This Olympic season has had me thinking about goals and achievement, and I got to thinking about my goals with the Russian language. People have often asked me why I study Russian, and, honestly, I have only rarely articulated my goals--mainly because I wasn't exactly sure of them. I've always enjoyed studying Russian, and that was enough. I'm not one to set a numerical or time goal on something like the study of a language. As long as it's fun, I'll keep at it. That's been my story with Russian. I can confidently call myself fluent in Russian; of course there are words I don't know, and I make mistakes from time to time, but I'm at a level where I can freely converse with anyone about any topic.
I've been having a bit of angst lately about my study of Russian. I get three hours of Russian language classes each week. Those hours, however, are the worst hours of my week. I get virtually nothing of benefit from my classes, and there are a number of reasons for that, the biggest of which being a mismatch in goals between my teacher and I. My teacher is a very nice lady who is passionate about Russian literature and lives in a world where Pushkin-style language is still used. She is totally out of touch with modern slang and cringes at the very notion of a swear word. I, on the other hand, love the slangy recesses of the Russian language and don't have much interest in 150-year-old literature. That mismatch makes for some pretty painfully boring lessons.
I've been beating myself up for my lack of interest in doing my Russian homework (my teacher has just given up expecting me to read any poetry), and I've been feeling a bit melancholy about leaving behind Russia and the possibility to improve my Russian.
But then today I had a realization. I've reached my goal. Today I went ice skating with my teenage class. We spoke exclusively Russian, peppered with slang and swearing. We talked about everything for music to sports to school to girls. That was what I wanted. I was always most interested in being about to communicate with regular Russians my age--my peers. I have always had the most fun listening to Russian rap, rock, and pop songs and trying to understand them; that's how I learned Russian. I've never been much interested in Russian literature (I can understand English perfectly--why would I torture myself reading some dry text in a foreign language and be unable to appreciate the true intricacies of the word choice, double meaning, and poetry? Besides, Russian punctuation bothers me on a deep level). I'm not planning to work in Russia--it's not my home country, and while being a foreigner is an intensely rewarding and challenging experience, it's not a lifestyle for me. Home is calling, and I'm excited to get back and start a new chapter in my life. I've always just wanted to speak with young Russians, to take a glimpse into the life of my peers who were born on the other side of the world. That's all.
And now, as I stand in my Soviet apartment and chat on Vkontake (the Russian Facebook) with my students, I realize that I've completed the journey I began 11 years ago when Mrs. Subbotin wrote Здравствуйте on the board of a classroom at Kenston Middle School. I've reached my goal. Sure, there is always room for improvement, and I'll continue to strive to learn more words and phrases that will help me do what I love--talk to Russians--but I'm not going to stress about not being interested in Derzhavin's poetry or Dovlatov's short stories (not to mention my complete disinterest in reading War and Peace). Now, there is a time and a place for literature, and I see myself getting interested in that later, but that time isn't now. Pushkin's been dead for a long time, and his stuff will be there for much longer, but my chance to meet and talk with young Russians is approaching its end. I've got a great non-fiction book--in English, thank you very much--about the Vietnam war, and, when I have spare time, that's what I'm going to read. Maybe I'll even get back to reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (that book has been sitting half read for quite some time now). And I'm going to revel in the fact that I've reached--and even exceeded--my goals with Russian.
I've been having a bit of angst lately about my study of Russian. I get three hours of Russian language classes each week. Those hours, however, are the worst hours of my week. I get virtually nothing of benefit from my classes, and there are a number of reasons for that, the biggest of which being a mismatch in goals between my teacher and I. My teacher is a very nice lady who is passionate about Russian literature and lives in a world where Pushkin-style language is still used. She is totally out of touch with modern slang and cringes at the very notion of a swear word. I, on the other hand, love the slangy recesses of the Russian language and don't have much interest in 150-year-old literature. That mismatch makes for some pretty painfully boring lessons.
I've been beating myself up for my lack of interest in doing my Russian homework (my teacher has just given up expecting me to read any poetry), and I've been feeling a bit melancholy about leaving behind Russia and the possibility to improve my Russian.
But then today I had a realization. I've reached my goal. Today I went ice skating with my teenage class. We spoke exclusively Russian, peppered with slang and swearing. We talked about everything for music to sports to school to girls. That was what I wanted. I was always most interested in being about to communicate with regular Russians my age--my peers. I have always had the most fun listening to Russian rap, rock, and pop songs and trying to understand them; that's how I learned Russian. I've never been much interested in Russian literature (I can understand English perfectly--why would I torture myself reading some dry text in a foreign language and be unable to appreciate the true intricacies of the word choice, double meaning, and poetry? Besides, Russian punctuation bothers me on a deep level). I'm not planning to work in Russia--it's not my home country, and while being a foreigner is an intensely rewarding and challenging experience, it's not a lifestyle for me. Home is calling, and I'm excited to get back and start a new chapter in my life. I've always just wanted to speak with young Russians, to take a glimpse into the life of my peers who were born on the other side of the world. That's all.
And now, as I stand in my Soviet apartment and chat on Vkontake (the Russian Facebook) with my students, I realize that I've completed the journey I began 11 years ago when Mrs. Subbotin wrote Здравствуйте on the board of a classroom at Kenston Middle School. I've reached my goal. Sure, there is always room for improvement, and I'll continue to strive to learn more words and phrases that will help me do what I love--talk to Russians--but I'm not going to stress about not being interested in Derzhavin's poetry or Dovlatov's short stories (not to mention my complete disinterest in reading War and Peace). Now, there is a time and a place for literature, and I see myself getting interested in that later, but that time isn't now. Pushkin's been dead for a long time, and his stuff will be there for much longer, but my chance to meet and talk with young Russians is approaching its end. I've got a great non-fiction book--in English, thank you very much--about the Vietnam war, and, when I have spare time, that's what I'm going to read. Maybe I'll even get back to reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (that book has been sitting half read for quite some time now). And I'm going to revel in the fact that I've reached--and even exceeded--my goals with Russian.
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