The perils and pitfalls of language learning
So recently I've started studying Italian again. Before I left on my recent trip, I used Duolingo and my old textbook (from mumble-years ago) and a great podcast called Coffee Break Italian. Since Italians are, in general, about a billion times more fluent in English than I am in Italian, I didn't actually get the chance to practice much. I told my sister that we were doing Italy on Twenty Words, but most of the words were the right one. Mostly.
So when I got back home I looked up the website I had marked about three years ago, which was of a local man who taught Italian. (The university axed its program years ago, meaning no free lessons for me as a university employee. Woe.)
I went ahead and scheduled my first lesson, and in between the scheduling and the actual attending, I discovered that the instructor, a Florentine who married an American and is now resident in Lincoln, is actually the uncle of my coworker, which was funny. He runs tours to Italy, does wine tastings, prepares meals for people who want authentic food, and also gives lessons. So I've been showing up once a week to ruthlessly slaughter grammar and pet the family's tiny excitable dog.
There is nothing as excruciating as the moment when a language instructor asks you a question and you go blank because you realize that while you know a word here and there, you didn't follow it entirely, and you have no idea how to respond...but I'm having fun anyway. It activates a different corner of my brain, and even if I never attain a level of conversational Italian, I enjoy slowly developing more facility with the language.
This entry was originally posted at http://sienamystic.dreamwidth.org/467302.html. Please comment here or there using OpenID.
So when I got back home I looked up the website I had marked about three years ago, which was of a local man who taught Italian. (The university axed its program years ago, meaning no free lessons for me as a university employee. Woe.)
I went ahead and scheduled my first lesson, and in between the scheduling and the actual attending, I discovered that the instructor, a Florentine who married an American and is now resident in Lincoln, is actually the uncle of my coworker, which was funny. He runs tours to Italy, does wine tastings, prepares meals for people who want authentic food, and also gives lessons. So I've been showing up once a week to ruthlessly slaughter grammar and pet the family's tiny excitable dog.
There is nothing as excruciating as the moment when a language instructor asks you a question and you go blank because you realize that while you know a word here and there, you didn't follow it entirely, and you have no idea how to respond...but I'm having fun anyway. It activates a different corner of my brain, and even if I never attain a level of conversational Italian, I enjoy slowly developing more facility with the language.
This entry was originally posted at http://sienamystic.dreamwidth.org/467302.html. Please comment here or there using OpenID.