Conquering the Monster: Overcoming the Fear of Communicating in a Foreign Language

“Thinking will not overcome fear but action will.”  – W. Clement Stone

I’m scared of Math. It’s a deep, visceral fear, that triggers automatically whenever I’m confronted with the need for rapid and public calculations, and it’s held me back on numerous occasions. Are you familiar with the image of a deer unable to move, even to save its own life, as headlights rapidly approach? Perhaps you can relate with a fear of your own?

Fear paralyses us and stops us from accomplishing our goals, from communicating with those around us, and from experiencing life at its fullest. It may eventually take over our lives, limiting our sphere of movement to such a degree that we pull back, retreating into our shell and becoming an incomplete and frustrated version of ourselves.

On a par with Mathematics is the fear of communicating in a foreign language. Over the years, I’ve heard enough stories from my students of their horrific experiences with language-learning to realise that this fear exists in many people who seek support in improving their foreign language skills.  I believe the primary source of this terror lies in negative or traumatic experiences with past teachers, who were either incompetent themselves, or who delighted in torturing their students with ridicule and an abusive red pen. Success in many parts of the world is equated with high marks, which imply the absence of mistakes and the faithful regurgitation of the information supplied by the teacher. But language is alive, in constant evolution, and a beautiful, creative act. It cannot be imprisoned by a wall of conjugations and syntax. 

The natural consequence of this dreadful habit of punishing mistakes is that learners of a language live in constant fear of being ridiculed by their instructors as well as their peers unless their grammar skills are perfect and vocabulary beyond reproach. In persons who tend towards a natural reserve or feelings of insecurity, and for whom spoken communication is difficult, even in their own language, this devastating cocktail of terrors has the power of shutting them down completely. 

The quote that introduces this article encourages us to overcome our fears by taking action rather than by thinking and obsessing over the fear itself; indeed, I’m convinced there is a series of actions we can take to conquer our insecurities as we strive for more effective, stress-free communication.

The very first point concerns ourselves, dear Teachers, and the atmosphere we create around us.  Do our classrooms provide a safe learning space, where the individual is supported and respected, where mistakes are welcomed as experiments and the class works together as a group on their voyage of experience and discovery into the new language? Do we respect the learning pace of individual participants, knowing that each person must find his or her own way into the language? Do we offer a sufficient variety of activities and stimuli within the lesson, so that each person may fully benefit? Do we encourage and support discussion, both in small groups and in plenum, so that authentic communication is practiced from the earliest phases of learning? These are all questions I am fully conscious of in my own practice, knowing that I am not yet capable of implementing them fully at all times, limited as I am by own shortcomings as well as syllabi, marks, and other bureaucratic limitations. But I can, and I do, strive towards this goal. 

What actions can we, as learners, take to move beyond the fear of using a new language? The first point is to take stock of where we are now, at present, and use whatever tools in our possession to communicate, whether it is to address an audience at a conference or simply to order pizza and beer at an Italian restaurant. It is useless and discouraging to withhold our words and fantasise about a future perfection which we may very well never reach. 

Speaking of perfection, it is time to clear up once and for all that perfection in communication is unattainable and preposterous, even in our own mother tongue; misunderstandings, assumptions, and a lack of clarity accompany the messages people exchange every day. This ambiguity is what  keeps our conversations alive and expresses our delightfully imperfect humanity.

Just like in sports, fluency is a result of practice, and not its prerequisite! A serious commitment to practice is fundamental to gain fluency and overcome insecurity, and this may take on many forms, such as enrolling in a language course, finding a tandem partner, travelling abroad and being obliged to survive on one’s limited language skills, or – don’t laugh – dating someone who speaks the language we are struggling to learn. This last point should not be underestimated: when we are in a relationship, we will (hopefully) soon tire of whispering “Je t’aime” into his or her ear and seek communication at a deeper level, thus quickly developing fluency and a feel for the nuances of the language.

And finally, there’s the “back-door” approach to familiarising oneself with a new language: if the idea of spending 4 hours a week of precious free time cooped up in a language course doesn’t sound too attractive, we can explore the culture, history, art, music, cuisine, sports, or whatever else surrounds the language we fear and slowly start experiencing it indirectly. Eventually, we will find ourselves singing along to Ed Sheeran’s lyrics fluently and ordering “Orecchiette alle cime di rapa” (Italian ear-shaped pasta with turnip greens, a specialty from Apulia) without a care in the world. 

Let’s never forget that language is a mere tool that facilitates communication, not an end to itself. Perfect grammar and an encyclopaedic vocabulary, without the self-confidence to speak, will have rendered all our study and memorisation useless.

So here it is, my own imperfect contribution to the discussion about fear as it relates to language learning. I believe there’s a need for a conversation about this issue that blocks us all from time to time and look forward to continuing our conversation in the comments below.  My Math inadequacy has fortunately not held me back all that much, as I chose a career far removed from the realm of calculus and algebraic expression, but it remains a small, private kernel that feeds my feelings of insecurity. 

And now please excuse me while I go and work on my times tables. 

P.S. If you are interested in reading about overcoming fear from a very different perspective, Alex and Bo, respectively my sister and brother-in-law, own and manage a skydiving center in Wisconsin, USA. On their website, there’s a very interesting article on overcoming fear as it relates to skydiving. Fear is fear, whether it’s mathematics or skydiving. 

Top Fears In Skydiving & How To Overcome Them

New beginnings

“Change is hard at first, messy in the middle, and gorgeous at the end” – Robin Sharma

After months of work and a generous dose of procrastination, my new website is finally launching, as well as this companion blog.

The desire to write has been with me for years, though my ideas on the subject were rather vague: I knew I’d write about languages and culture, but I also imagined occasional interventions to clarify or “fix” grammar bugs and suggest answers to technical questions related to language learning, essentially the questions my students bring to class. But more than anything, I wanted to provide a space which encouraged an active and informal exchange of ideas between educators, students, and plain old language geeks.

So here I am, writing my first entry, the way forward no clearer than it was months ago, trusting that along the way, I’ll figure out where I’m going: I’m also hoping for your suggestions, requests, ideas, and feedback to provide the proverbial breadcrumbs that’ll keep me on the right path, your presence accompanying me all the way.

I’ve learned that it’s never too late for a new start if you’re willing and able to think beyond the familiar rhythm of your life. Maybe just a small tweak will be sufficient to get you out of bed with new enthusiasm every morning. Or perhaps it’s time for a major overhaul in one or more areas of your life. I know that I can pinpoint the beginning of all my changes to one day, as I was sitting, writing lists on a piece of flowery notepaper. I was weary of my regular teaching, which had started to feel repetitive, and worried that my lack of enthusiasm might start to transpire.

So I made a list entitled “What I Can Offer”, and included any idea that came to mind. Some were sensible, like “English for Specific Purposes” or “Fluency Training” ; others were a bit more random: “Italian Vegetarian Cooking in English for Japanese ladies”. How about that for a unique intercultural experience? Needless to say, that particular course never made the final cut.

So I slowly worked on making change happen. I spoke to everyone who’d listen and gathered advice, often discordant, which needed to be sorted through. And then I began putting my plans into action, not sensibly, one at a time, but the whole lot at once, to the point that I’ve spent the last year feeling completely overwhelmed by half-finished projects competing for my time and attention and keeping me awake at night.

But gradually, pieces are falling into place and some of the fog has cleared from the path ahead. And along with the fog, a lot of the uncertainty is dissipating as well: there is a path ahead, change is possible even later on in one’s working life! And the added bonus is that the familiar, well-oiled courses which no longer gave me the same satisfaction have now reacquired their spark as new enthusiasm and strategies accompany me.

I’m looking forward to enjoying the “gorgeous” phase of change promised by Robin Sharma in his quote above, and I hope you’ll be there to share it with me.

Welcome to us all!