9.29.2009

Spanish on my mind

I grew up speaking Spanish, but, because I lived on the border with the U.S., I picked up English pretty easily at a young age. I've been bilingual for a very long time. However, because I've been living in the U.S. for such a long time, writing and speaking English almost 24/7, my Spanish is now less than adequate. At least that's the way I feel. Just the other day, I was talking to some friends in Mexico, and they noticed, as well as I did, that I could not conjugate the verbs too well. In fact, the Spanish word "de", meaning "of", will often end up being "the" when I am writing Spanish fast. I try to read Mexican newspapers and listen to radio in Spanish, but English has definitely become my main form of communication.
This is not a "sad" or a "bad" thing. Almost all business in the U.S. is conducted in English. Furthermore, a ton of people I know don't have the grasp of their own language as I do. Nevertheless, I don't want to lose my ability to read, write, and speak in Spanish. In fact, it is something that I want to pass on to my children at some point. The benefits of being bilingual are huge in this world from a social and biological point of view.
Estimates put Spanish as the third or fourth language with the most native speakers in the world (after Chinese, English, and maybe Arabic). So folks who speak it are able to get around and befriend or do business with people in a lot of corners of the world. In Mexico alone there are over 120 million people ready and able to work with you. And the Hispanic population in the U.S., even with their broken Spanish, are also a good resource. There is also all of South America and far Western Europe. Knowing Spanish even helps deal with people in Italian, French, and Portuguese.
From a biological standpoint, being bilingual stimulates parts of the brain that would otherwise go dormant. (This is why older people have a harder time learning a different language.) Children in particular are the most benefited by learning another language. It opens their young, plastic minds to another level of learning, another world. And it prepares them to compete in a global economy that will most likely not go away.
This is why it troubles me a lot when I hear parents and educators (and a lot of policymakers) denounce and put down the idea of teaching children another language. The argument that "English is the official language of the United States of America" is not only false but full of unintended consequences. The U.S. does not have an "official" language. That is, there is no Federal law calling for English only proceedings, documents, etc. Doing so would go against the equal protection of people in this country who do not speak English. Second, the children who only speak English will be a minority in a world where everyone is learning about everyone else. They will not be able to compete for jobs with multinational corporations. Heck, now knowing Spanish puts you at the back of the line in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California.
So I'll be passing on my love of all things related to other languages, not just Spanish, to my children, my students, and my peers. There is really no excuse why we should not allow children to learn another language and experience other culture. No excuse.

9.23.2009

Do you like your...?

Job? Absolutely. It's a good job. No weekends. Call two weeks a year. It's interesting, challenging. I get to do a lot of things and meet a lot of people. Why, just today, Lakshmi Singh came and interviewed me about my flu surveillance work. It was interesting and kind of nerve-racking, but it was great to be able to tell the world that here we are, us epidemiologists, trying to look after you.

Work? Are you kidding? I love my work. What other kind of work would allow me to actually make a difference? Sure, there are others. But this work is so important, so exhilarating right now that I can't see myself doing other things at the moment. While I'm not happy there is a pandemic ocurring, I am very excited... very excited.

I am lucky like that.



We should all be so lucky as to not have a job

9.15.2009

The speck in my eye

I'm not a bad person, really. Seriously, I'm not. I have not broken any law that would have me convicted to any jail time or caused damage to private property above $20. I've never cheated on my past girlfriends or my current fiancee. I've never been violent (on purpose) toward anyone. And I have always tried to respect my elders. This doesn't seem to matter much in this crazy world, though. The amount of good I do is only returned to me in little bits and pieces. And it always seems like someone of equal but evil character and caliber is always trying to mess with me.
Some of the earliest instances of bullying I can remember happened when I was in kindergarten. I forget the name of the kid, but he was a little bigger and a lot older than I was. You have to understand that I started kinder when I was 4 years old. (My birthday was in January, and Mom would not have me held back one year for that. Besides, I could read already.) I remember one teacher saying that Aaron... yes, I remember his name... I remember one teacher saying that he should have been in second grade already. In Mexico, you see, they really do hold you back. I knew kids in sixth grade who were in their mid teens! Anyway, Aaron one chased me all over the school while clapping two big rocks with his hands. He said that he was going to use them to crush my head. I went crying to my teacher, and he made fun of me for acting like a girl. His bullying would continue for a while. The last I heard of him was when I was in third grade and he was in first. He tried to shove me to the ground when we were playing on the playground, but I was a little smarter and better coordinated by then. I got away easily.
The bullies kept coming on all through school. In High School, the took the shape of the jerk whose father died, so he took it upon himself to spread the misery. There was also this one girl who was morbidly obese. She must have been a good 300 pounds... Lucy Huereca. (I'm telling you... be evil, and I'll remember you.) She had the biggest chip on her shoulder. Every guy that wouldn't date her was gay, and every girl that wouldn't bow down to her majesty was a "dike". There was also the youngest of the MagaƱa brothers. The chip on his shoulder was all about his older brothers being football stars and him being too slow to remember the plays. I really don't remember what his beef with me was.
And that has been the case all the time... I can't, for the life of me, explain why these people made it their job to tease and bother me. I never reacted violently toward them, so they never really had a deterrent. And I rarely told my mother about it, so she didn't deter anyone. Once I was an adult, my size was my deterrent, and it was also the motive for more flak. See, there were all these girls, pretty girls, who first saw my weight and then saw my heart, if ever. I'd bend over backwards to come to their rescue, but that wasn't enough. One of them, Priscilla, required that I not only look good but drive a good vehicle and make lots of money. The joke was on her, though. I hear she doesn't have that now, and I do.
Bitter? Maybe a little bit. I think I'm more confused by their actions toward me. Why did they have to do this? Why did they have to act that way? I get urges to be evil and mean, too, but I hold myself back (most of the time). And let's not use the excuse that their brain wasn't fully cooked. Mine wasn't, and I never bullied anyone or blamed them for my problems. It has never my intent to bother someone to the point of disturbing their sleeping patterns or make them not want to go home... ever.
As it turns out, The Girl's brother found it necessary to make fun of me today. But let me give you the full picture. He has recently started dating a girl who has a friend who is, by all accounts, morbidly obese. He told me that his girlfriend and her friend make fun of the girl for not "being aware" of her problem. This in light of the fact that The Girl's brother has an enormous self-image problem. So he must think that we all worry about how we look. Anyway, he was making fun of, who I can only think is his girlfriend's friend, saying that she reminds him of me... going out for a run and then coming back to eat "four sandwiches". Talk about memories rushing back into my head. He accentuated the comment by stating that he only made fun of my size because his sister wants me in shape for the wedding.
Well... If that's what she really wants, which I know she doesn't, she wouldn't be the one for me. But she is... So I know better. Someone is just projecting on me his insecurities. So I think someone should take out the branch stuck in his eye before he points out the speck in my eye.