“Estoy terminado,” is what my son says every time he’s done eating. Not, “he terminado,” or “ya terminé.” When he wants to know what something’s for, the question is, “¿Qué es eso para?”
And it drives me absolutely crazy. Because both examples are such direct translations from English. I am finished. Estoy terminado. What’s that for? ¿Qué es eso para?
As I do whenever my boys say something that’s not quite right, I correct them gently without quite correcting them by repeating the correct way to say it back to them. Sí, ya terminaste. ¿Quieres saber para qué es eso? If they’re talking to me in Spanish and use a word in English, I supply them with the Spanish equivalent.
Gentle corrections or not, though, the expressions persist, and I wonder what to do about them. We all worry about making sure our children learn the minority language—and worry that if we become too critical, learning the language will no longer be fun for them and they will rebel or give up. In my case, throw in my boys’ speech delays and it makes me even more reluctant to correct them.
Part of the reason the mistakes drive me so crazy is that they’re happening more frequently. My kids are having a great final year of preschool, and though they’re keeping up with the Spanish at home and even with one of their teachers, they’re in a mostly-English environment all day, and I think it’s starting to show.
Part of the reason is my training. I thought my Spanish was great when I decided to pursue a master’s degree in interpretation. After all, I had lived and studied in both the U.S. and Latin America. Fortunately, I was blissfully unaware of what I was getting into—the program, though it was excellent and I loved it, was simply brutal. It was two years of constant criticism and extremely hard work. I practiced interpretation with my classmates at 6:00 a.m. and then again for hours after class in the afternoon. People routinely broke down in tears during class. When we allowed one language to seep into the other, it was called “contamination.” Realizing just how much I didn’t know was quite a rude awakening. After years of code-switching or using Spaniglish with my friends and family, I essentially broke the habit.
I read this post on Spanglish with keen interest. Although I am teaching my boys Spanish, I try hard to always be aware that I am not raising little interpreters, and I have no interest in doing so. This site has educated me quite a bit, actually. I’ve loved reading about code-switching in children and how it is a natural part of dual-language acquisition. The way my children can switch back and forth never ceases to amaze me. However, I did realize something huge about myself when I was in graduate school: Whenever I found myself speaking Spanglish, I was usually switching to the other language because I had never learned how to say the word I was looking for in the first one.
That’s why I try hard to at least provide my children with the word they need, or to point out that marrón is the same color as café, for example. And it’s clear that reading to them in Spanish is so hugely beneficial—they routinely use expressions that I don’t use but that I recognize from their books. I also believe that lacking vocabulary in your second language is not actually a serious problem—we can all learn a new set of vocabulary.
The last time Primo told me “estoy terminado,” I decided to try a different tack. “That’s not quite how you say it in Spanish,” I told him. “You say, ya terminé.” I watched the wheels turn for a few seconds and waited for his reaction. “Sí, así se dice,” he told me unequivocally. “Estoy terminado.” Then he laughed, and I laughed, and we had a mock argument and went back and forth on it a few times.
My reasoning was that Primo is an intellectually curious little boy, and he might appreciate the explanation and the correction. Apparently not, at least not right now. So I’m left pondering my next move, I haven’t really figured out what to do about correcting mistakes, and I have no idea how to neatly tie up this blog post.
Except maybe like this:
Estoy terminada.
Wow! The Master’s program sounds brutal, lacking self-confidence, and like an emotional roller coaster. What a gift that you have now that it’s over, but the process must have been challenging (and THAT is an understatement).
I will only say that we cannot GIVE children self-esteem, we can only help BUILD it and correcting mistakes with young children in language acquisition chops away at that self-esteem. Using the ‘teachable moment’ to model the correct way to say something that was earlier said incorrectly is what I propose and stand behind 100% as I train teachers and parents on this topic.
Good for you Kimberly – good for you!
Beth, thanks so much for your comment! I appreciate the support, and your professional opinion because I must admit I was feeling kind of at a loss on this one. And my boys have come so far, the last thing I want to do is bring them down!
Kimberly, I don’t think you have to look for the right approach. I really think you are doing it just right, already. By giving feedback gently, you are showing patience and compassion, not stressing them out or making them feel negatively about the language. At the same time, you’e not giving up or giving in.
I would like to tell you about my (monolingual) daughter’s grammar when she was little. She started talking early but from the very beginning she said things like “pick up the me” and many, many other strange constructions I don’t remember anymore. Even as late as age 10 she still said funny things once in a while. She had a large vocabulary, just odd grammar. I was correcting her when she was around 1 or 2, but at some point I noticed it was making her feel badly and I stopped. She always loved to read books, and to listen to grownups talk, so I figured that’s a great reinforcement of the correct constructions. I took a leap of faith and decided to put it down to her personality. She was just doing things her own certain way, which she does have a tendency to do. It was a little tough not to be worried when teachers sometimes commented on this issue. But I am super glad I decided to not to stress, and let itself work out in the long term. I did see that it was gradually, gradually changing over time. In hindsight I know at least this for sure: for a kid, Communicating with Mom has to basically feel good more or less most of the time, or they will slowly, slowly stop going for that. As they get older they have more and more options for other people to communicate with… I’m not saying don’t tell them anything difficult, only that it’s important to be patient and compassionate, just like you are doing, Kimberly!
Now, my daughter is 19. She likes to write poetry, and on her college entrance exams she got very close to a perfect score in the language section.
Just keep providing lots of good examples and models of correct grammar, and think long term.
Beth, I love the story about your daughter! Thanks for the perspective–sometimes it’s hard to look at the long term as opposed to what’s happening right now. My kids are so young, so I love hearing from parents with older kids who have been there! And you’re right that communicating with Mom has to feel good. Especially since I’m the only one who speaks to them in Spanish, it’s our special language and I don’t want it to become a chore.
My gosh, you’re definitely not alone, your story (except for the masters degree) is exactly like mine, with the same phrases in spanish! I feel tired too of correcting my son but I don’t have any other solution for it, I keep doing it and doing it trusting that after time he will know.
Dariela, based on the two previous comments, I think you’re right, the key is probably repetition, repetition.
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