Modern Hebrew and I are not BFFs. We are friends, or maybe ‘acquaintances’ is the more accurate description. I am on nodding terms with his grandfather, Biblical Hebrew, but the old man mostly acknowledges me back because he doesn’t want to embarrass me in front of everyone.
Really, it’s a pity nod.
I imagine Biblical Hebrew’s thoughts on my talents and prospects could go something like this:
“And lo, for Suzanne hath abandoned her Hebrew language studies and never did she return, and the Lord placed His hand upon the mind of the wayward Jewess who cast aside the study of His words, and rust grew within that mind.
The rust crept through her every memory of Hebrew language, a dark wildflower ever spreading throughout a nearly vacant valley.
The years passed her by, and she approached the Promised Land full of hope and she cried out in her native tongue of English, ‘Oh People of Israel! I am arrived and ready!’
But a shock came upon her as no one noticed, because she knew not the language of her People, and they would not heed her foreign speech.
She was rendered mute and starved within that land, for she was powerless to read the food labels in any store of groceries she approached.”
-Biblical Hebrew, Son of…Proto-Semitic…and…the LORD?
So that vindictive but charming old man decided to pair me up with his grandson, Modern Hebrew, and here we are on a date and facing the prospect of lifelong marriage.
Okay.
I have always liked Modern Hebrew anyway.
I can totally roll with this.
“I hear you spelled ‘erev’ with an aleph instead of an ayin on your iPhone app,” he says first. “And flunked the spelling quiz. Of the first level.”
Great.
“Alephs and ayins are mean and I don’t wish to discuss it,” I answer.
“Sure,” he said. “Be illiterate in your chosen country. That’s a good idea.”
“Hey,” I say. “I am not illiterate. I can read in five alphabets and I can write and edit almost anything in English. And I have always been an excellent speller.”
“No one cares,” he responds. “Not if you can’t read your own phone bill, genius.”
I frown. And because I prefer honesty to flattery, I realize he’s right. I make him a homemade meal of vocabulary on my dry erase wallpaper thingy in my room and he is happy. For now.
Modern Hebrew and I are getting married. Everyone is invited. In lieu of gifts, remind me to study my flashcards again.
Unless you’re about fourteen or younger, it’d be hard to absorb a language just by being around it. Our brains are different.
Especially in a place like Israel where many know English, you can fall back on habits. You can learn enough to get by, sort of.
I don’t want to do that.
The way to study a language is mostly the same from language to language. I’ve studied a good number, so I think I can vouch for that.
If there’s one secret to learning any language, it is this: work and work and work at it.
Memorize.
Flashcards.
Color coding.
Review and review and review and review and review and review.
I remember one semester at the University of Iowa when my subjects were entirely languages. I was learning Latin, Ancient Greek, Biblical Hebrew and French all at once.
The number of flashcards I made was enormous: hundreds of new vocabulary words to memorize every single week.
It was good for me. Sometimes it’s fun, being desperate.
We did not have iPhone apps back then to help us. We did not have iPhones at all. I cannot tell you how much time I would have saved if we did.
It makes me weep inside a little.
Languages are compound skills reliant upon your ability to start with a solid foundation. Until you get that right, you will always be wrong.
Then you have to learn the next level thoroughly, or for everything afterwards, you suck.
Blatantly.
Rinse and repeat with each level.
If you don’t learn something well, it will come up again and you will still get it wrong, only this time it’ll be more confusing than before.
This is the curse and beauty of language. It is structured and fascinating and complex and will drive you mad.
And sometimes that’s a very good thing.
I had to give my soul to Greek just to pass the class. Part of me is still owned by Ancient Greek. It changed me at a basic level.
The way I formed thoughts and analyzed problems and solved puzzles grew and warped within me.
I’ve never been the same since.
It hurt my brain and it thrilled me.
I am ready, Modern Hebrew.
I know you and I like you, but we have only been acquaintances since I was little.
We are changing that right now. You are going to be my best friend.
We are getting married.
And I will not be the same.
It will be painful and bewildering and scary, because I truly do not have the slightest clue how to read my future phone bill. I might be able to pick out 10% of the words if I’m lucky.
But I’m not going to complain about that. Nope. I’ll just learn to read it.
Modern Hebrew, you don’t have to wear a tuxedo to the wedding. You don’t have to throw a party. You don’t have to get me a gift. Just hold my hand and I’ll be fine, because we are in this together now.
