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Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Pia Hansen: Desire, not fear, is best reason to learn English

Pia K. Hansen The Spokesman-Review

I often shop at the Russian markets in town, mostly because they carry odd ethnic delicacies a homesick Scandinavian can appreciate, like herring, smoked mackerel and liver pate in little cans.

Standing there at the counter I wish I knew Russian, because then I could talk to the woman who counts my change. I could tell her that I’m an immigrant too, and that I, too, once struggled to have a conversation in English, but that it gets easier over time.

Like many other states, Idaho just adopted English as its official language.

In the wake of the failed immigration reform much is being said about how immigrants should be forced to learn English.

“They” should learn English if “they” want to live here or “they” should be sent home, some people say.

Absolutely, I believe immigrants should learn English, but I don’t think it should be a felony or grounds for deportation to not speak it. Just think about it for a minute. What would the standards be? Passing the 10th-grade WASL? Being able to count to 10?

When I moved over here from Denmark in ‘91, I’d never had an actual conversation in English, but I expected that to happen as soon as the plane touched down. I was right.

Never in my wildest imagination did I expect anyone here – government official or not – to speak my language.

Growing up, I had English in school beginning in fifth grade. German was added a year later, and then in high school I suffered through three years of French. I still remember some German, but my French is strictly for entertainment purposes.

As a new immigrant my English vocabulary was tiny and timid, and for years my accent made me feel like my mouth was full of hot mashed potatoes, or sometimes little squirmy worms, just ready to fall out when I spoke.

Today, I’m close to being bilingual – but my motivation wasn’t fear of deportation; it was the desire to assimilate and succeed outside the four walls of my living room.

Learning English was not easy, and I still work at it every day.

You see, I can tell by the look on someone’s face as soon as I make a language mistake, so I self-correct. Sometimes it takes years to fix a “bad” language habit.

It took me forever to remember that “salmon” is pronounced without an “l.”

Something remains askew with the way I say “tartar sauce” because the waiters still look at me like I asked for a side of rat poison.

I can’t pronounce “zebra” and “zipper” the right way – and I wish all “zoos” were called simply “animal parks” because that’s what they are.

This winter, I confused “thong” and “tong” at a fancy kitchen store. They didn’t carry that first kind in stainless steel.

So I’m not a language genius. I’m not one of those people who can pick up conversational Portuguese during my Christmas break, but I also can’t imagine living in a new country and not learning the main language.

On this Fourth of July, here’s my challenge to you:

If English is not your first language, make an effort to learn it.

If English is your first language, reach out and help someone else learn it.

Then, on a Fourth of July some years from now, we will be able to say to all our neighbors:

“Hey guys! Glad you could make it. Come on in, sit down, who wants a hamburger?” and everyone will understand what is being said.