Learning the Language

We have to be submerged in it to really learn

I jumped on the pitch, my cleats tied tightly around my feet and I felt that rush of playing the game I loved. Never the same plays twice, always about space, moves, holding the line. I loved soccer. I still love it. Once you learn the movement of something in your body, it is hard for it not to still feel comforting and exciting. Those days though, I was immersed in something more than a sport. I was learning a language.

You see in the town I was at in high school their soccer team wasn’t as competitive as I would have liked. My parents didn’t have the time to drive me half way across the state to play the way I really craved with girls at a similar level to me. Instead, my evenings after school and work I went to the fields in the park and just practiced skills, till one day some guys I went to high school with showed up. These weren’t guys I knew well, but they were familiar enough for us to exchange interest in playing. As it was common in our factory focused small southern Michigan town, they spoke mostly or only Spanish. Their world was extremely different than mine, but we loved the same sport and despite what their cultural norms would have said, they joined me on the field and made me an equal to them in play.

The sport connected us. But I couldn’t pick up the lingo they used to communicate on the field. My words didn’t connect either. Yelling “Here!” while they shouted “Aqui!” Even if playing in the same medium, we were in different places altogether.

I instead watch their movements and learned to put myself in clear places. I still yelled words that I figured they didn’t know well. Each game, led me to understanding them more and more. I had no other footing to stand on but learn and take in their language since I was the odd english speaker out in this situation. I was in their territory, not my own so I leaned in because I loved the level of play and the way I was challenged compared to the beginner level practices I attended for the brand new school team.

Over the summer and fall that year, I began to learn the language. The days we played on that field for a few hours a day resulted in an education I hadn’t planned on. I started paying attention to when they said words and what that must mean because of it. I would sometimes ask and over time I found comfort in even conjugating verbs. I was immersing myself in a language. I wasn’t great, but I was very aware of what was happening around me. They no longer could talk behind my back about my blonde hair or who thought I was cute. I knew everything that was going on.

I thought it would stick when I left high school and those days playing with the guys and eventually the girls who I helped develop a league themselves (a total cultural shake up for them). I thought when I signed up for college level Spanish the immersion would translate easily to the classroom the way it had on the field.