In partial fulfillment for the requirements of the course “Principles of Clear Writing I” mentored by Ms. Shaké Majarian, I authored a text that began with the sentence “I love being a polyglot”. And I truly do. As a matter of fact, my name became synonymous with “polyglot” almost a decade ago, when I started to drift away from the typical 3-language combination to which, as Lebanese, we are accustomed. Many reasons pushed me to lingo learning, the most prevalent one being my “diverse” background which led me to an exposure to different tongues; I am quite convinced I was meant to be a polyglot, albeit being the only one in my family.
The numerous benefits of being a polyglot are undeniable: advantage in travel, in-depth cultural understanding, cognitive flexibility and, from a superficial point of view, a valuable add to one’s résumé, and many more. If you are holding your breath for the “however”, then here it comes: However, just like Yin and Yang, pros and cons come in tandem, and polyglotism is of no exception. Despite my passion for this journey that I willingly ventured into, I cannot keep sugarcoating it for too long otherwise I would be untruthful to others, and above all, to myself.
In case I left you cooling your heels regarding the languages I (probably) speak: I grew up bilingual, with Arabic as my first language and Spanish as my second. Of course, I learned French and English at school, with the latter being my forte thanks to the amount of time I spent watching TV programs (to which most of us probably relate). As a teenager I decided to go headlong in Russian and a while later, in Italian. As for now, I am currently taking courses in Modern Greek – an opportunity I am thankful for as I grew tired of recycled, self-didactic methods following an arduous decade-long fluency pursuit. In sum, they are seven – a number often associated with perfection (is this some sign? Beats me).
Am I proud of embarking on such a challenging journey? Yes. Do I regret it? Sometimes, yes.
To clarify, I don’t regret learning any of the above-mentioned tongues. What I regret is not knowing any better when I committed myself to this hectic process. These languages have witnessed my ebb and flow in maintaining consistency; for example, when I get asked, “Do you speak Russian?” I find myself hesitating between “yes,” “no,” and “so-so”. I don’t even know my own level—caught between A2 and B1, I am too advanced for A2 but not strong enough for B1. Russophones I’ve interacted with might understand what I mean, as they often reassure me with kind words like, “но ты отлычно говоришь по-русски!” (“but you speak Russian so well!”), which I usually politely deny.
One of the main challenges of polyglotism is the constant need to maintain every language so as not to lose any of them. Yet, ironically, I feel like I’m losing my primary and secondary languages. Too much focus on Russian weakens my Greek, while too much Italian erodes my Spanish, or vice versa. The balancing act is too burdensome. Managing seven languages requires a great deal of patience, a virtue I find myself losing over the years. I vividly remember the enthusiasm I had as a 14-year-old. I like to remind myself of it whenever I see it reflected in my old textbooks, adorned with color-function notes, neat handwriting, and meticulously organized information.
Another struggle, likely relatable to my fellow bilinguals and trilinguals, is code-switching. As Lebanese, we know that all too well, given that our day-to-day conversations cannot be led without at least the insertion of some English and French words here and there. My issue, however, lies with the “extra languages”, i.e. not the most commonplace among my compatriots. Some of my Italian (even Spanish) conversations, for instance, have witnessed Greek words showing up unattended; I have not even reached an A2 level in Greek yet somehow, it’s the most intrusive language – so far at least, having robbed Italian of its title, which usually sneaks into my Spanish and vice versa. I assume it is the result of Greek being the only language in which I am actively taking classes, unlike the rest, where I had to rely on my self-guiding methods, shrouded with inconsistency in terms of both commitment and learning.
And then, there’s my memory. We often hear that learning languages strengthens memory and may even help prevent Alzheimer’s. While I won’t argue against that, juggling seven languages sometimes makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. Recently, I’ve been experiencing what I can only describe as “memory glitches”; frequently used words fail to seep through my mind. I am not quite sure if my polyglotism is to blame or perhaps life per se — but what I can assure is that polyglotism, as much as I hate to admit it, is not helping me. I must also add that I feel a tremendous amount of pressure to improve my skills—a pressure I am to blame for since I set up myself to it.
Just to be clear, my intention isn’t to discourage aspiring polyglots. Languages are incredible assets— aside from the cliché truism we are always told about languages i.e. being “portals to the world”, “bridges that connect people” and the like, it is quite noteworthy that language learning can be incredibly fun, and I encourage anyone with an interest to pursue it. My only advice is to approach the journey with the right tools, seek the right guidance, and, most importantly, be consistent. Keep in mind that it is a long-term process, and that fluency is not a destination, rather, it is a journey.
If you have reached this, I wholeheartedly thank you for the time you have taken to read my reflection and for your interest in polyglotism. May this be your call for a long but worthwhile adventure.
Polyglotly yours,
Anna Maria Awad
M3-English Section