“Literacy is more to me than just being able to read and write- it is about being able to
communicate. When I went down to Mexico, while I am completely literate (or so I
thought), I could not communicate. I had no way of expressing myself or telling the people
around me how much I loved and cared about them. This scared me. When we began our
inquiry on literacy, I couldn’t think of a time when not being literate had ever afftected me,
and then I thought, Mexico. I wanted to think more about it and the concept of being
literate, especially in our world. I wanted others to think about it too, and maybe even see it
in a different way.
Sarah Bates
Numero de Languages to Learn: Dos (y many mas)
Year One
I can still remember Luis picking me to sit with him at lunch.
It was my first time visiting Rio Bravo, Mexico, my first time at a deaf camp, and
let’s be real, it was my first time leaving the place I call “home”, the United States.
I just don’t remember being scared. I remember packing the night before, so
anxious and excited I couldn’t’t remember what I even needed. So I threw some stuff in a
bag and left.
Sign language? Spanish? I had taken three years of Spanish in high school but
remembered only two things: my name in Spanish, and how to roll balls of paper mache to
make a piñata. Not exactly things that will get you far more than three thousand miles from
home.
I don’t know who was more overwhelmed with my incompetence as I sat at the
table across from Luis, me or him. What was I thinking? Coming all the way down here to
just sit here? Nothing to say? No, simply no way of saying it. A waste of my time, of their
time, of his time. This was no one’s fault but my own- I will never forget the silence.
Luis: What was she thinking? Coming down here…dumb. No, not dumb, how can
someone that smiles and hugs that much be dumb? Maybe she’s just ignorant. Ignorant,
yeah, that’s a better (nicer) word for someone as nice as that. But really? Did she not know
what she was getting herself into? This is a deaf camp. As in, we don’t hear, we don’t
speak. I guess Americans seem to think that EVERYONE speaks THEIR language. I get it;
you don’t know sign, but why come down here? Mission trips: a chance for Christians to
feel good. Christians and their stupid need to feel good.
I thought someone told me once that in America, you start out early learning
languages. Sometimes you even get to pick which language you want to learn. Spanish,
French, Italian, even Latin! It’s dead and you can still learn it! And to think that’s what they
spend their whole days doing… learning dead languages… What I would give to spend my
days, my moments learning French, daydreaming about a trip I would one day take to
Paris, to actually see the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triumph! Man, what I would give. Yet,
these people, Sarah, are here to what? To see what my day is made up of? Trust me, there
are no dead languages taught in Mexico. No, my life consists of people like you coming all
the way down here, just to find out they don’t know my language (either one of them) and
therefore, don’t stand a chance at getting to know me.
Are all Americans this…dumb? Are all Americans this lucky?
It was 2008 and I had just graduated from high school. I would be attending
Marshall University in the fall as an English Education major… really? I deserve the
opportunity to teach when I don’t even have the common sense to learn a language? A few
words or phrases? In sign OR Spanish… my pick! Instead, I chose to consume the previous
months with putting off assignments and joining the rest of the senior class in our last
moments of experiencing “senioritis”… yeah, I was a real keeper in the future of our
country’s education.
I had so many things to say! It really is so good to meet you! I have been waiting for
months! I am so happy to be here. My name is Sarah… great, Sarah, so you know English,
you can speak! AWESOME. Now what? Luis is sitting here waiting for you to “say”
something…you never have a problem getting a word in anywhere else. I have felt
helpless, worthless, a lot of times in my life but never have I felt so worthless. I had
fundraised, written letters and begged for money to come down here; here I was- with
nothing to say. To say the least, that was one of the quietest and hardest weeks of my life.
Ano Cuatro
Four years later, and I am so thankful to say, things are a little bit different when I
visit Luis. The week I came home from Rio Bravo, I knew two things: I wanted to talk to
Luis and I had to find a way too. I had met a girl on the trip named Jen whose sign language
I envied. Almost immediately we began talking and I expressed my obsession with her
ability; I would sell my soul for her to teach me to sign. She agreed and we began skyping
once or twice a week for an hour or two at a time. Within weeks, we were skyping every
day and I was talking in sign! I had never been so excited to learn and I began counting
down the weeks to crossing the border again.
My next step: learn Español. But when? From who? I didn’t’t know anyone who
really knew the language, and my degree did not require me to take a foreign language.
So…when? It took me a whole semester to realize my desire to learn Spanish- my passion.
Not just because my second home was turning out to be a place where English was second
to Spanish, but because I never wanted to experience the feeling I felt sitting across from
Luis, speechless, but with so much to say but no way to say it. I picked up a Spanish minor
my freshman year at Marshall, and honestly did not become fluent until this past summer
when I spent a month in Madrid, Spain as an exchange student. Now, I could at least say
stuff like “me llamo Sarah” and “mucho gusto!” all things I would have paid millions to
know in the moment I met Luis. I could talk to Luis in sign, talk about how long I had been
waiting to see him, to talk to him, to apologize for our first meeting. Now, I could. This past
summer was my fourth time seeing Luis, and probably the best. Now we can get past the
surface conversations; we talk deep, deeper than I talk to a lot of my friends here at
“home.”
Español? Sign? English? Que? Huh?
You might be wondering what all this has to do with literacy… so yeah; it is great
that I know English and that I do one day want to teach kids English. But is not literacy
more than just a Western, American, thing? Literacy, to me, is more than just being able to
read, to write, to understand the language. It is about communication. No, I’m not saying
everyone should go and learn every language there is to learn so they can communicate
with every human being on the planet. What I am saying is that communication is
important. If you really want the experience of getting to know someone who is in a little
bit different of a situation than your own, make an effort, do it. As I sit in Starbucks, trying
to help you understand where I am coming from, I hear two Asian students talk with some
familiar American faces. I hear them struggle to make words, phrases, in their own accents
as opposed to our much thicker ones. I can’t help feel sick to my stomach while also filling
up with joy as I remember sitting in the metro in Madrid, scared to death, wanting anyone
to come along who knew English, just anyone to talk to. Literacy, whether it be literacy in
our own language, or one thousands of miles away, is more than just being able to read and
write, it is about being about to communicate. It is about being able to get to know
someone, to share yourself, to express yourself. So now when I head to Rio Bravo to teach
some kids some English, I will be able to do so, and in more than just one language.