Language is always a magic thing. It is a tool for communication between people. People in different regions have their own unique languages.

 

In the third grade of primary school, our school began to offer English classes, and I also welcomed the first tutor since I went to school. In the first class, I sat beside my tutor at the desk. The tutor bent over and showed me how to pronounce English word by word. “Thank you, Thank you. Thank you.” “Sank you.” I repeated. “No, th-ank you. “The tip of her tongue comes out,” she said, leaning over her head, her upper and lower teeth nibbling at the tip of her tongue in a hiss. “Th ank you.” “Th – sank you, Th – sank you.” I stared at the tip of her tongue, trying to imitate. But I do not know why, my tongue is like a slippery loach, just out of their own involuntarily shrank in. “Th – Th ank you.” The tutor sister lip-synched with exaggeration. “Th – sank you.” Under her intense gaze, the muscles of my face seemed to turn to stone, not listening to my brain. The one-hour course was spent in correcting this pronunciation repeatedly, and in my confusion and self-reproach, minute by minute.

Of all the learning experiences I have had, none is better described as “the beginning of everything is difficult” than learning English. Today, more than ten years later, I have experienced countless English classes in primary and middle schools, took the toefl test, and got used to living in a foreign country accompanied by English every day. However, when I recall my first English class taught by an English teacher, I can still feel the wet palms and stiff lips.

The feeling may be familiar to most language learners: our mouths and brains are rusty machines that require time and practice before they can produce strange sounds and unfamiliar sentence patterns. We are constantly on our guard against grammar and rules that differ from Chinese — tenses and third-person singular, for example — and we don’t take every verb too seriously. In this state, the language expression is not as spontaneous as the original but becomes treading on thin ice. Words that are intended to be conveyed are like rushing rapids, but they are blocked by the dam of language barriers, rushing and circling impatiently in the mind. However, such a state will not last indefinitely. Of all learning experiences, it is language learning that best confirms the belief that “no pains, no gains”. At the initial stage, language learning is basically a process in which practice makes perfect. Under the supervision of teachers in class, we gradually began to clear up the blocking of initial expression through continuous practice. In after-school English classes and summer camps, our red cheeks when we open our mouths in full view of the public are gradually replaced by calmness and generosity. When we watch friends with great interest against the Chinese and English subtitles, we may even forget the language barrier occasionally due to the emotions of the characters in the show, and gradually realize that English is also a tool to express our feelings after all. As psychological strangeness fades, our language skills are improving. From apples, alarm clocks and t-shirts to printers, clothes hangers and astronauts, things around us have come to have names. Abstract concepts are harder to express, but with gestures and expressions, you can start grudgingly discussing sneakers and popular logo with Americans. Little by little, language begins to return to its rightful place. The dam that once held back our words seems to be loosening. One evening at summer camp, my roommates and I stayed in the dining room after dinner and talked about everything. For some reason people started talking about their own recipes, so I introduced them a  cold dish of “watermelon skin in cold sauce”. “Cut the rind into strips and burn them in a pot of hot water,” my left hand compares to a kitchen knife and my right hand to a chopping board to create a cut. “The thickness should be suitable, and the burning time should not be too long or too short. Wait until they cool down, then fridge them in the fridge… ” The two roommates across the table smiled and nodded as they listened. Sam’s smile deepens, and Michael finally bursts into laughter. “Henry, ‘burn’ in hot water? ‘it should boil in hot water!’ “Oh, I know, I know.” “I explained quickly.       “‘ refrigerator ‘cannot be used as a verb. You have to put food in the fridge… ”

“Too fast to remember,” I laughed. “Don’t you just understand?

The sense of accomplishment of being able to express yourself freely in a foreign language is really intoxicating. We feel that years of hard work have finally paid off, so we casually grasp the words floating in our minds, throw out sentences, so that the flow of words is no longer restricted by grammar and words. We are well aware of the occasional oversight, but we are comfortable with it. After all, didn’t our English teacher always encourage us to speak up and make mistakes? At this point, the future of language learning seems bright. We can’t wait to look at the future: at this rate of progress, and students will have no barriers to communication, understand RAP lyrics in the near future, write an English paper may not be so scratching my head. Success in language learning seems to be at hand. It was only at some point that we first became aware of the raging undercurrents and eddies buried beneath the rushing waters of the stream.

“Sam, can you lend me a changes? “I asked my roommate, who was deep in homework.

Sam looked up at me with a puzzled face.

I’m going downstairs to buy some soda and I point to the can at the door.

“Oh, you mean ‘change,'” she said suddenly, and took out some steel and gave it to me. ” You can’t add s to an odd change.” I was stunned for a moment. “You’re right.”

At Sam’s correction, I immediately realized the mistake in the wording. Before that, however, I never noticed any difference between me and my American classmates when I used this word. This insignificant flaw, submerged in the busy daily communication, made me think that I was clear about the mistakes in my words. I couldn’t help asking myself: how many mistakes in my English are hidden like this that I haven’t noticed yet?

This awareness makes me more careful to guard against these mistakes and strive to make my expression more accurate. But it also put a shackle on my use of language. Caution replaced carelessness. Gone are the days of “burning in hot water” and “refrigerator up”. The words that once flowed so freely are now a weak stream, winding its way slowly past rocks and craters.