English Classes

Ngam* and I exchanged amused glances as my sons reached for yet another spring roll.

This was the third English language class for my husband and me, but the first for the kids. Previously, the kids had all stayed home with the oldest acting as babysitter. This week, a confluence of events compelled the kids to come to our language class despite their general desires. They could either stay home and miss out on going out for supper with their Uncle or they could go out for supper with him and come along to language classes. Even for the oldest who has been waiting for an opportunity to stay home alone, making the decision was a fairly brief struggle.

Through a church connection, my husband had come into this voluntary position of English teacher. He had wheedled me into coming the first time, believing that if he could get me there once, I would want to keep coming of my own volition after that. He was right.

Though we only drive half an hour down the road, it is a little bit like entering a different world. Our students are all immigrants from Thailand or Laos. They do understand some English but mostly they communicate with each other in Thai. The first time we were there, they were all awaiting us, sitting on the floor or low stools. My husband and I were the only ones sitting on any of the three couches in the room. The next time we sat on the floor too. I wondered on the way home whether we had committed a social or cultural faux-pas in doing so. They never said so we came back the next week.

Each week we try to help this group expand their vocabulary and improve their pronunciation of English words and struggle to explain the ridiculous intricacies of English grammar. Each week, I marvel at the bravery of anyone who attempts to learn English as an additional language. It is truly craziness – and this coming from a person who loves words and has a penchant for correct grammar.

In return, this small group of people expands our world. They grow our empathy for people who have a different life experience than ours, they share the difficulties and humour of learning a new language – there is a lot of laughter that goes on in these classes, and they feed us interesting food. Last week they gave us tamarinds and sticky rice to try. There were fresh and dried tamarinds. Neither my husband nor I had ever eaten, or even seen these before and the group seemed to derive a certain amount of pleasure from watching us try to figure out how to gracefully eat them and dispose of the seeds that we were explicitly told not to eat.

My favourite part of the class, however, happens close to the end. This is when they teach us a word or phrase in Thai. I love when the tables are turned and the students become the teachers and the teachers become the students. When who is in their element and who is tentative about their pronunciation switches. I love being able to practice my newly acquired Thai greeting with these people in church or when we arrive at or leave language classes. I can feel all my synapses zinging with information as they form new pathways in my brain. I love this learning.

This is what the kids discovered this week. They hadn't really wanted to come. They had brought a tablet along to watch a movie while the class was going on, but space limitations required that they stay in the room and be quiet. And so they listened and learned and ate delicious spring rolls. They even practised saying thank you and good bye in Thai.

On the way home, the boys enthused about their new experience (the youngest fell right to sleep). They remarked on how interesting the whole evening was, on what they had learned and on how surprised they were at how difficult a language English is for non-native speakers.

“It was really interesting,” said our second boy, “but I was kind of shaking the whole time. Why is that?” A lengthy explanation from his mother ensued of how the excitement and tension of new and unusual learning experiences can cause physical reactions.

I asked the oldest if he figured he had had a better time here at language class than if he had stayed at home by himself. “Probably,” he conceded. This warmed my mother- and teacher- heart. And was a good reminder for me. Sometimes it is the very things you wouldn't have chosen to do are the things that teach you the most valuable lessons: empathy, compassion, connection, delight in the sharing of human experience. Now if only all such lessons were as pleasant as a warm, home-made spring roll!

I am the Lord your God

who brought you up out of Egypt.

Open wide your mouth and I will fill it.

Psalm 81:10

*Name changed to protect the innocent.  Means pretty/beautiful in Thai, according to the Internet.