One of the problems aired from time to time in these pages by business people is our lack of linguistic ability. We are weak in languages other than English, as if unaware that some fluency in a second, third or fourth tongue could help sell our goods abroad. Somehow we have come to believe that "sure, everyone understands English." Well, that's just not true, writes Deasún Breatnach
How should we go about solving this problem? One clue to the solution can be seen among our immigrant youth, many of whom already know three or more languages from their countries of origin. One tongue helps in the learning of a second. Two, three and we are away in a hack. So I suggest a serious attempt to have Irish taught properly in the schools - and also English, particularly grammar. Both measures would help broaden our perspective. That done, more students might be persuaded to study French, German, Italian and Spanish.
I have seen the proof in my own family - a daughter and five sons. they have Irish and Spanish from the cradle (I married in Spain) and English from the street. All have since added at least one additional tongue to their store, and a few of them many more.
A family linguistically gifted? That cliché is often thrown at us. The fact is that everyone who can speak and hear can learn any language at any age, given opportunity, inclination, necessity and usage. You must stay in practice.
The best time to learn is from babyhood to about seven years. Take a close look at how babies learn to communicate: at first they listen to their elders and watch them carefully, looking at the mouth, the lips, at all your reactions, and when ready they copy them. Your key words have to be repeated again and again and eventually the child repeats them and there is great happiness all around.
On my first days in Spain in the late 1940s I had only a few words of the language, those to be found in Western stories, or heard on radio, the likes of manana, adiós, olé, senor.
In my first residence in Madrid my bean a'tí was from Luxembourg and, as I had honours French from school and was happy to use it, my progress in learning Spanish was slow. It was not until I had to leave Madrid for another part of the country as part of my job that I made progress because I just had to.
Within three months I had a fair fluency, beginning by learning the names of things I needed, then putting them together in phrases, being corrected by an increasing circle of friends.
It was only when I had something of a grasp of the Castilian language that I turned to grammar and syntax and, later still, to literature - the prose of Cervantes, the poetry of Lorca and Machado, and the plays of Benavente.
By the time our first child was born we had decided that my wife would speak Spanish to him, and I Irish. All I had in those days was "school Irish" and, as my son grew in size and curiosity (Céard é sin? Céard é seo?) I had to keep pace as best I could, thanks to An Duinníneach's book of words. By this time we were living in North Africa, I working for RCA Radio Communications
Tangier was an international city in Morocco, as a result of the Treaty of Algeciras in the early 20th century. The dominant tongues were Arabic and Spanish but with French a close third, some Italian, and English trailing behind.
The milkman spoke Arabic and his own Berber tongue. His product was milked on the doorstep from his herd of goats. We had to learn the numerals in Arabic to let him know how many litres we required: Uathad? Juus? Teleta?
Bread, vegetables and fruit were sold in the market place by the mountainy Berber women, their arms loaded with gold bangles: Beidas meant eggs; hobs was bread. Uathad sayna beidas was "a dozen eggs," and barak a laoufik was "thank you."
We followed our old learning system with success: First individual words, later the phrases, and we got there. Necessity made sure of that!
When our first son had reached early school age we had a problem. Should we decide to remain longer in Tangier we had at least three obvious school language choices: Arabic, Spanish, French. But we decided to return to my homeland. There we had to organise with other parents to get a local Irish-medium primary school started, firstly by breaking down State and Church opposition. We wanted it open to all religions; and the State, despite the propaganda, was quite anti-Irish in those days of the early 1950s.
We were fortunate in finding a location for the school, Scoil Lorcáin, in Blackrock town hall. It was the first of the Gailscoileanna. Later it moved to its present address in Monkstown, then Co Bhaile Átha Cliath, now Co Dhún Laoghaire- Ráth an Dúin.
There is still a lot of State opposition to Gaelscoileanna but nowadays all the Churches seem to approve. So, as my children reached the appropriate time, all attended Scoil Lorcáin.
Getting an all-Irish secondary school started in the area was a problem that came later. With a few other parents I had a hand in founding Coláiste Cualann which, alas, failed, despite its excellence. It was quite a while until Coláiste Eoin and Coláiste Íosagáin were founded in the Stillorgan area, thanks to the generosity of religious orders.
As in my youth, French seems today to be the preference as the third language taught in Irish secondary schools. It has given me much pleasure and has been useful in both Morocco and Switzerland. But could not room be found also at secondary level for Spanish, elements of which have parallels in Irish - the obvious ones, perhaps, being that the Irish is and tá are virtually similar to the Spanish es and estar?
Those readers who are with me so far may wish to inquire as to the success or otherwise of my language restoration efforts. Of our 10 grandchildren, eight have good Irish, and one has good Spanish; all have good English. We have but one great-grandchild, Aoife, God bless her, about to begin her primary school education, with Irish and English from the cradle, and a desire to learn Spanish from Abuela, as she calls my wife (it should be Bisabuela, of course), echoing her mother. Agus go n-éirí go seoigh léi.