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Hooar mee daa art er y Guardian er y gherrid. Va’n jees oc mychione shirrey staarey, as anaasoil dy liooar, as by vie lhiam loayrt orroo began. Shoh y chied.
Shoh eh: My languages guilt: am I making the most of my degree?. Ga dy vel mee currit da çhengaghyn, cha nel keim ollooscoillagh ayns çhengaghyn aym, myr shen she smooinaght as tastey t’ayn heese, cha nee keeayl chionnit.
Six months after graduating, I found myself working as a server in the kitchen of a country hotel. I was not even allowed to take orders from customers, such was my meagre role. The only time my language skills came in useful was when the French pastry chef berated me for getting in his way.
The recently departed education secretary, Michael Gove, underlined how important languages are. He said: "There is a slam-dunk case for extending foreign language teaching to children aged five.
Agh myr t’ee soilshaghey magh, ta cooid smoo jeu feddyn staartaghyn nagh vel ‘staartaghyn çhengaghyn’ hene. T’ad gobbraghey ‘sy leigh, argidys, margeeys, soilshaghey magh lioaryn, ny reirey. Cha nel yn ughtar gra nagh vel ad cooie da keimagh çhengey noadyr. Rere y bun-resooney eck, cha nee schlei çhengaghyn ta lhiggey daue geddyn lheid ny staartaghyn – she keim erbee, schleiyn yn-astreeaghey, as dy mennick, prowal obbyr (‘work experience’).
My ta shen feer, cre’n fa dy vel wheesh dy leih cur trimmid er ard-scansh çhengaghyn da farrys ny çheerey, as shassoo er dy vel failleyderyn jeean son sleih as ablid çhengaghyn oc? Nagh vel lheid ny h-obbree jeeaghyn er ny staartaghyn kiart as cooie? Er y laue elley, vel staartaghyn ass towse ry-gheddyn ec yl-hengee gyn keim ayns çhengaghyn?
Dy jarroo, smoo doillee da keimee hengey feddyn staartey (DLHE taabyl E) na keimee oyraghyn elley. Cha nel agh shennaghys, fallsoonys as y leigh ny smessey, as son y chooid smoo, shegin da leighderyn jannoo studeyrts elley roish my nod ad geddyn staartey ‘sy leigh.
I remember that when I graduated, I was faced with a blanket of nothingness; the only options in front of me were the competitive graduate schemes (most of which required that I sit some kind of maths test which I was almost guaranteed to fail), a masters (I'd had enough of studying for the time being), target-hitting sales roles (not for a person who finds it hard to say no), or teaching. None of that appealed. I felt betrayed.
Shoh doilleeid ainjyssagh dou. Er lhiam dy vel politickeyryn, çhynskyleyryn as lheid ny fir vooarey boirey er schlei çhengaghyn ‘sy aght cheddin as caghlaa emshyraght. Dy ghra myr shen: ta ennaghtyn dy liooar oc dy vel ad loayrt er ard er trimmid y doilleeid; t’ad shassoo er dy vel eh lane scanshoil dy vel sleih elley jannoo nyn gooid share dy chaghlaa y chooish; as t’ad jannoo obbyr chowreydagh nish as reesht dys cowraghey magh, “jeeagh, ta mee boirey er y chooish!”. Agh s’goan ass towse dy vel peiagh erbee as cummaght oc jannoo red erbee feeu dy chaghlaa y chooish.
Rere jerkallys, she argid t’ayn son y chooid smoo, er lhiam.
Tarmaynys as çhengaghyn
My ta failleyderyn cur tastey erbee da’n chooish, t’ad er son skimmee yl-hengagh, gyn ourys. Cre’n argane t’ayn? My t’ou dty obbree chadjin, t’eh cooney lhiat dellal rish cliantyn as custymeyryn ass çheeraghyn elley. My t’ou gobbraghey er cooishyn leighoil, t’eh coontey lhiat jannoo conaantyn fondagh marish cliantyn ny lughtyn-dellal elley. My t’ou dellal rish margeeys ny creck reddyn, t’eh cooney lhiat ardjaghey troaryn, shickyraghey studeyryn-ry-heet, tayrn tastey buird scrutee as shaleeyn oc ry-hebbal, as myr shen magh. My she kiarail-chustymeyryn t’ayn, t’eh ny sassey dhyt blandeyragh custymeyryn, feaysley magh doilleeidyn, cosney treisht as myr shen. My she ronsaghey ny shirveishyn-fysseree t’ayn, t’eh lhiggey dhyt toiggal rheamys smoo dy chooid, as myr shen, t’eh ny sassey feddyn fysseree er lheh, chammah’s cummal seose rish y traa t’ayn. My she ym-ysseraght, foddee oo loayrt dy jeeragh rish shirveishtyn-naightey ayns çheeraghyn as çhengaghyn elley; t’eh shaghney çhyndaays mee chiart ny daa-cheayllagh, as reddyn meevaynrey, as share lesh sleih my t’ou cur freggyrt jeeragh daue.
Chammah’s ooilley shen, my ta çhengey elley oc, s’cosoylagh dy vel oo heose rish cooishyn çheumooie jeh Cryss ny Baarle, as foddee oo feddyn magh fys ny caaghyn vondeishagh da’n cholught.
Ny smoo na shen, cha nel neuvondeish erbee ayn! Ta ablidyn elley doillee ny keayrtyn. Ta hene-barrantys jannoo fer toshee mie jeed, as foddee dy vel oo creck ram stoo, ny jannoo conaantyn vondeishagh er y fa shen. Er y laue elley, ta ro-hickyrys ny vun marranys myrgeddin: shimmey tonn eddyr y lhong as y traie. Ta ablid co-earrooderyn slane femoil, agh shegin dhyt ynsaghey reddyn noa dy mennick, as ta shen deyr. Cha nel neuvondeish erbee da skimmee daa-hengagh, goaill rish dy vel Baarle (ny Gaelg, ny çhengey erbee y cholught) ‘laaoil oc.
Gow rish failleyderyn yn ablid shen as ad maynrey. Agh cha nel ad son eeck er e hon.
Er lhiam, er lesh failleyderyn, dy nee “schlei neufondagh” ad çhengaghyn. Shimmey ablid scanshoil elley ta “neufondagh” myrgeddin. Smooinee er schlei “eddyr-phersoonagh” myr sampleyr. T’ou jannoo ymmyd jeu ‘syn obbyr son dy loayrt rish custymeyryn, kiunaghey sleih tra ta doilleeid ayn, tayrn as shickyraghey cliantyn a.r.e. (as son politickaght obbree!) . Agh ta laue foddey ny smoo oc, son shoh yn ablid ta croo coardailys as maynrys ‘sy cholught, as shimmey eiyrtys mie ta geiyrt orroo: creeaght, troaraght, coyrle mie, sharaghey obbraghyn, injillaghey asslaynt obbree, a.r.e. Atreih, cha nod oo towse ad dy mie, ny cur leagh fondagh er lheid yn ablid. Er y fa shen, s’goan dy vel sleih goaill rish, ny cur tastey da rish listal obbree noa (shegin dhyt gra dy vel ad oc, agh quoi ec ta fys?), ny faill er nyn son.
As ablid çhengey myrgeddin. Dy jarroo, she red mie dy vel 20 çhengey ec y skimmee (goaill rish dy vel un cho-hengey eddyr oc!); agh mannagh vel y colught lane churrit da obbraghey eddyrashoonagh, ny cliantyn ass çheeraghyn elley, ny dellal rish ram cooid ayns çhengaghyn joarree, she red mie t’ayn as shen ooilley. Foddee dy bee vondeish echey nish as reesht, agh vondeish beg. Abbyr dy vel y reireyder stoyr-fysseree ny lhee-coonee as teisht eck, ny dy nod y screeudeyr imman lorree. Nee oo shirrey orroo jannoo ymmyd jeh’n ablid shen nish as reesht, foddee, agh cha nee oo cur eh er y chonaant obbree, chamoo eeck da er ny hon agh ny keayrtyn shen.
Co-ennaghtyn marish y jouyl
Cha nel mee jannoo cassid er ny failleyderyn edyr. Mannagh vel çhengaghyn lane femoil da staartey, cha nel eh keeayll dy chur ablid çhengaghyn 'sy choontey staartey. Mannagh vel ablid 'sy choontey staartey, cha nel eh ort jannoo ymmyd jeh, chamoo yiow oo faill er e hon. 'Syn 'eill, t'eh çheet dy ve neuvaghtal; ta taghyrtyn ayn tra nee oo ymmyd jeh'n ablid ga nagh vel eh "femoil", son ta'n ablid ayds as t'eh jannoo ny sassey ny t'ort jannoo eh. Dy jarroo, ta ablidyn ayn s'mie lesh sleih jannoo ymmyd jeu (goaill stiagh çhengaghyn, co-earrooaght, as ellyn dy mennick) son t'ad goaill soylley jeu, as nee ad ymmyd jeu ga nagh vel ad cosney argid lioroo.
Er y laue elley, lhisagh failleyder cur sar-'aill dou er y fa dy vel ablid çhengey aym as dy vel mee jannoo ymmyd jeh 'syn obbyr nish as reesht - ga nagh hirr ad lheid yn ablid as nagh vel eh femoil son jannoo y staartey? Cha nel shen keeall. Ny keayrtyn, my ta ablid çhengey ec yn obbree, ta'n colught çheet dy yerkal rish shen as jannoo ram ymmyd jeh'n ablid shen nagh vel oo faillit er e hon, as t'eh çheet dy ve cramp. Ayns colught traghtee, ta faill so-lhoobagh as yn-argane dy mennick, as myr shen foddee oo aggyrt da'n reireydys dy vel eh orroo cur sur-lhieeney dhyt son yn ablid shen, son tra ghow oo rish yn 'aill aaragh, cha ren eh goaill stiagh yn ablid shen. Ayns commyn y theay, ta corys-faill soit son y chooid smoo, as cha nel ad so-lhoobagh er chor erbee (wahll... son sleih beggey). Dy cadjin, ta ablidyn as obbraghyn kianglt rish keim 'aill; as ny keayrtyn, lhisagh y curmeyder lhiettal uss veih jannoo ymmyd jeh ablid ennagh, er nonney veagh eh orroo y cheim ayd y ardjaghey!
As mish gobbbraghey ayns lioarlann ollooscoillagh, ren mee ram ymmyd jeh ny çhengaghyn aym ga nagh vel mee flaaoil er chor erbee. Shimmey peiagh v'ayn ass yn Ghermaan ny'n Çheen. Dy jarroo, va Baarle yindyssagh oc son y chooid smoo, agh ny yei shen bare lesh kuse jeu loayrt y çhengey ghooie oc marym. Va kuse elley jannoo ronsaghey shallidagh, as cha row Baarle flaaoil oc; myr shen v'eh share çhengey elley y loayrt. Erskyn shen, ta sar-tasht-fockle quaagh ec ollooscoillyn, as ec lioarlannyn, as ec lioarlannyn ollooscoillagh erskyn ooilley. Dy cadjin, cha nel sar-fockle goan ennagh (ny ymmyd er lheh jeh) er enney ec sleih ass çheer elley. Dy jarroo, v'eh doillee dy liooar dauesyn as Baarle ghooie oc, ny keayrtyn! 'Sy chooish shoh, she red mooar eh çhengey elley y loayrt. Dod mish ynsaghey y tasht-fockle cooie 'sy çhengey, as eisht dod mee soilshaghey cooishyn crampey da ymmodee sleih ga nagh row y tasht-fockle shen oc 'sy Vaarle - wahll, derrey dynsee mee ny focklyn daue. Chammah's shen, va lioaryn ayns çhengaghyn elley ain, as myr shen dod mee gobbraghey orroo ny s'tappee na co-obbree elley. Row feme er ny çhengaghyn shen son y staartey aym? Cha row, gyn ourys. Agh er y fa dy vel ad aym, dod mee cur shirveish share da co-obbree as cliantyn? Gyn ourys.
Ta mee er nobbraghey 'sy voayl rish shey bleeantyn. Ta sleih cliaghtit rish yn eie dy vel peiagh ry-gheddyn as y çhengey shoh ny shen aym, tra ta feme oc er cooney er lheh ny tra t'ad jannoo ymmyd jeh lioaryn ayns çhengey joarree. Ny yei shen, as mish er vaagail, cha nee y ben-chione cur stiagh "ablid çhengey" er y rolley tra t'ee shirrey peiagh ynnydagh dou. She leagh neuloaghtagh t'ayn mannagh vel yn ablid shen oc; cha nod oo cur feeu er. Er lhiam, ta caa share daue cur "ablid co-earrooder" er y rolley, son ga nagh row shen femoil da'n staartey hooar mee, ta mee er ngoaill orrym pene shaleeyn co-earrooder rish ny bleeantyn. Gyn yn ablid shen, bee eh orroo scuirr shaleeyn, ny surranse gyn oltscarrey fysseree b'oallagh dou jannoo eh. Shen coayl fondagh as discreadjagh.
Ta cooishyn elley ayn, gyn ourys. S'cooin lhiam dy mie tra hoilshee jantys faillee 'sy valley son screeudeyr: begin da Spaanish as Frangish flaaoil ve echey, chammah's y Vaarle, as cre'n faill hebb ad? Y faill cheddin as y fogrey rish son screeudeyr as Baarle ynrican echey! Cha nel mee shirrey lheid ny focklyn, as cha dod mee feddyn fysseree mie dy tappee, agh er lhiam son y chooid smoo nagh vel ad garral faill share tra t'ad shirrey ablid çhengey ayns staartaghyn cadjin. Vel ad credjal, foddee, dy vel çhengey 'laaoil ny tro neuchramp, ga dy vel ad cur leagh er keim ollooscoillagh ny teisht çhaghnoaylleeagh? Agh er lhiam dy nee colughtyn beggey t'ayn, as ta toiggalys share ec colughtyn yl-heeragh.
Loayrt gyn jannoo
'Syn aght cheddin, ta politickeyryn as failleyrderyn loayrt dy mennick er dolley ablid çhengey ayns ny h-Inshyn Goaldagh. T'ad gra dy vel y dolley shen lhiettal farrys Goaldagh, lhiettal studeyryn Goaldagh veih jannoo studeyrys ass ny çheeraghyn shoh, lhiettal obbree Ghoaldagh veih obbraghey har mooir, lhiettal mestey sheshoil Juanyn Haink Noal, jannoo lhiettrimys er shirveishyn oikoil da Juanyn as çhengaghyn mayrey elley oc, as myr shen magh.
Er y laue elley, c'red t'ad jannoo? Wahll, t'ad giarrey rheynn çhengaghyn 'sy churriglym ashoonagh; t'ad follaghey (ny jannoo sloo jeh) nyn ablid çhengey hene, mannagh nee Ladjyn t'ayn, son ta eie quaagh ayn nagh nee red Goaldagh eh çhengaghyn elley y ve ayd; t'ad craidey mish politickeyryn elley as çhengaghyn joarree oc, myr dy nee cowrey raaue t'ayn dy vel ad cur co-chialg ennagh er bun marish çheer elley; as cha nel ad cur argid da ynsaghey çhengaghyn.
My ta çhengaghyn wheesh scanshoil as shen, c'raad ta'n argid? C'raad ta'n eeckys-listal son faillee yl-hengagh? C'raad ta'n scoillaraght dys cooney lesh obbree hene-haraghey liorish ynsaghey çhengey noa ('sy çheer dooghyssagh, jeh yoin)? C'raad ta shaleeyn dy chur obbree as studeyryn dys çheeraghyn elley son dy foyraghey ablid çhengey - ny eer skeym-coonee dauesyn ta jannoo eh er nyn son hene? C'raad ta ny coryssyn-ynsee sthie ayns colughtyn, ny traenal kied-laa, do nod obbree sharaghey ny h-aghtyn femoil shoh? Cre'n fa nagh vel scoillyn jannoo ymmyd jeh saaseyn ynsaghey thummee dys ynsaghey kemmig 'sy Rooshish? Cre'n fa nagh vel politickeyryn taishbyney yn ablid çhengey ocsyn tra t'ad loayrt rish fir-oik joarree, ny goll er turrys-ronsee - nagh lhisagh ad jannoo mooar jeh'n chaa dy chur magh feeshag voggyssagh? Cre'n fa ta eabyn dy chummal seose çhengaghyn elley ny h-Inshyn Goaldagh hene goll er flout dy mennick? Dy ghra myr shen: cre'n fa nagh vel ny cummaghtee shoh jannoo red erbee dy hickyraghey ny t'ad gra er scansh çhengaghyn joarree?
Leagh as costys ynsee
Ta feanish kionnit aym nagh vel ynsaghey çhengaghyn nastee, mannagh vel oo çheet er kynneeyn daa-hengagh as y lheid. Ta kuse dy 'leih ceau £9th+ er keim; t'ad geddyn vondeish cadjin keim, dy jarroo. Agh cur sooill lhome-ymmydoil er y chooish, she reih moal t'ayn cosoylit rish y leigh, tarmeynys, dellal, maddaght, as ymmodee keimyn elley ta bentyn dy jeeragh rish staartaghyn cadjin sleih as keim hengey yoarree oc. Ta scoill oie deyr dy liooar; ta'n skedjal as ynnyd neuchooie dy cadjin; cha nel brastyllyn mennick dy liooar dy heet my laue dy tappee; as son y chooid smoo, t'ad skellal roish er y cheim veanagh son nagh vel ynseydee dy liooar dy yannoo brastyl ard-choorse.
Ta brastyllyn preevaadjagh beggan gaueagh. She yn aght as smoo bree ynsee echey son y chooid smoo, agh ta'n leagh ard cumrail oo mannagh vel oo lane soit er ynsee. Cha nel reilley quallid erbee er ynseyderyn. She saase ard-vroo t'ayn, gyn vondeish sheshoil lane vrastyl, as myr shen cha nel eh cooie da cagh. Ta persoonid ynseydagh as ynseyder lane scanshoil, as er lhiam dy nee cooish ghoccaragh t'ayn shirrey ynseyder ynnydagh, reaghey brastyl as çheet ny whaiyl. Ta aigh vie aym, as hooar mee ynseyderyn yindyssagh, agh ta caaghyn elley ayn.
Ta reih elley ayn, as shen ny ren mish fy-yerrey: faagail yn staartey aym, as goll harrish y cheayn son studeyryn lane-emshiragh 'sy çheer dooghysagh eck, myr ynsaghey thunnee. Shoh y saase s'troshey, er lhiam, agh shimmey neuvondeish t'ayn. Ta currymyn scanshoil obbree ny persoonagh ec sleih son y chooid smoo, do nagh dod ad faagail. Ta arraghey dys çheer elley cur ram boirey ort, as ta feme er daanys, surranse foddey as schlei reaghee dy yannoo eh. Mannagh nee oo eab mooar dy vestey stiagh 'sy chultoor as y boayl, cha vow oo monney vondeish: t'eh aashagh dy liooar dy gholl lesh y stroo eddrym, as feddyn myn-chultoor eebyrtagh dy vee kionnit stiagh, meanyn ass dty heer hene, as caarjyn ass y çheer cheddin.
As ny bee ourys ort, t'eh deyr agglagh. Ta mee cummal ayns shoh rish shey meeghyn. Goaill stiagh taillaghyn-ynsee, y turrys noon as noal, as yn argid nagh vel mee cosney eh nish (as co-earrooaghey argid beaghee) ta mee ceau mysh £10,000 er yn eie shoh. Dy firrinagh, cha cosoylagh eh dy nee'm cosney £10,000 'sy traa ry-heet nagh jinnin er ny chosney gyn çheet gys yn Çhapaan. Cre mysh feddyn staartey liorish ny ta mee dy ynsaghey? Wahll, foddym feddyn staartey myr Baarleyr as beggan Shapaanish aym, agh cha dod mee cosney staartey çhyndaaee ny staartey da fer as Shapaanish echey. Cha nel mee goaill arrys edyr, agh shegin dou gra nagh vel monney niart ec yn argid-baiht shoh son feddyn staartey erbee, gyn çheet er staartey as argid mie echey. Son caa share, veagh eh orrym shirrey staartey imlee 'syn Çhapaan as ynsaghey rish blein ny ghaa elley, ny ceau ny smoo argid foast er son ny smoo studeyrys lane emshiragh.
Ta lhimmey ayn: oddin feddyn staartey fer-ynsee 'syn Çhapaan. Shen keird ghoaiagh dy liooar, agh cur geill da: cha nee ablid Shapaanish y red scanshoil t'ayn, agh ablid Baarle. Ta Shapaanish ymmydoil, gyn ourys, agh shimmey peiagh ta jannoo lheid yn obbyr gyn Shapaanish erbee, hoshiaght.
Ta'n chooid smoo jeh ny Goaldee scuirr jeh studeyrys er çhengaghyn cho leah's nagh vel eh anneydagh, as shegin dou gra dy vel y feanish maroo. S'cosoylagh nagh beagh vondeish feamagh erbee ry-gheddyn oc. Cha nel mooarane dy staartaghyn follym fieau dy surransagh derrey jig sleih as Germaanish, Mandarinish, Arabish, Choctawish, Inuktitutish, ny reih çhengey elley y laa oc. Dy jarroo, cha nel nommey caa ayn eer dy yannoo ymmyd jeu 'syn obbyr. Ga dy vel vondeishyn ry-gheddyn liorish ynsaghey çhengaghyn, she vondeishyn neuloaghtagh ny preevaadjagh t'ayn: mooadaghey yn sheiltynys ayd, toiggal meanyn ass cultooryn elley, lheie lhiettrimyssyn cultooragh ny feddyn caarjyn noa. S'doillee leagh y chur er lheid ny reddyn, as ta feme er hene-ghreesaghey dy yannoo studeyrys er nyn son. Er y laue elley, ta leagh baghtal er Teisht Maddaght: ta failleyderyn shirrey er dy cadjin, as ta feanish ayn dy vel faill meanagh smoo ocsyn as y teisht oc.
Coayl bree
Ta'n skeeal shoh jus çheet gys jerrey gyn feaysley. Er lhiam nagh vel feaysley ry-yannoo, foddee, as nagh dod shin agh loayrt er y chooish. Dy row eh ort cur faill smoo da sleih as çhengaghyn elley oc, s'cosoylagh nagh dod sleih yl-hengaghyn feddyn staartey erbee! As cha dod oo gra dy beagh shen ynrick, gyn jannoo y red cheddin son dagh ooilley ablid, my ta feme er 'sy staartey ny dyn. As ga dy vel ad loayrt, cha nee y lught-reill cur argid son ynsaghey çhengaghyn tra nagh vel feme fondagh ry-akin, dy ghra myr shen, staartaghyn hene gyn sleih dy jannoo oc, ny dellal nagh vel shin cooilleeney eh. Cha lhisagh ad noadyr. Bare lhiam lught-reill ta cur argid raad t'eh ry-laccal.
S'cosoylagh dy vel ny çheeraghyn Goaldagh coayl caaghyn kyndagh rish laccal çhengaghyn, agh er lhiam dy nee "laccal bog" t'ayn. Er lhiam dy vel yn art Economist shoh coardail rhym. Oddagh shin cur shirveish share da custymeyryn; oddagh cochianglaghyn dellal eddyr-heeragh ve ny sassey as yinnagh ad ny smoo dellal 'sy çheer ain; oddagh Goaldee arraghey har mooir ny sassey as feddyn obbyr; veagh bea ny sassey da arragheryn sthie. She arraghyssyn beggey t'ayn, as cha jinnagh ad croo staartey erbee yiarragh oo "ta feme er ablid çhengey son y staartey shoh" myechione. Gyn ourys, veagh tarmaynys share ain dy row ablid çhengaghyn ec cagh. Agh gollrish astan 'sy doarn (myr yiarragh y Bretnagh), my t'ou jannoo eab dy chur baght er mynphoyntyn, bee ad skellal royd.
I found two articles on the Guardian recently, both about job-hunting, both of which were sort of interesting and I wanted to talk about a bit.
The first is My languages guilt: am I making the most of my degree?. I don’t have a languages degree, I just learn languages a lot, so everything below is musing and observation rather than personal experience.
Six months after graduating, I found myself working as a server in the kitchen of a country hotel. I was not even allowed to take orders from customers, such was my meagre role. The only time my language skills came in useful was when the French pastry chef berated me for getting in his way.
The recently departed education secretary, Michael Gove, underlined how important languages are. He said: "There is a slam-dunk case for extending foreign language teaching to children aged five.
But as the writer points out, a majority of language graduates won’t end up working ‘in languages’, as such. They end up in law, finance, marketing, publishing or administrative jobs. The author’s key argument is not that these are unworthy jobs for a language graduate, but that it isn’t language skills that get them the jobs – general graduatehood, some transferrable skills and (often) work experience or interning does the job.
If this is the situation, then why do so many people keep banging on about the vital importance of languages to the economy, and claiming that employers are clamouring for people with language ability? Are we looking at the wrong jobs? Or perhaps, are there loads of jobs out there for polyglots who don't have a language degree?
In fact, language graduates seem to do worse (DLHE table E) at finding jobs than many other graduates, with only history, philosophy and law further behind (lawyers will generally need further training before they can work in their field, boosting the numbers still studying a mere 6 months after graduation).
I remember that when I graduated, I was faced with a blanket of nothingness; the only options in front of me were the competitive graduate schemes (most of which required that I sit some kind of maths test which I was almost guaranteed to fail), a masters (I'd had enough of studying for the time being), target-hitting sales roles (not for a person who finds it hard to say no), or teaching. None of that appealed. I felt betrayed.
I think a lot of the problem here is something I’ve complained about to people before, which is that politicians, captains of industry and other influential figures care about language skills in much the same way they care about, say, climate change. This is to say: they feel strongly enough to regularly talk about how dreadful the situation is, emphasise how important it is that other people do their bit to change the situation, and make occasional gestures to try and impress with their dedication, but it is vanishingly rare for anyone to care strongly enough to actually take any concrete steps that would improve the situation.
A lot of this is, inevitably, money.
It’s the economy, stupid
Employers, if they think about it at all, are broadly in favour of fluently multilingual staff. It would be handy! As a general employee, it enables you to deal conveniently with clients from other countries. If you work in legal stuff, you can help form solid contracts with contractors, clients or employees from other countries. If in marketing or sales, you can push products, attract students, catch the attention of public bodies needing to put projects to tender, and so on. If in customer service, you can put customers at ease or deal with problems more readily, helping to build customer loyalty. If in research or information services, a wider range of material is open to you, both for tracking down information and keeping up with the cutting edge. If you talk to the media, you can present the organisation directly, rather than tolerating what may be dubious, mistaken or skewed translation, and avoid ambiguities or infelicities. It’s also more likely that you consume media or follow developments outside the Anglosphere in your own time, which may mean you learn information or discover opportunities that benefit the company.
Most importantly, there’s no downside! Talents like, say, having amazing self-confidence may make you a great leader, a great sales agent or fantastic at brokering deals with other companies, but it could also mean you make costly mistakes. IT skills are vital, but call for regular retraining and updating. There aren’t really any disadvantages to staff being bilingual, providing only that their English is good enough to deal with their normal work.
Employers will happily take those skills. What they don’t want is to pay for it.
My take is that language skills are mostly seen as a “soft skillset”, like many other of the skills that make people good employees. Let’s take interpersonal skills as an example. Yes, a subset of interpersonal skills are used at work for setting up rapport with customers, smoothing over problems or ensnaring clients (as well as workplace politicking and manipulating), but broad interpersonal skills are what allow workplaces to run harmoniously, thus helping with staff morale, productivity, making constructive suggestions more likely, making it easier to resolve problems, reducing work-related illness, and so on and so forth. However, in most trades you can’t measure or put a value on those skills, and so they are rarely recognised, nor recruited for, nor rewarded.
Language skills are similar. It’s really nice if your staff speak 20 different languages (and have at least one in common), but unless you are specifically a business working with international clients, foreign-language material or aimed at foreign customers, then it’s just a bonus. Possibly a profitable bonus, but a bonus nonetheless. It’s sort of like your database administrator being a qualified paramedic, or the office junior having an HGV licence: a skill you might occasionally ask them to use, but will neither put on their contract, nor regularly pay them for.
Sympathy for the devil
I’m not unsympathetic to the employers here. Unless languages are genuinely vital to a job, it makes no sense to add them to a job description. If the skill isn’t on a job description, then you aren’t obliged to use it, nor will you get paid for it. It gets hazier in practice, because there may be situations arising where you do use those skills, but perhaps it’s not actually essential. In the case of languages, and some other skills (IT or art are prime examples) people will often be delighted when a chance to use them does arise, and won’t avoid them just because they aren’t specifically being paid for it.
On the other hand, it would make no sense for my employer to pay me simply for possessing language skills that they didn’t ask for and don’t particularly need, even if I end up using them sometimes. It’s only really if a job gains a significant language-related workload that things start to get awkward. In some organisations, especially private companies where pay is often flexible (and indeed, argument-based), you can make a case to management that you are using skills not outlined in your job description and should get a pay rise. In public sector organisations with rigid pay scales and job categories, or when promotions aren’t an option, this flexibility often doesn’t exist. You can end up with the ridiculous situation that your boss should actively prevent you from using certain skills, as those are linked to a higher pay scale or even a more senior kind of role.
In practice, working in a university library, I made considerable use of even my meagre language skills. There were a considerable number of readers who speak German or Chinese, and while many of the long-term students were just as happy in English, some seemed to enjoy using their native language with me where possible. Some visiting for a short time, especially visiting academics, did not necessarily have a comfortable grasp of spoken English. Either group didn’t necessarily know all the specialist vocabulary used in libraries: in these cases my languages were a real asset, because one person (me) learning the appropriate terminology once helped out a significant number of clients, and I was able to teach them the English term for future reference. They also came in handy with foreign-language books, which we had a certain number of. Was it essential to my role? Absolutely not. Did it significantly improve the service I could provide to both our clients and my colleagues? Absolutely.
But even with me working there for six years, establishing the idea that certain language skills were available in that library for visitors or to help with work on particular materials, my boss isn't going to add those skills to the person specification for my replacement. The things that are lost by not having those skills in the team are qualitative, soft things. My IT skills are significantly more likely to get a slot on the spec, because as new technical projects turned up I absorbed them as the techiest person around, and without those skills the projects can't be maintained - shutting down a project, or not getting certain data analyses, is a much more concrete loss.
There are of course other cases. I well remember (and frequently recount) the employment agency in my village having signs up advertising for a secretary fluent in both Spanish and French, as well as English: the salary offered was pretty much identical to the adjacent sign for a secretary without those skills. Although I don't exactly go looking for such jobs, and haven't been able to immediately track down solid statistics, my sense has always been that there isn't a notable increase in salary for many jobs that demand language skills. Unlike degrees or technical certification, employers often seem to assume that fluency in languages is just another attribute. I suspect this is generally truer in small-scale businesses, and multinationals may be more enlightened.
Not walking the talk
In a similar vein, politicians and employers regularly talk about the way lack of language skills is limiting the British economy, ability of British students to study overseas, ability of British workers to move overseas, integration efforts, service to immigrants of other linguistic backgrounds, and so on. However, their actions tend to include cutting the role of languages in the curriculum; playing down any linguistic ability they have themselves; using others' linguistic ability as a weapon to imply they are somehow insufficiently British; and signally failing to provide funding for languages.
If languages are so important, where is the money? Where are the recruitment premiums for staff with more than one language? Where are the bursaries to help workers reskill by studying another language, ideally in its native setting? Where are the schemes to send workers or students abroad to hone language skills, or even simply mechanisms to help them arrange it themselves? Where are the in-house training schemes or job-release arrangements that enable employees to boost these invaluable abilities? Why are schools not using full immersion techniques to teach chemistry through the medium of Russian? Why do public figures not show off their language skills in meetings with foreign officials, or vid-ops on fact-finding tours? Why are even attempts to maintain the native languages of the British Isles routinely snubbed? In short, why does nobody do anything that might support the notion that languages are important?
The cost and value of learning
I can say from experience that for most people, outside bilingual families, learning languages is not free. Some take degrees that now cost £9k+, which does bring the benefits of a degree in general, but is pragmatically a poor tradeoff for law, economics, business, mathematics, or many other degrees that tie directly to the fields where many linguists end up working. Evening classes are expensive, often highly inconvenient in timing and location, too occasional to be of great help, and often wink out at higher levels because there aren’t enough students to make the class viable.
Private lessons are a minefield: though generally the most effective option, they are pricey enough to put off all but the most determined linguist; there’s no real quality control on teachers; not every can take the pressure of one-to-one teaching; they lack the social benefits of a classroom; the personality element becomes increasingly important; and it can be quite a stressful experience trying to find a teacher locally, negotiate arrangements and meet them for the first time. I have been immensely lucky to have some excellent private teachers, but that doesn’t mean it’s always true.
The other option is to do what I’ve done: leave a job and move abroad to study a language intensively in a native-language environment. This is probably the most effective option, but it has a lot of drawbacks. Many people simply couldn’t do it because of their commitments elsewhere. It’s very disruptive and requires a lot of nerve, patience and organisation to set up. You have to fight to get yourself integrated somewhat into local habits and society, rather than drifting into a private monoglot world of imported food, media from your own country and expat society.
And of course, it is colossally expensive. My six months here is costing me somewhere in the region of £10,000 – the cost of tuition, plus loss of earnings (adjusted for living costs). Realistically, it is unlikely that I will earn an extra £10,000 as a result of this experience. Will it get me a job? It’s possible that I could find a job as an English speaker with basic Japanese as a result, though I wouldn’t qualify for translation or as a genuine Japanese-speaking contact. I’m not saying I regret doing it, but honestly the jobworthy credentials of this investment are highly dubious. I’d have to either get a low-level job in Japan and work on my language for a few more years, or invest even more in full-time study, to have a better chance.
The exception, of course, is becoming an English teacher in Japan. A perfectly reasonable career choice, but notice that the really crucial point here is not my Japanese, but my English.
Meanwhile, the vast bulk of the British population who don’t pursue languages past the compulsory stage are largely justified in doing so, because they are unlikely to benefit in any practical way. There is no ocean of unfilled jobs just waiting for citizens with German, Mandarin, Arabic, Choctaw, Inuktitut or whatever other language is deemed essential at the moment. There is very little opportunity even to use these skills in a work context. The real benefits that most people see from language studies are fluffy, personal things like expansion of worldview, consuming media from other cultures, breaking down cultural barriers and potentially making new friends. Those are hard to quantify, and require self-motivation, whereas the value of A-level Maths is both widely promoted and can be quantified in average salary terms.
Running out of steam
I’m sort of going to peter out here, because I don’t think this is really the kind of problem that can go anywhere, only get talked about. Certainly I'm not going to offer a magic solution. Somehow enforcing higher rates of pay for language skills would, in most cases, be an expense on employers that made it harder for linguists to get jobs, while there’s no reasonable way to justify it for languages but not for other skills. Governments aren’t really likely to start funding language-learning when there doesn’t actually seem to be any concrete, solid need for it in terms of specific jobs that could be filled, or specific deals that could be done. They probably shouldn't, either; I'd prefer a government to spend money where it's actually needed.
Sadly, I’m pretty sure there are lots of missed economic opportunities because of language shortages, but I think they’re soft shortages. This Economist article seems to broadly agree. Customer experiences that could be a little better. Relationships with overseas firms that might be a little smoother, and lead to small changes in where they choose to make deals or investments. Obstructed flow of workers around the world. Lack of integration. Lots of little things that wouldn’t ever add up to any specific job that could justifiably have “needs language skills” stamped on it. Would a completely multilingual workforce lead to a better economy? Almost certainly. But like an eel in the fist (as the Welsh say), I think any time you try to grasp the specifics, they’ll slip away from you.
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