Some travel destinations sound really exotic. For me, simply hearing the names Kathmandu, Machu Picchu or Addis Ababa brings to mind the mystery and adventure of going abroad. So I was thrilled several years ago to have the chance to visit Marrakesh, in Morocco – just such a place.
In the ancient city center there you will find the medina—the jumbled, twisting bazaar district where Berbers and Arabs in hand-made sandals sell everything from dried figs to henna tattoos. I wandered through alleys and squares, stopping for tea in shops selling carpets and leather jackets. I bought dried apricots and fresh juice. It was a maze full of exotic sights and sounds.
But then I got lost.
I wasn't too worried. In Morocco I had little trouble communicating. French, which I had spent two years studying, is widely spoken. All I needed to do was ask for directions back to the square where I had begun the day—just nearby the hotel where I was staying. My travel companion had wisely thought of this strategy.
But somehow I couldn't remember the name of the square. I had repeated it several times just to be sure I didn't forget, but neither of us had written it down.
"What's the name of the square?" she asked me.
"Ummm, It's . . . "
"You don't remember." she said.
"Ummmm, no. But you do, don't you?" I said.
"Of course I do" she said, "It's Djamaa El Fna. How could you forget?"
"I guess my memory isn't that good."
"That's weird. You are a language teacher. How did you ever learn foreign languages if you can't even remember a single word?" she said.
What my friend said is true. I often do have a poor memory in situations like this. In spite of that, though, I have learned foreign languages. What I've realized is that each of us learns differently, and that we have to take advantage of our particular strengths.
In my case, I have trouble learning things in isolation—memorizing vocabulary lists, remembering my flight number or the name of someone I just met. Yet when I learn something in a natural context—a new word during a conversation, for example—I remember easily and am good at understanding its nuance. It's as though I learn with my whole body. Also, I learn better by listening rather than by seeing. Some people must write things down to remember them, but I have to hear them.
When I started studying French (I was already in my late 30s!) I built my study plan around my strengths, instead of feeling sorry for my weaknesses. Rather than making vocabulary lists, I listened to dialogues and followed along in the book. I let my ears do the work, rather than my eyes.
I avoided memorization. I didn't try to learn, for example, all the days of the week at once. Instead, if the word lundi (Monday) came up in a dialogue, I learned that and didn't force myself to learn the other days. My vocabulary learning was less systematic, but I often remembered more "advanced" words that caught my attention.
To take advantage of my intuitive learning style, I found materials with French dialogues on the left page and English translations on the right. I didn't need to rely on vocabulary lists and could visualize the situations. I remember things better when they are connected to people and interactions.
Of course I still felt frustrated with my progress. Learning a language is difficult for everyone, and I struggled. But understanding my own learning style and planning my studies helped me feel more in control. If I felt bored or stuck I changed my study plan. This helped me avoid feeling powerless and giving up.
Learning a language often feels like being lost in a maze. We know that there is a goal but we can't see how to get there. But getting lost is the only way to truly see new places. We simply have to enjoy the adventure and trust that somehow we'll find a way to our goal—and eventually make it to Djamaa El Fna square! |
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