I began teaching English as a Second Language at a local college about twenty years ago. In that time, I have learned so much from my students—from the profound, such as different cultural beliefs about the afterlife, to the practical, such as how to count to ten using only one hand. But as I sit here in Quarantine 2020, bombarded on all sides by social media pandemic “experts,” I am reminded of an important lesson learned early in my ESL teaching career, one that drove home the truth of the adage that “a little knowledge is dangerous.”
ESL classrooms are designed to be mini-immersion experiences, with English being the only language spoken regardless of the first languages of the students. ESL teachers aren’t required to have foreign language skills and, in fact, to keep the playing field level for all learners, teachers cannot “cheat” by sneaking in an explanation in another language in class. A teacher’s foreign language skills can, however, come in quite handy for out-of-class communication between student and teacher, as I learned the hard way.
My ESL classes are usually a mix of students from around the globe, but one of my first classes was composed entirely of Spanish speakers. I was not tempted to “cheat” by speaking Spanish in class because, while I was pretty conversant in French and Italian, I knew next to nada in Español. I had never studied Spanish unless my childhood penchant for Speedy Gonzalez cartoons counted as online learning.
Before class started on the first day, one woman approached me with great urgency in her voice. “Teacher,” she said, “me, me, me…” She shook her head in frustration at her inability to communicate what was clearly an important message. She resorted to a kind of pantomime, doing an imitation of “let your fingers do the walking,” while vigorously shaking her head “no” and repeating “mañana.” We both nearly jumped up and down with joy when I correctly surmised she was not coming to class the next day.
“That’s okay,” I assured her, but she continued, desperately wanting to give me a fuller explanation. After “me no come,” she lapsed into very fast Spanish and try as I might, I could not make heads nor tails of it. That is, until I noticed she seemed to be clutching at her throat as she spoke and would, every few words, pause and repeat what sounded to me like “tonsils.”
“Aha!” I exclaimed, thrilled with what I thought was my sudden flash of linguistic brilliance. “You have a problem with your tonsils and are going to the doctor tomorrow. Wow, I was so proud of myself for picking up Spanish so fast. Who’s the speedy one in now, Señor Gonzalez? I silently gloated.
Of course, I completely dismissed the fact that my student seemed confused when I mimed feeling pain in the throat or a feverish forehead, but I figured she was just stunned that I had learned Spanish so easily.
The next class, minus the student who was presumably at the doctor tending to her bad tonsils, went well. At break, the students were gathered at a table having coffee and chatting. I tried to eavesdrop to hone my new-found Spanish skills. The only word I could pick out, which was sprinkled liberally throughout their conversations, was “tonsils.” How odd, I thought, they’re all talking about their tonsils. Good grief, is there a tonsillitis epidemic I hadn’t heard about, I wondered.
Or, could it possibly be that “tonsils” didn’t mean what I thought it did, that just perhaps I was not the instant Spanish-speaking genius I had fancied myself to be?
Yup, as it turned out, what I understood as “tonsils” was actually “entonces,” which means, “so/then,” in Spanish. There was not a bad set of tonsils among the group. So much for my expertise.
Entonces, I share this humiliating episode with you now as a cautionary tale. The terrifying COVID pandemic, combined with easy social media access, has given rise to all manner of “experts,” from the naïve and misinformed to outright quacks and snake oil salesmen. This virus is so new that scientists are discovering bits and pieces of new information about it every day. If it has largely confounded the world’s top health professionals, it’s unlikely that Sally, the Youtube macramé queen with 2 million views, has the secret cure. Be careful who you believe and whose advice you follow, especially now. All of our lives depend on it.
And one more thing, if you’re thinking about using this lockdown time to learn Spanish, maybe give a program like Rosetta Stone or Babbel a try or even marry a Colombian as I eventually did. But forget about Speedy Gonzalez because last I heard a bad case of tonsillitis had taken him out of the teaching game for good.