I Can’t Not Use It

How come it’s ”insufferable” but not “unsufferable”? Why is “irregardless” an accepted word? Is it “sneaked in or snuck”? Who actually says “tomato” instead of “tomato” (You know what I mean)?

The root of it all

I’m sure I’m not the only one who read a lot growing up. However, all that exposure to the written language, vocabulary, and different styles of writing didn’t exactly include a dictionary. Believe me, I’ve tried reading it before, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t exactly fruitful. You see, the written word is exactly that: written. If you come across a new word that seems difficult to pronounce, you don’t exactly get to hear what it sounds like unless you ask somebody to help you. And honestly, when you get in the flow of reading, do you really want to stop just to ask?

That all changed when I entered high school.

In my first year, I remember how fascinating it was to learn that much of the English language is borrowed from other countries and that many of the words we know now are based on a dead language — Latin. Latin roots, prefixes, and suffixes particularly drew my interest, and I’ve always chuckled to myself about how I was most interested in English because of Latin.

It was also then I realized that I wanted to pursue a career in English.

Not an English teacher

Now, mind you, I didn’t want to be a teacher; I just wanted to be surrounded by words and books, and I wanted the opportunity to learn more about language. That interest stayed with me all through high school, and I was determined to be an English major.. My favorite one-liner was, “I’m an English major, not a dictionary.” Throughout college, my interest in language continued to grow, and I studied Japanese while learning to teach English as a second oral language. There was also a hot moment when I learned the Korean alphabet (Hangul).

Ironically, I even became a teacher assistant in Japan.

With the help of  my students and the teachers outside the English department, I came to realize that the English language was just a mess.

A stack of older-looking books with an apple perched on top.
(Image courtesy of Ylanite Koppens on Pexels)

Which homophone is the correct word to use? What do these idioms mean? How come there’s a specific order for adjectives? Why is it that when you affix a word (like compile), it’s pronounced differently from the original word (like compilation)? Homonyms? Now they’re just plain rude.

Yet, I pursued the language. I studied linguistics. I bought books to better understand grammar.I researched the same words over and over just so I could confidently explain their meaning to somebody who was trying to understand English themselves. To be honest, though, I still don’t quite know how to use adverbs correctly. But Hangul did come in handy when I was trying to show students how to pronounce English words correctly.

A lifetime within three years

Of the hundreds of students I’ve taught over three years, I’d say about 92% didn’t want to learn, whether from me or in general. Maybe about 6% were interested passively, and the last 2% were genuinely interested in a second language. Learning English helped them open up new opportunities, leave their hometown, and understand something outside their routine lives.

There’s one student, a bright young man, who I think about fondly. He took to the lessons – and my dumb games – with actual interest. I was fortunate to have taught him from his first year through his third year. Then, summer vacation rolled around after graduation, and the new semester started. It wasn’t until then that I learned he went to Hawai’i with his family for vacation and was involved in a tragic accident.

A small part of me thought that I helped cultivate his interest in the language, that I contributed just a small part to his confidence in English, and that it was just enough for him and his family to travel abroad. I may have forgotten his name (a terrible flaw I am truly ashamed of), but I can still picture his face perfectly. I know it’s not something I should hold myself accountable for, that it’s unreasonable to blame anyone for what had happened. Instead, I choose to be grateful that I had the chance to be a positive influence in his life.

A page from a textbook showing the phonetic notations of a group of words.
(Image courtesy of Nothing Ahead on Pexels)

Me, my professor, and English

Truthfully, English is my second language, but it’s become my primary language. Studying it has broadened my horizons, deepened my appreciation and understanding of it, and allowed me to connect with people who also truly wanted to learn. I’d like to thank my grammar professor in college, who helped spark that motivation in me to better understand English. She fled North Korea, taught herself English, and is now teaching native English speakers how to better understand and dissect the innate understanding we have of the language – such as why we know to say “jump into the pool” and not “jump onto the pool.”

I still love to learn, and I’m best working behind the scenes rather than in front of students, teaching. That spark I felt nearly two decades ago still remains to this day.

And for the record, I personally say ‘toe-mae-toe.’

When the World Stopped, I Kept Going

I sat in my bedroom, recovering from the flu, not knowing what would happen later that day. It was March 12, 2020.

I had planned to return to school the next day. Two text messages received in the afternoon changed that plan. The first was from a classmate, sharing that our teacher said that we wouldn’t have school the next day or the following Monday. A bit confused, I guessed it was due to the flu going around. A few hours later, my boyfriend texted, informing me that he heard about school being canceled for the next two weeks. Later, he sent an update. School will be canceled for the rest of the school year due to the virus, COVID-19.

Anxiety kicked in, and I blamed myself for the school closing even though there had been no confirmed cases in my county. I was worried that others would hold me accountable, thinking that maybe they believed that I was the reason school was canceled. Based on my symptoms – a cold made worse by asthma – my tendency to internalize things led me to rumination. Would my peers suppose that my absence and being sick could be COVID? Would they think I caused our school to shut down?

A blue face mask next to a bottle of hand sanitizer.
(Image courtesy of Tai’s Captures via Unsplash.)

Unwelcome changes

I would soon have more things about which to worry.

A few days after the schools in our state closed, my grandmother’s assisted living facility stopped allowing any visitors per the state’s COVID guidelines. Two weeks later, the facility’s staff began allowing residents’ families to speak to them through the window. My mother, aunt, and I held up signs outside, showing our support to grandma Hud. In April, however, we lost Hud to an accident that occurred at the facility. My heart felt like it had been slowly ripped from my chest. Hud meant everything to me, a constant source of support in my life.

I was already mourning the loss of my grandfather, Grampy, when Hud passed away. Grampy had passed five months earlier from stage 4 brain cancer. Navigating this grief through a pandemic and as a high school student was agonizing, but I numbed myself to the pain. I was confined with my parents in our home, and the only way that I got through it was because of my friends, my boyfriend, and the Nintendo game Animal Crossing: New Horizons. It gave me something to focus on, as well as a sense of control. It distracted me and was calming. It was a temporary, and much needed, escape.

Depression, dissociation, and emotional survival

Around May, I was in a free cosmetology program. The instructor was a hair stylist who attempted to teach the class over Zoom, but it wasn’t the same as in-person schooling. My parents didn’t want to be used as models, so I resorted to practicing cutting hair on my Pug, Luna. She wasn’t a very good client. Focusing on the course became more challenging with all of the changes I faced.

Parisian-style braid on a woman with ginger hair.
(Image courtesy of jagadshd via Unsplash.)

A few months before the pandemic began, I had begun to have episodes in cosmetology classes where I would lose track of time and couldn’t focus. I didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe there was just too much of my mind, too many things to worry about. There were several times in class where I thought only a short time had passed, but it had actually been 20 minutes. I tried to snap out of it, but the dissociative spells consumed me. I wouldn’t measure out the right amount of heat protection spray to use with flat irons. I’d begin the task of flat ironing a mannequin’s hair and then dissociate in the middle of it. There were a few times where I ended up leaving the iron on the countertop and didn’t finish the task. 

Each time, I’d feel like I was on a lazy river, slowly swaying back and forth, feeling the ripples of reality touch my feet. My mind was blank, occasionally punctuated by sadness and grief. I didn’t understand what was going on, and it worried me.

There was no internal script during these moments, which was rare for me. For as long as I can recall, my mind has raced with thoughts that I cannot contain. My brain is a hamster that is spinning rapidly on a wheel to nowhere. I was unaware that I was dissociating in front of others, and what the cause of it was. I would later learn that I was developing PTSD from abuse (inflicted by an ex-partner). 

Being away from friends and others due to the pandemic worsened these experiences. Despite having my parents and dogs around, I longed for more social connection. The lack of social support led to more and more dissociative spells, and I withdrew myself from others even more as a result.

A difficult, but right, decision

Before COVID, I was already struggling to keep up with my classmates in terms of technique and efficiency. Because of how the virtual schooling and isolation impacted my ability to learn, I found it difficult to keep up with my peers. I hadn’t taken into consideration that my hand-eye coordination skills weren’t very strong, and the inability to practice in person with a teacher meant I fell behind even more. Several people in my class were able to perfect their techniques soon after it was demonstrated to them. A lot of them were being considered for internships for the following year, while I could barely get everything on my list accomplished in one class period. In a time when I should have been able to receive extra emotional support from my grandparents, I couldn’t. 

The grief consumed me, and I moved into survival mode. The lack of socialization and support gave me more time to reflect on whether cosmetology was right for me. As time went on, I became less convinced that it was. Eventually, I decided to drop out of the free program. 

It was a difficult decision, but I knew that it was the best outcome for me. That choice allowed me to spend more time with my boyfriend during our senior year, where hybrid learning meant that we attended school in person three out of five days a week. The additional social interaction supported my wellbeing and helped me feel better about the decision to drop the course. If I had chosen to remain in cosmetology, I would have had one or two days on the main campus and the rest at the technical center, and I wouldn’t have been able to interact with my friends or boyfriend as often. 

Feeling a sense of support and familiarity was essential, particularly when socialization was rare, and learning was mostly independent. Thinking back to this time, I cannot see myself staying in a field that I didn’t truly enjoy. Although my choice to drop the course led to attending college — and student loan debt — the knowledge I gained and the networking connections I built more than made up for what I might have gained had I continued with cosmetology.

These events, like everything in our lives, are all interconnected, a web expanding outward in hundreds of directions. Our trajectory changes as we adapt to different circumstances, events. I learned it was okay to not know what I wanted to pursue or to switch even though I didn’t know what the outcome would be. I reminded myself that I had an abundance of time to find the right answer for me, and that’s led me to where I am today. 

And from where I’m sitting, I’m pretty happy with those choices.