“I
bet people just shake their heads when they look at us.”
This
is what my
wife Christy tossed out at me this morning as we were getting ready to
go to
work. She was talking about the normal morning chaos. In our case this
chaos ripples back and forth in English, Spanish and Haitian Creole.
English and Spanish with the kids, and occasional Creole between the two of us. We’ve been raising our kids bilingually as non-native
speakers, and we’ve been doing this for a decade and a half.
l blame Raúl and Ondine.
We
met Raúl and Ondine in Texas. Raúl was from Mexico and Ondine hailed
from Switzerland, and they were raising their kids in a house full of
flurries of French, Spanish and English. As new parents, we thought this
was pretty awesome. I had learned Spanish in high school/university. My
wife spoke Haitian Creole and understood quite a bit of French. What
about us? Could we provide a linguistically rich environment as well for
our kids?
So we grilled R & O on how they managed it. We
wanted details! The nuts and bolts. Their advice? Have each parent speak exclusively in one language. In other words,
have one parent only use one language with the kids, and have the other
parent only use the other language. Raul spoke to his kids in Spanish,
Ondine spoke to them in French, and the good ‘ole USA taught ‘em
English.
Our twin boys were 3 months old when we decided our
house would be an English/Spanish household. All I can say is that it
made sense at the time. We lived in Texas, many of our close friends
were Spanish-speaking and we wanted our kids to be able to see culture
from multiple perspectives. Christy would handle the English side of
things and I would only speak to them in Spanish. We both thought I knew
Spanish “well enough”.
Let me just say that new parents rarely ever understand what they're signing up for.
I
had a yeoman’s knowledge of Spanish at the time. I
could talk with just about any Spanish speaker I met, regardless of area
or accent, and have superficial discussions about the things you do
when you bump into somebody. I should be able to just use Spanish at
home, right? Wrong. I quickly found out that raising kids in L2 is not
AT ALL like having a polite, no-worries conversation in the street with
someone you just met.
Babies and kids
require jargon I hadn't learned from textbooks, news articles or pop
songs. How do you talk about
the five-second rule for a dropped binkie, whose onesie it is, not
taking off nasty diapers, about eating food and not painting walls with
it, about tantrums and timeouts and petting cats, all in a language
never learned at your mother’s knee? My Spanish-speaking friends
gave us lots of help with the “right” things to say, but I had to commit
to buckling
down to stay ahead of the kids, which was tough when it would have
have been SOOOO easy to slip back into English.
I also went
through a period of linguistic mourning. Our kids would experience
something for the first time and something I’d heard my parents say
would leap to my
lips...and stop. I swallowed every rich linguistic tidbit absorbed from
my parents simply because it was in
English. All the corny, colloquial English that I loved from my family I
held in and didn't pass on. And as I mourned, I learned to trust that my
wife would pass her beautiful English on to our kids, while I stumbled
around trying to show all my love to my own flesh and blood in a
language not my own. I felt like a linguistic immigrant in my own home.
There
were many times I asked myself if it was worth it. Christy assured me
it was. Was the richness our kids gained living in a multilingual
household worth the effort it took? Were the cross-cultural friendships
and connections worth the dedication?
I'll leave the
countless experiences, friendships and growth our kids have had because
of their multilingual upbringing for another blog.
I can report
that the mourning is over. That language once "not our own" is one that
shares the same dignity and pride of place in our home as does English.
The flurries of language that flow through our household are
interspersed with and punctuated by all the giggles, outbursts,
exclamations and expressions of love that we could have ever hoped for.
Sometimes, I look at us and shake my head too.