Language matters

I loved my sixth form English teacher. He was known for being very strict and having very little patience for any clowning around. He was feared by many and could put people on a very awkward spot at times but I loved attending his classes - why? Because I was always good at English - even if I say so myself. 

I remember getting my first English book at primary school - I read it from cover to cover that day. I remember the illustrations, photos of London which I oooh'd and aaaah'd at - especially the image of shop displaying a sign "drug store" caused a lot of confusion - "What? You can buy (illegal) drugs in a shop in England?" How I knew what illegal drugs were at 9 years old, I am not sure.

Growing up I had over 120 pen pals around the world - in the time internet forgot - and used to diligently write hundreds of letters every week, mostly bonding over our mutual love of boy bands. I could recognise someone's nationality by their handwriting - a skill I am proud of to this day - but also picked up a lot of colloquialisms which were absolutely helpful when I moved to London. The English are proud of their Queen's English - shame more of them do not speak it! 

When I first arrived, of course there were moments of embarrassment of using the wrong word in a context - like telling someone the Finns eat suede instead of swede at Christmas - he did look at me funny.  I was always getting 'he' and 'she' muddled up - in Finnish we do not express gender, everyone is 'a person' or plain old 'it' - we like to keep it simple. Also remembering to say please every given moment is alien to most Finns. We can dress our demands up with perhaps 'could you...' or 'may I'  but short and sharp 'give me...' or 'I want...' is deemed sufficient in most situations. So forcibly remembering the ever present 'please' took a while to come naturally  - now it gets me funny looks in Finland as I seem to be unable to stop myself from uttering it every two words! 

Like looking in the mirror after a big night out :)

But the ultimate "Honey I'm home" moment was when I started to dream in English. Guess at that moment you brain sort of gives up trying to translate everything from one language to another and says 'sod it, let's go with the majority vote'. I am hoping this also works in reverse, given that I am currently fluent in English and speak a second language of Min-nish which my relatives find hysterically funny - comparisons to Andy McCoy are frequent and not completely undeserved either. (Just for the use of language, not looks - I hope!) 

Currently I am flipping between utter elation of not having to go to work and major panic about moving my whole life to another country where I have only ever done bar work. As much as I enjoyed pulling pints when I was 18, I much prefer drinking them now and am hoping to utilise my experience and language skills in order to find a professional job in Finland, even without a university degree.  Surely working in English for 16 years must count for something. Fingers crossed. 

I am still in touch with some of the 120 pen pals - and yes, we still bond over our mutual love of now-man bands... And I still get 'he' and 'she' mixed up which Emma finds very funny - "Mummy you called him a girl!!" And I forget the occasional word, like "What's a stick with a brush at the end of it called?" That would be a broom. Perhaps I should kiss the TEFL qualification goodbye...