Deutsche

I, like most other students in High School, decided to take a foreign language to better myself (right after I found out I had to). I decided the most practical language choice, due to the proliferation of Western Europeans in East Tennessee, would be German. Additionally, my brother had taken German before me so it was only natural for me to follow in his footsteps…and maybe get some good ol’ fashion free tutoring.

This was, as I suppose it is for most people, my first experience with learning a language outside of early development, and therefore the first time that I really considered language and what it meant. Prior to this point, I didn’t pay much attention to the sounds coming out of my mouth; they were the same sounds that everyone around me made, and as far as I was concerned they were all I needed. English, in my subconscious estimation, was the only important language. Though I was fully aware that there are a myriad of languages spoken all over the globe, it came almost as a surprise to me when, in German class, I came to the realization that not everyone else in the world felt the same way I did about English. Rather, they probably felt the way I did about there own language, in this case German. When they see a pane of glass built into a wall or door, they see a fenster (not a window). While this may not strike most people as an epiphany, I think it was an important step in my quest to understanding language.

In class we’ve discussed the fact that language is just a series of sounds to which we assign value, which is essentially the same conclusion I drew from my experience with German; unfortunately, my two semesters as a C student in German were not enough to instill in my memory any vocabulary or linguistic ability of consequence. Despite this fact, I found some sense of empowerment at home being the only member of the family capable of communicating with my brother in our new and mysterious language. We rarely used our secret language, which was comprised primarily of short incoherent sentences, to communicate secretly; instead, I think, it was mostly just for our own entertainment or practice. Either way, we obviously did not do it enough, as reflected by my afore mentioned grade.

Thinking back on the class, however, I can soundly and honestly say I did put effort into my work, and I would venture a judgment that the German teacher at my High School was at the very least competent, not to mention one of the best teachers I had encountered up to that point in my education. To this day I have a large amount of respect for that teacher, and confidence in the effectiveness of his class. This, in my mind at least, begs the question of why I got a C. To some, a C may seem like an adequate grade for a non essential class like foreign language, and in the big scheme of things I would have to agree, but it makes me wonder if I would be a C immigrant (if there is such a thing). If I attended a class for an hour and a half every weekday for what amounted to about 9 months, shouldn’t I be fluent in German?

In reality, to answer my own question, no. For better or worse, even the desire for good grades was not enough to motivate me to go above and beyond what was required of me, which was an easy thing to avoid because it was to nobody’s convenience, myself included, to improve my German speaking skills. Unlike the immigrant who must communicate to survive, my class necessitated only that I do the bare minimum in order to pass. So, while I don’t intend to Germany any time soon, I believe that I gained a broader appreciation of language that has served me well in my studies and will continue, I think, to aid my comprehension of the world around me for years to come.