How to learn English

The small classroom was not built to contain thirty boisterous teenagers. I lose track of how many times I ask a question in English and they answer in their native language, Spanish. The inquisitive ones are constantly asking me to repeat things; the disinterested group is somewhere else entirely.

One day a student asks about my macbook – it’s the most interesting object in the room. We strike a deal: if they complete an assignment quietly, they can choose a song from my iTunes playlist. They put their heads down and work hard. Even the disinterested ones are tuned in, under the close watch of their classmates. In the last five minutes of class, we rock out to the Red Hot Chili Peppers… an assignment is born.

Over the next few weeks, pairs of students choose songs written in English. From Yellowcard to the Beatles to Taio Cruz, every Wednesday finds us filling the small room with ballads and jams.  The students bring the music to class, print the lyrics and create listening exercises based on the content. At Christmas I chose “Let it Snow” by Frank Sinatra – the blue-eyed crooner with excellent diction. “It doesn’t show signs of _____,” a lyric true in my native Northeastern US but not so in December in a tiny pueblo in southern Spain.

We found ourselves in conversations about colloquial words and leave the textbooks closed. Bon Jovi has me standing at the board with chalk dust covering my hands, explaining “wanna,” “gonna,” and “ain’t.” We get into discussions about curse words and plurals, slurs and slang.

They dance and sing and make up lyrics; recommend bands and write down songs. They look forward to class. They become more comfortable with each other. They learn English.

Music, film and television are an easy, albeit unfiltered, medium for learning a second language. It brightens a classroom, it encourages questions, it broadens vocabulary. Even if as a teacher, you don’t watch the Simpsons or listen to Michael Jackson – your students might, and they are offering you a great place to start.

–

How do you learn another language?

[ infographic from Kaplan International:
http://kaplaninternational.com/blog/how-to-learn-english/
]

Infographic: How to learn Englishvia Kaplan Blog

[guest blog] From North to South

This guest blog is brought to you by Natalie of crumbcastle. We met via CouchSurfing in 2010 and became fast friends over food, art and language. As the old ladies of the auxiliares hoard (then 27), we spent a lot of time in observation of our compatriots and our adopted country. Natalie’s first assignment was in Northern Spain: Vigo, Galicia. Her second assignment led her to my own backyard: Andalucía (Aracena, Huelva). Below she shares her thoughts, and original artwork.

Yes, last year was a bit of a disaster. I wouldn’t trade it out for the world, but … it was A BIT of a disaster.

My first year abroad as an auxiliar de conversación had high hopes I would be living in a corner of Spain unknown to most travelers, a place with a rich culinary tradition; I would be learning Spanish, exchanging cultures, gaining a new skill set as an English teacher; I could buy manchego and chorizo in an old supermarket.

cheese with your English?

Galicia did live up to most of these things, but two factors effected them tremendously.

1: my job. Crippling disorganization, miscommunication ran rampant; I anticipated cultural exchange, they preferred to keep things strictly British.

I was once told to talk about Pancake Day… “What is that?”
I asked to show the kids Schoolhouse Rock. “What is that??” (request denied).

Of a staff of about 10, I still think some of them had no idea that my home was an ocean and a continent away. When a girl moves abroad for the first time, a surrogate sense of family really does wonders for her transition. Bless ‘em, I was the first auxiliar they’d ever had; I couldn’t be mad at them, but I could be bummed.

2: the weather. Sorry. I’m a sundress and sandals girl. Winter is “sweater weather”; rain coats, fashionably ironic; sunglasses, a mandatory part of my waitress uniform. I had never gone weeks or months without seeing a bright blue sky and Galicia soon taught me just how much that sky can effect my countenance. I was pretty grey and bleak until the sun finally came out .. two weeks before I left.

If rose-colored glasses make people think everything around them is fabulous, my pair of steely blue ones – no matter how I tried to tear them off – were casting serious shadows over my idea of cultural exchange in Spain.

not so rose-colored glasses

Luckily, in an attempt to turn grey-blue into rose-violet, I enrolled in a Spanish class at the Official Language School in Vigo. These schools are throughout Spain for inspired adults to learn a language.

We were inspired; our teacher, an inspiration. She vetoed the usual plague of flash cards and drills. Instead, she carefully directed what felt like a hilarious, addictive forum for us foreigners to go stumble around Spanish. Somewhere amid the laughter and after-school beers, I learned Spanish and found Spain.

caña? so que es?

… All well and good until the grim morning reminder of my day job. The reason I was in Spain. To renew my job for a second year would mean subjecting myself to another year of students who had no desire to learn any English beyond “toilet please.”

Yes, the possibility was powerful repulsive. At least it was only a POSSIBILITY – I could technically get placed anywhere…

Out of pure, morbid curiosity, I reapplied.

—

You know how sometimes your brain files a memory of a conversation under “Kind of Interesting, Soon to Forget” only later to realize it should have been filed under “Totally Creepy and Foreboding”?

One regular escape from Vigo, I happened to be on the same bus to Porto as my Spanish teacher; we got to talking about my “future plans.” This particular topic has the curious effect of turning my brain into a buoyant cloud, no matter how much I’m sure I could use the advice.

A month later, I had in my hands a teaching placement in an official language school in Andalucía. My teacher’s brief, freakishly relevant advice came crashing back: If you get placed in a language school, don’t even hesitate, just go.

The thing is, it’s really hard to ignore advice once it takes on that creepy forebodingness.

I finished off the year, spent the summer in California .. in search of a job .. in denial .. The hideous .. heart. beat.

By September, the morbid curiosity and creepy foreboding had me boarding a plane back to the scene of the crime.

—

It’s now April. I feel very confident I have stumbled upon a new scientific proof: If plain old curiosity kills, then morbid curiosity must create a nullifying double jeopardy where everyone walks away intact – life, cat and all.

curiosidad del gato

Truth be told, I blame it all on that most Spanish of mystery spirits: duende. I wouldn’t have been lured back at all if I hadn’t caught a glimpse in Galicia of the duende that attracted me to Spain in the first place. That spry little gnome-spirit led me on her chorizo-laden trail, then slacked off .. just so slightly out of reach …

But it’s not every day a duende clues you in like that – Who would I be to give up looking after only eight measly months? I wouldn’t be Uncle Jesse, that’s who.

Turns out I just had to look to the South to find mine – to Andalucía. To Aracena.

Here, I work with people who invite my weird California slang and pumpkin pie recipes. My students, too, are just as eager to learn and share, and I’m fortunate to call them my friends. Best of all, I get to pass on the wisdom of my Spanish teacher: it’s now my turn to lead the random forum of language-learners, to show the fun in speaking and stumbling around English together.

Call me drunk on ham and Andalu hospitality, but I actually love my job.

As for the rain? Well, I can count on two hands the number of days it’s rained in Aracena. This unusual dry spell is the talk of the pueblo. I would celebrate my great weather karma, except that this rural agriculture community I adore needs the rain for ham .. business.

Today, it finally came. I’m looking out onto a grey, dank sky, remembering my time in rainy Vigo – how different it was, how different I am. I put on the boots I bought there last year and head out, glad – READY – for the splash underfoot. Bring on the rain, Spain! This year, I came armed with wool socks. And I learned where my duende lives.

Immersion: 8 girls, 2 volcanoes, 1 week

When you hear the word immersion what comes to mind? A dip in the pool of culture? A cannonball in the lake of language? A chance to “go native?” Immersion is one of many buzzwords in education abroad today. It wiggled its way into the rhetoric, and even debuted in Sh*t Study Abroad Students say. So what does it mean?

In a workshop last spring Michael Vande Berg, Vice President for Academic Affairs at the Council on International Educational Exchange (CIEE), made an obvious statement and a true one, immersion is interactive. More buzz words, right? Wrong.

Immersion, like tango, takes two.

Both student and host culture are involved, working toward a common goal – be it language acquisition, cultural awareness or a better understanding of one another.

I have a strong dislike for the phrase “go native.” For me it conjures up images of ornery expats holding court in a local restaurant or Jersey Shore deviants buying grass skirts at the market. Don’t “go native.” Just go. Go with an open mind, a good attitude and a flexible agenda. Go with your eyes open, and respect as your guide. Go with questions in mind, camera in hand and come home with new knowledge. Plan to share all three when you return.

map courtesy of Lonely Planet

Next Sunday I will not only spring forward, I will head south to Central America into 90 degree heat, sunshine, and Spanish. I am leading a group of 8 female students to Granada, Nicaragua for spring break. These women are challenging themselves to improve their Spanish outside of the classroom.

As a customized faculty-led program, it boasts many of the comfort factors which make this and programs like it the #1 study abroad choice at my university. Four reasons stand out: 1) short-term program, 2) group travel, 3) scheduled activities, 4) leader familiarity. Our students consistently choose programs that are short (2 to 4 weeks), led by a faculty or staff member they know, with an itinerary followed by the entire group. They will travel together, lodge together and often complete coursework together at each stage of the program.

But WAIT, you may argue … I thought the point of study abroad was to get outside of your comfort zone?

courtesy of wikipedia

Yes, I agree. But some people prefer to test the water before jumping right in. Can you blame them?

I point to psychologist Abraham Maslow for research on this. He is well known for his work on human motivation, and the “Hierachy of Needs.” Although his theory was first penned in 1943, his points hold true today. Maslow believes that in order for individuals to truly gain from their experiences, they must first have basic physiological needs satisfied. Can you breathe? Do you have access to food, water and shelter? The next step is safety, a key factor in study abroad: security of body, mind, health, resources, finances, etc. It is here students must confirm their feelings of safety (and comfort) before moving up the pyramid to self-actualization. This is what comfort looks like, and it doesn’t look the same for everyone.

Does this one week program qualify as an immersion experience? Yes. My students will be living with host families while we’re on the ground, a huge bonus for their language acquisition. Not only will they be tested in the classroom, but also in the home, where communicating for those basic human needs like food and water will be necessary. We will also be spending our afternoons zip-lining through the rainforest, climbing volcanoes, exploring bat caves and attending a local festival. Our last day will be spent on the beach, where we will focus on immersion in the Pacific Ocean.

Much of our data shows that students returning from a short-term experience will often come back for more. This continuous travel broadens their perspective, and helps them establish their place in the world. They become ambassadors and travelaholics, like so many of their advisors (myself included).

It is not a trip. It is not a tour. It is an experience. And I think we’re going to have a damn good time!

what does it mean to be well-traveled?

Many of the readers that find their way to these pages love to travel. I think “loving travel” can mean different things to different people. Susan loves to travel – being able to get in the car and go for a Sunday drive is the best feeling in the world. David loves to travel – he packs a backpack and takes off for the mountains, he has made a goal to climb a different mountain every summer. Rachel loves to travel – she signed up to study abroad for a semester at university in Avignon, France.

source: dictionary.com

The point is, there are many types of travel. Travel is the act of going from one place to another .. but how far / how long / how often do you have to go to qualify to be well-traveled? Is it like airline miles? The more you have the more elite your status. Is there a fiscal tie-in? The more you spend or scoring the cheapest deal wins you the heavyweight belt. I don’t think so.

I would argue that the degree of your well-traveled-ness is not measured by the number of stamps in your passport. Just because you’ve been to 12 countries and I’ve been to 10 doesn’t mean you are more well-traveled than I am. Being well-traveled is a state of mind. What did you accomplish when you set out on your travels today? Maybe you found a new place to call home, or maybe you simply made it home after a trip. You’re traveling, either way.

For example. I’m an American, born and raised in the great Northeast in these United States. I’ve seen the Northeast, no problem. One of my best friends lives in Texas, so I’ve been there. Furthest west? Arizona. Furthest south? Florida. Furthest north? Maine. But do you know I’ve only seen 18 states? That’s nothing! One of the highlights of moving to the Midwest is a chance to see all of these places I’ve never been before. It’s a funny feeling to be sitting in a café in Vienna when a random stranger finds out you are from America and raves about a) the Grand Canyon, b) Yellowstone, c) California and I’ve never been to any of them!

Language acquisition and immersion are big buzz words in the field of study abroad. I was part of a spectacular workshop this past spring in Madrid and we talked about what immersion really is. You can’t put a person in a foreign country and call that immersion. The person needs some sort of interaction with the place, via it’s people, it’s culture. This can be related to language acquisition, as it was in my case. My host family in Spain? Zero English ability. My Spanish? Improved in a big way, and in a hurry. This is immersion at it’s finest – when your surroundings demand your attention.

So what am I saying? You can travel by car, by plane, or from your couch. The brightest and best souvenir you bring home from any voyage, trip or expedition is .. knowledge. About yourself, about your surroundings, about others. It doesn’t matter if you are an inch or a mile out or your comfort zone. Just go!

Revisiting: Israel

Where: Israel (Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Dead Sea, Ein Gedi, Masada)

When: June 2010

How: direct flight JFK to Tel Aviv (my longest flight time to date = 12 hours TLV to JFK)

Duration: one week

Accommodations: in a flat with friends in Tel Aviv suburb Ramat Hasharon

Language: Hebrew is the official language; English is widely spoken. This is the first place I realized that sometimes, I will not be able to read the signs or even guess as to what they say, courtesy of the Hebrew alphabet.

Fortress of Masada

Currency: New Israeli Shekel

Tourist facts: According to my arsenal of guidebooks and Wikipedia, Masada is one of the most highly trafficked tourist sites in Israel. According to history, Masada was a fortress built by/for King Herod and later the site of the last stand made by Jewish rebels against the Romans. This fortress has been perched in the Israeli desert overlooking the Dead Sea for over 2,000 Years.

An important note on weekend travel in Israel. The country observes the Jewish religion and therefore the weekend starts on Friday instead of Saturday. Friday is shabbat and traditionally this means NO work. This includes taxi drivers! Your cab fare can sometimes double when driving on shabbat, so please be mindful of your travel days.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Not religious? No problem. Even though many tourists make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, there is so much more to this vibrant culture. I myself am agnostic and I find it fascinating to be in a holy place and watch how others express their faith, or react to artifacts and stories from the history of their religion.

Links I recommend during trip planning:

Fodor’s Israel 2010 gave me insights to a country I knew absolutely nothing about. Once again, I am very fortunate to have Israeli friends who were more than willing to plan my trip and answer my every question. As my host was studying madly for his exams during the day, I took advantage of two organized tours courtesy of United Tours. Not typically a guided tour girl, I was pleased with both of these, although I did wish for more time in Jerusalem and at Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum.

My absolutes: Old City. Western Wall. Dead Sea.

off to the market

What I saw: In the same Old City street, you can see an Orthodox Jew dressed in black with a hat and curls for sideburns, and a college co-ed in flipflops and a tank top. A large cemetery visible from the Mount of Olives, bright white with black-clad mourners walking between the waist high tombs, placing pebbles for remembrance. Driving through the Judean desert, seeing Bedouins living in the hot hills, and camels camouflaged by the sand. A view of Petra, Jordan, while floating in the Dead Sea next to elderly locals reading their newspapers.

What I did: Day One w/ United Tours: Jerusalem, Mount of Olives, Yad Veshem. Driving from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, our guide tells us that there are 800,000 people living in Jerusalem. This is made obvious by the sprawl of the city, and the traffic. The view from the Mount of Olives is magnificent, the Western Wall is powerful and Via Dolorosa is packed with tourists. Yad Veshem (Holocaust museum) deserves far more time than we gave it – I would easily spend half a day in the museum on a return trip.

Day Two w/ United Tours: Masada and Ein Gedi (spa at the Dead Sea). Masada was stunning early in the morning, ahead of the hordes of tourists. For the record, I took the cable car to the top – you will never see me take the Snake Path on the face of the mountain. Ein Gedi smells like a rotten egg! The sulfur showers are to blame, but if you can get past the smell, it’s one of the most relaxing places on earth. The Dead Sea is 37% salt – let this be a lesson that you should not shave before swimming OR open your eyes under water. I spent a long time floating around under the thatched roofs escaping from the sun and trying various salt water acrobatics. Cover yourself in mud, bake in the sun, and rejuvenate.

Western Wall

What I ate: Shakshuka at Benedict in Tel Aviv – an egg dish to die for at a hopping breakfast spot. Gelato from Anita Café (La Mama del Gelato), a perfect precursor to the beach. Outrageous fish dinner at Reviva & Celia. Wine, wine, wine. Israeli wine is to die for – Pelter is one of my favorites.

If (when) I return I will: wander the Old City at my leisure; return with a rabbi; eat more falafel; ship wine home.

Sorry I missed: the wine country in the north (Golan Heights).

Thanks to: Eyal & family for inviting me into their home for shabbat. Reut for taking me out on the town. Ayelet for having a lovely reunion dinner in her flat. Rotem for showing me the “real” Tel Aviv. Skip, the nice American guy who spent the day with me touring Masada and the Dead Sea. The security guy at the airport who stopped me from removing my shoes; “this is not America!” Ilan, the gorgeous Israeli who (1) gave up his seat for an old lady, (2) entertained the 18 month old next to us on the plane and (3) waited for me after baggage claim, bought my train ticket and made sure I got where I needed to go. תודה!

floating in the Dead Sea

See the original post(s) here:
An Old Place & A Salty One
A Day in Jerusalem

Now, you: Have you traveled to a religious destination? What did you think? Have you traveled to a place for it’s medicinal claims? Where?