Welcome to our first issue of the Language Exepress!

I was once told by a wise old history teacher that doubt is the beginning not the end of wisdom. If I were to take this at face value I should have more wisdom than Bill Gates and the back of my mouth. Thus, I will admit now that I am a worrier. Lamentably, not the Tom Hardy kind. But rather one who, on facing these unprecedented times, has been lulled into a haze of long-drawn-out reflection. I am simultaneously an optimist and the questions buzzing around my head, although they currently lack answers, characterise something worth far more than fear and anguish, an avail to which I accord far greater importance than mere uncertainty. For now, it appears to make sense why I chose to study languages. The questions, the doubt, the curiosity, language learning is the doubt which inspires me, the mirror which guides me and most importantly the channel which platforms my ambition. 

 

Let me take you back to April of last year. My dry eyelids creek open slowly like the doors to a wine cellar. I can just about make out the bountiful hills of Brittany through a glimmer of light protruding through the French shutters and reflected through the mirror. I smell warm crêpes. My mind wanders. I leap out of bed and take another glimpse of the great grandiose grasslands of Finistère. My eyes and mouth are now watering. C’est la vie. 

 

There are some moments in life when there is no pretext to your belonging. You experience excitement, equanimity and endeavor all at the same time. I feel this every time I go to France. The wake-up call which got me out of bed that morning was not the amiable French mother at whose house I bunked, nor the eye-watering beauty of the landscape. But rather the metaphorical kind, which told me that there was something more than mist lingering upon those hills. Indeed, there, lay an explanation which would allow me to understand the true reason why I came. I had set out on a quest for wisdom and doubt was setting in.

 

I was tired, anxious and slightly perturbed by the ferry journey of the previous night, but excited to be heading to my first day at work as a Teaching Assistant in a primary school in Brittany. On entering the school for the very first time, I was startled by the booming echo of schoolkids stampeding down the corridor shouting, what I interpreted as, “Poissons miel! Poissons miel!” Roughly translated as, “Honey fish! Honey fish!” Well I knew that the French liked their fish, but not this much. My rusty French was dealt a harsh blow that day. I stroll into the staff room at break-time in a state of confusion, utterly oblivious to the fact that I had just been dealt the highest form of embarrassment. 50 coloured fish stamped to my blazer. In this moment, all of a sudden, excitement became embarrassment, equanimity became fear and endeavor became lassitude. 

 

In a heap of despair, a hysterical teacher rushes over and gives me a sympathetic pat on the back before explaining that I have been subject to a “poisson d’avril!” It turns out that there is a well-known French tradition whereby schoolchildren stick coloured paper fish to each other's backs on the first of April. To my despair, the trick is followed by a chorus of laughter. However, a quick glance over towards the headmaster and it appears I got off quite lightly.

 

Now, to somewhat change course for a moment, I sat in a lecture hall for the first time 618 days ago at time of writing beside my friend Anthony who is now one of my closest friends. My Italian was limited to basic conversation with my grandmother and a good two days spent on Duolingo in preparation. I was making sluggish progress to say the least. Since then, we have attended lectures, worked hard and now we possess, I say hesitantly though not ungrudgingly, a strong grasp of the language. We have channelled our ambition, interest and determination into our language learning and have reaped the rewards. Of course, we have experienced embarrassment, fear and lassitude on some level, but that is what makes us ambitious. That is what makes us linguists.

 

But why is 618 significant? After doing a little math, if I were to have spent every hour of my life from then until now studying, according to folklore, I should have passed the 10,000 hour mark which, supposedly, makes me an expert. I will admit now that I am somewhat sceptical of this metrical approach to judging progression. Put simply and this may seem like an obvious point, the longer you work at something, the more proficient you will become at it. Equally, it has always been my deep-rooted belief that language learning is created in the classroom and consolidated abroad. But listen folks, it is not working for 10,000 hours or going abroad which makes you fluent in a language, you need the right attitude.

 

Over the past year, it has dawned on me that ambition characterised by excitement, equanimity and endeavour, is what truly drives me. Proof of this has been this publication. It has given me a reason to be ambitious and a medium through which I have used my own experience of language learning to help others. Through this edition I have tried to help language learners channel their motivation, interest and determination, as well as to prospect their and my own journalistic intrigue. I worked tirelessly to begin the process of making the Exepress a parallel-text publication, to give language learners like you a new dimension to your learning. Consequently, I have come to realise that journalism, like languages, is multifaceted. In my interview with Channel Four journalist Sarah Gough, I gauged the all important link between journalism and languages and there is no doubt that through this publication I have discovered the connection between languages and me: a bestowal for which I will be eternally grateful.

I wake up now in my Exeter room, looking into my mirror and glimpse the bountiful hills of Exeter. I smell omelettes and tea. But, above all, I glimpse the doubt which continues to guide me on my quest for linguistic proficiency. In the words of Einstein, 'intelligence is the ability to change'. Whether you study languages, art, music, sciences do not let barriers forbear your ambition. Instead, be proactive and make the most of the time you have to create, consolidate and most importantly adapt. I have shown that even by looking at simpler times, there was always a cloud of anxiety and doubt looming over, for that is my nature, your nature and forever it will be. The reality is that we can reflect and admire simpler times, but we must also adjust in order to progress. For now, like flies in a wine cellar we are all a bit lost. But when I woke up this morning and made out that glimmer of light, I felt reassured that everything was going to be just fine. Now back to my crêpes.