay attention when you don’t understand everything that is going on.)

Speaking was quite different than listening and understanding. If I was able to follow along in a conversation I would often reply in English, as I was not quick enough to develop a sentence in German. I could mostly develop sentences that would make sense with what I wanted to get across, although not all of them were understandable, and it would take time to begin the next statement or sentence. When someone would ask if there were parts of the language that I had learned or if they requested me to say something, I would often reply with the sentences I had practiced the most. This included: “I don’t know,” “I don’t understand,” or “what would you like on your bread.”

In truth, I had the best conversations and learned the most from the residents at my two positions. I am grateful for the patience and grace that each would give me as they attempted to make clear to me what was on their mind. They would not become annoyed or feel uncomfortable if I needed to ask them to say something again, or to speak more slowly. They were also willing to wait as I tried a couple times to get across what I wanted to say. Not everyone is as practiced at these skills as the individuals that helped me learn very many things.

Switching jobs when we did also helped me turn a corner with my language learning. In my first job, I was not expected to know any German and was treated accordingly. In the second placement, the manager told the staff to not speak English to us because we wanted to learn German. This was good, although added some stress and separation into the work environment. Possibly the best part about switching positions was the opportunity to go back to the first placement. When visiting I would show off my newer German skills and cause statements such as: “I didn’t recognize him because the man that was here before didn’t speak German.”

Overall, I felt that some people think that I learned very much German in the seven months we lived in Bergkirchen and others thought I learned next to nothing. It depended on how much English I could speak with them initially (what habit we formed from the beginning) as well as how much German I spoke with them, or how long our conversations were.

So I want Keanu to be right, my hope is that this is not the end of my language learning, but the beginning. I hope to develop my skills further and gain new vocabularies and understand more rules. I do not know if I will use this practically in the future, but what I may have learned most (and had assumed before) is that learning a language is valuable regardless of whether I use it or not.

-Dan

The Joy of My Failures

As Bryce has been finding comfort in the commonality and humanity of our “incomplete” condition, I have been searching for joy in my failures. I hate to fail. I see it as a reflection of my character and myself. I respect the wisdom of Lincoln in that it is better to remain quiet and thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. It is part of my quiet nature, maybe not a primary piece but affects the opportunities in which I choose to exert myself. With time and maturity, this has waned some, but it remains part of me. Now, I better be careful or this could turn into one of my Dad’s sermons on grace, and if that is your frame of thinking it would certainly be relevant, but as I learn a new language and struggle in an entry level position searching for this joy is an integral part of my day and time here.

As I’ve learned more and more German, I haven’t been amazed about the struggles that have followed as much as amazed that I was ever able to learn English. As the old adage says, the more I know, the more I realize what I do not know. At work I have gotten into a somewhat comfortable communicative rhythm with my coworkers. The base of our communication is in English, with some it is the only language used. This is easy, and hard to avoid, but I am left questioning my choices. If I coast through and learn little German, I would be disappointed. The days that I come back from work feeling good are the shifts that I work with people who speak less English. I am forced to put the little knowledge that I have to use. What escapes is severely broken and incomplete, but enjoyable. I am grateful for the patience and understanding of my coworkers, and trust that they see me as competent, even if I am not in their language.

Competence in my tasks at work is another struggle and failure I have to work at consistently to stay positive. The list of tasks I cannot due is long. I cannot answer the phone, I cannot do things on my own very often, I cannot help a resident if they need to communicate something I do not understand (most often I seek a coworkers aid to reveal something like “he was just showing you what he will use for his teeth later tonight”), I cannot chart any notes, I cannot do inventory of food when delivered, I cannot distribute medication, and I cannot hold extended and meaningful conversations with residents and coworkers. These are some of the simple duties that I am unable to perform, out of which I hope grow no resentments from coworkers. The procedures that I have been taught and learned have taken considerable time. Not only are there new cultural styles to adapt to, but also being taught in a simpler or incomplete English style. Added to this an apparent scolding by the boss to the staff to pick up their slacking duties and the lack of understanding can become overwhelming. Necessary are daily reminders of big pictures, what would I do for myself in my morning routine, or to clean up for the day and apply these to the residents (feel free to insert your “well Dan your cleanliness is substandard” jokes here).

There is a list, equally long and some would say more important, that I am able to accomplish. And great joy comes from these and the, accumulating, successful interactions with residents. But each day brings constant reminders of the gap that was not visible when I lived in an area where my communicative ability was standard.

Finding the joy in these experiences can be easier in some instances than others. I was asked to bring one commonly opinionated resident to the local grocery store recently. She would normally walk on her own, but due to the snow I was asked to bring her in a wheelchair. I was instructed that she knew what she wanted and had the money necessary. Our previous interactions were congenial although it usually ended with the only thing I understood being her saying “You don’t understand do you?” While going through the market we picked up some apples, she asked me to weigh them in order to print the label necessary to pay. She grew a little frustrated as I tried to ask what code to use for the apples, as I did not see one. A store employee eventually bailed us out. Following the produce I spent considerable time pushing her through the isles in the chair with her repeating various patterns of “Nein, hier, da, and zuruck (back).” The looks on the store workers faces implied that they were enjoying themselves. And in honesty so was I. Eventually, she gave up on me and got out of the wheelchair to retrieve her own items, but was grateful to me for bringing her and helping her as best I could.

As much as I know the importance of this process, it is something I continue to need to push myself to do. Some days, it is nice to speak English. The number of conversations I have started is minimal. Speaking in groups of 3, 4, or 5 gets increasingly intimidating. But it is something that I will regret if I do not do.