Author: Kathryn Lukey-Coutsocostas
Date: November 2011
Source: Athens News, Column ‘On the borderline’
WHENEVER I’m upset in a Greek-speaking situation, I can hear my tongue becoming thicker and thicker, with my pronunciation, grammar and line of thought blurring.
Professor Emeritus Francois Grosjean confirms that stress can interfere with second-language skills. In his contribution to the anthology Cultural and Language Diversity and the Deaf Experience, he says there may be problems in trying to find the appropriate words and in switching language unintentionally.
In his Psychology Today blog, Life as a Bilingual, Grosjean goes on to verify that the accents of late bilinguals – those of us who didn’t acquire more than one language simultaneously – can reappear or get stronger in emotionally charged situations.
His post, called “Emotions in More than One Language”, refutes the common belief that we revert back to our mother tongue in emotional situations, explaining that each case is different, depending on our past experiences with that emotion.
During intense moments, he says, we use whichever language – or a combination – that we feel most comfortable with. Some of us, for example, express love or affection more freely in the language we acquired later in life, while others may use it for cussing.
Scrambled words
The other day, Alice Eppinga’s Greek neighbor was felling a beautiful oak tree in a nearby empty lot.
“I lost it,” Eppinga says. “The words were all there but came out upside down, in my horror that anyone could commit such an act.” Specifically, when distressed, she interchanges her Greek syllables.
Yet, the American persists. “Such situations don’t make me want to speak English,” says Eppinga, who moved to Greece in 1968.
She adds: “I am aware, however, that when I get angry in Greek, I often use words or expressions that are not the right register.” So, she finds herself dropping down to very informal, sometimes even inappropriate, language.
Fellow American Dolores Protagoras also reverts to vernacular Greek when upset.
“I’m more likely to use colloquialisms,” Protagoras says.
She moved to Greece in 1984 as a heritage repatriate and would prefer to speak in English when disturbed, including driving altercations and instances of queue-jumping.
“At such moments, I realize that my attitudes are different from those of the environment.
Lost irony
Like the other interviewees (and me), she later goes over zealous exchanges in her head, saying: “I aspire to a cool ironic response which doesn’t come to mind when I’m angry.”
In the same vein, Briton Roger House would also rather speak English when distraught. “Irony is more difficult in a second language,” he says.
Clarity is also an issue. After some clashes, House, who moved here in 1993, sometimes checks with native speakers to see if he’s made himself clear in Greek.
“I have even sometimes found myself preparing what to say in advance of an emotionally charged incident occurring – like having an imaginary conversation,” he says, adding: “I think it boils down to the fear of not being properly understood.”
Unlike those of us who get blocked, scrambled or overly familiar when using agitated Greek, House becomes more measured and precise, which works to his advantage.
“Native speakers of any language don’t think twice before they speak,” he notes, “which probably causes even more upset.”
Kathryn Lukey-Coutsocostas is an Athens-based, Canadian Greek (by marriage) writer and a transnational of some 30-odd years
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Bursting With Emotion
Author: Kathryn Lukey-Coutsocostas
Date: November 2011
Source: Athens News, Column ‘On the borderline’
WHENEVER I’m upset in a Greek-speaking situation, I can hear my tongue becoming thicker and thicker, with my pronunciation, grammar and line of thought blurring.
Professor Emeritus Francois Grosjean confirms that stress can interfere with second-language skills. In his contribution to the anthology Cultural and Language Diversity and the Deaf Experience, he says there may be problems in trying to find the appropriate words and in switching language unintentionally.
In his Psychology Today blog, Life as a Bilingual, Grosjean goes on to verify that the accents of late bilinguals – those of us who didn’t acquire more than one language simultaneously – can reappear or get stronger in emotionally charged situations.
His post, called “Emotions in More than One Language”, refutes the common belief that we revert back to our mother tongue in emotional situations, explaining that each case is different, depending on our past experiences with that emotion.
During intense moments, he says, we use whichever language – or a combination – that we feel most comfortable with. Some of us, for example, express love or affection more freely in the language we acquired later in life, while others may use it for cussing.
Scrambled words
The other day, Alice Eppinga’s Greek neighbor was felling a beautiful oak tree in a nearby empty lot.
“I lost it,” Eppinga says. “The words were all there but came out upside down, in my horror that anyone could commit such an act.” Specifically, when distressed, she interchanges her Greek syllables.
Yet, the American persists. “Such situations don’t make me want to speak English,” says Eppinga, who moved to Greece in 1968.
She adds: “I am aware, however, that when I get angry in Greek, I often use words or expressions that are not the right register.” So, she finds herself dropping down to very informal, sometimes even inappropriate, language.
Fellow American Dolores Protagoras also reverts to vernacular Greek when upset.
“I’m more likely to use colloquialisms,” Protagoras says.
She moved to Greece in 1984 as a heritage repatriate and would prefer to speak in English when disturbed, including driving altercations and instances of queue-jumping.
“At such moments, I realize that my attitudes are different from those of the environment.
Lost irony
Like the other interviewees (and me), she later goes over zealous exchanges in her head, saying: “I aspire to a cool ironic response which doesn’t come to mind when I’m angry.”
In the same vein, Briton Roger House would also rather speak English when distraught. “Irony is more difficult in a second language,” he says.
Clarity is also an issue. After some clashes, House, who moved here in 1993, sometimes checks with native speakers to see if he’s made himself clear in Greek.
“I have even sometimes found myself preparing what to say in advance of an emotionally charged incident occurring – like having an imaginary conversation,” he says, adding: “I think it boils down to the fear of not being properly understood.”
Unlike those of us who get blocked, scrambled or overly familiar when using agitated Greek, House becomes more measured and precise, which works to his advantage.
“Native speakers of any language don’t think twice before they speak,” he notes, “which probably causes even more upset.”
Kathryn Lukey-Coutsocostas is an Athens-based, Canadian Greek (by marriage) writer and a transnational of some 30-odd years