According to Genesis, all the world’s people spoke the same language. But when Noah’s descendants began building a tower up to the heavens (“The Tower of Babel”), God punished their pride.
“… Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another’s speech.” Genesis 11:7
Suddenly, people spoke different languages; they could not communicate and finish the tower. They grouped themselves by language and scattered about the earth.
Our Jewish faith emphasizes the importance of forming relationships with the “stranger.” God’s punishment at the Tower of Babel does not negate this belief; it simply means we have to try harder. Studying a foreign language opens a window into another culture. It increases our understanding and empathy.
Years ago, my German was nearly fluent. I traveled to Austria and conversed in German throughout the trip. It was a marvelous experience. However, if we don’t use a language, we lose it, and now my German skills are limited. But my interest in foreign language remains, and after we planned a family trip to the Dutch island of Curacao, I decided to learn basic Dutch. My husband labeled this decision one of my “hare-brained” schemes or a “Lucy and Ethel” moment. My daughter’s comment was, “Great idea, Mom. Dutch will be so useful in your daily life.” Refusing to be deterred by these linguistic naysayers, I signed up for Beginners Dutch on my.babbel.com. After several months of study, I was excited to “practice” my new skills with real Dutch speakers in Curacao.
Unfortunately, my hopes of engaging in simple Dutch conversation were dashed. The moment I opened my mouth and spoke my paltry Dutch, reactions ran the gamut from amused to confused. Although some people seemed appreciative of my attempts, they all responded in English. “I am determined to speak Dutch with this waiter,” I told my family at one restaurant. Proudly conjuring up sentences from Lesson 3, I asked for bread and a bottle of water. The waiter’s response?
“Coming right up. Sparkling or still?”
Not only did people speak to me in English, some slowed their words as if speaking to a toddler. What was I supposed to do? Stand my ground and continue to blab in Dutch? Pretend I was from Uzbekistan and convey it was Dutch, Uzbek or bust?
Couldn’t they throw this “Babbel Dot Com-er” a Dutch bone?
Still, I should not have been surprised by my experience in Curacao. Most foreigners switch to English in similar situations.
Why?
Perhaps they prefer to practice their own English. Maybe they are impatient and don’t wish to play teacher. They might want the English speaker to feel more comfortable. Or maybe they don’t want to hear someone butcher their language.
Whatever the reason, Beginner’s Level One was not enough. I needed to be proficient. Then I could have enjoyed conversations like the ones I had in Austria years ago.
And this got me thinking. If proficiency in another’s language increases the likelihood of mutual conversation and understanding, does the same apply to “Teen Speak”?
Teens (and even pre-teens) have their own language. Teen Speak makes kids feel independent. It allows them to assert their individuality and keeps parents in the dark. This use of unfamiliar words is not a new phenomenon, but modern-day kids now have an arsenal of social media and all the accompanying phrases.
Most parents understand the importance of having strong communication with our kids; some even believe mastering Teen Speak is the best way to accomplish this goal. After all, how do we talk to babies? We use a high-pitched voice and make silly sounds. So, speaking to our kids in the way they communicate with each other makes sense.
Or does it?
Unfortunately, Teen Speak is difficult to learn because it constantly evolves. On the rare occasions I used Teen Speak with my kids, they replied, “You know, Mom. No one says that anymore.” And even if we get the words right, the result isn’t improved communication, it’s a cringe worthy experience. Don’t we all remember our parents trying to use our language-of-the-moment? Their efforts never encouraged me to spill out my innermost secrets. I was actually embarrassed for them.
Like the Dutch people I met in Curacao, kids won’t respond in their language; they’ll answer in ours. But unlike the Dutch, kids won’t appreciate our efforts. They’ll roll their eyes because we are treading on their territory. And even if we become fluent in Teen Speak, our kids’ reaction will be the same. They want to keep their language to themselves. Of course, knowing Teen Speak can be crucial if we have a child in crisis because certain words, phrases and acronyms indicate dangerous behavior. But generally, we are better off putting our energies into talking about safety and reassuring our kids we are here to listen. We can determine when our kids are most likely to open up and when they want their space. Parents need not memorize Urban Dictionary to communicate effectively with our kids. We don’t have to spend hours deciphering every term used on Facebook, Snap chat, Instagram, Twitter or have a Slang app on our phones.
The Torah repeatedly commands us to respect and care for the stranger. Learning a foreign language shows consideration for others and, with proficiency, can lead to meaningful conversation. But learning Teen Speak does not strengthen understanding and communication in the same way. As a matter of fact, our efforts might even cause our kids to “head desk.” And what is the definition of “head desk?” A feeling of frustration so intense, the person wants to bang his head on a desk.
That’s what it means.
That’s what it means today.
I think.
This article was published in The Jewish Advocate on February 8, 2019.
