And Gladly Wolde He Lerne, And Gladly Teche

The English language and I have always been pretty good pals. I remember the heady rush of being the only one in class allowed to take out school library books that weren't from the Easy Read section. I remember reading 35 extra books in Grade 9 for bonus marks. (Surprisingly enough, *not* my geekiest moment - I believe that would be the model Globe Theatre I constructed lovingly out of cardboard, complete with trapdoor for Banquo's ghost.) I remember ditching my long-crafted public school teacher plans and jumping aboard the life raft of an Arts degree.

The various manifestations of my professional life have directly involved the English language. The only tattoo I've ever wanted has been a piece of punctuation. Basically, I can't imagine a world in which I wasn't swimming in English all day long.

Of course, a world not filled with serial commas and correct uses of "i.e." *does* exist, and I find myself very uncomfortable when I take a wrong turn and end up there. I hate that part of family gatherings where someone tosses in a Low German phrase and I am Left Out of the Joke. I felt naked and exposed in Paris - out of my element and stripped of my facility with communication.

I'm equally uncomfortable around others who struggle with English. Not the use-"myself"-erroneously-as-an-object type of struggle (stop it people - it's a reflexive pronoun!), but those whose experience with English is so small - or even non-existent - that rudimentary communication requires tremendous effort and elicits wrenching frustration on both of our parts.

So I'm being very, very selfish. I just came back from my first class teaching English as a second language. This might seem like a very Helpful Thing To Do, and I definitely see this as my very small contribution to an ailing world. But, full disclosure here - I'm also doing it so I can get past the squirmy feeling I get when I speak with someone who struggles to speak English.

I have the utmost respect for people who leave behind family and friends and move to a foreign country. (Yes, I say, it's d*mn hard some days!) But to leave behind language - that's not something I think I could do. And then to go to an ESL class and check my pride at the door and look pleadingly into the eyes of my not-understanding instructor while knowing *exactly* what I want to say in my own language because I have a Master's of Chemistry, for goodness sake...I do not possess that level of courage.

Yet somehow, I get uncomfortable. I know these students are probably 18 times smarter than I am, yet I can't get my voice to sound any less condescending. I know it's respectful to speak slowly, but I can't stop feeling like I'm being patronizing. I know that willingness to admit that I don't know much about their home countries is being honest, but I can't help feeling like a total ignorant boor.

So I've signed up, and there's going to be some serious learning going on every Monday night. And hopefully my students get something out of it, too.