the observation, or the disorientation and anxiety-producing nature of the language immersion environment
I've realized that I have a lot of anxiety around Hawaiian language immersion. That's clear in the name of this blog. Now, after having applied, attending a pre-acceptance orientation, taking my daughter to an observation, being interviewed, and attending a post-acceptance orientation, I'm starting to be a little less anxious. At least we're in, and that's one thing I no longer have to worry about. We've been deemed worthy. (I don't mean to sound like I am hating on the selection process; this is all just my own issue with always worrying what other people think of me.)
Another part of the anxiety is from the newness of preschool. I'm naturally a socially awkward person, so learning to relate to other parents, other people's children, teachers of my child... I think that's all a little anxiety-producing for me.
And then there's the anxiety that comes from being in a language environment in which I have very limited understanding of what's going on. This became especially clear to me at the observation, which was the first time I visited the school.
During the observation, the teachers addressed the children in Hawaiian. I assumed they were trying to gauge student's knowledge of the language. When we left, they spoke to us in Hawaiian. The school director mentioned a "deer in the headlights" look at a recent orientation, and I thought, "That's probably what I look like all the time in this environment." I understand that that's what immersion is; the handbook says that only Hawaiian should be spoken on school grounds, including by visitors. I understand that exposure is how you learn.
Even for myself, in the few times I've interacted with representatives of the school so far, I've learned vocab. I learned "pololei" means "correct" from the director instructing me to check the roster to see if the information is "pololei." I learned "kinai ahi" from another parent who said that is what he does for a living. I learned that "noho" can be used to refer to where you live as well as to mean "sit" from instructions a teacher gave me and from an icebreaker activity for parents that was designed to expose us to Hawaiian. (Disclaimer: I did not check whether my understanding of these words is
But being in an environment where I can only barely (and sometimes not at all) understand what is happening is very, very disorienting. At the observation, my daughter asked me to read her a book. We went to the reading area, where I was excited to see so many Hawaiian language books. (We have a couple at home and have had trouble finding age-appropriate ones.) When I opened a book to read, I was prepared for my pronunciation to be horrendous, but I thought I could give it a try--and show that I was making an effort! Many of the books, however, just had too many words for me. The books we have at home have one sentence per page; that I can handle. A paragraph on a page is a bit ahead of my speed. I kept telling my daughter, "This ones too hard. Let's find an easier one."
This is not something that would ever be a concern with me for an English book, so I think this was a humbling experience. It made me think about illiterate parents and maybe even immigrant parents whose children are being educated in a language they aren't skilled in.