Its been an often reflected on fact that when I came to Armenia about a year and a half ago my Armenian was poor at best. My entire vocabulary could probably have been recorded on two 8.5 x 11 sheets of paper.

Entering the Kevorkian Seminary was challenging for a number of reasons, not the least of which was my inability to understand most of what was being taught in my classes. Naturally, over time, my Armenian improved. I took private lessons for a number of months, and when my schedule couldn’t allow for them any longer, I studied on my own time. By the time last year’s courses were finished, my Armenian had improved considerably. I was able to give all of my exams (most of them were oral) in Armenian, and I received respectable marks.

This year one of the courses I’ve been taking in the seminary is Armenian Language. This would be the equivalent to a English 101 class back home. It covers spelling, grammar, punctuation, and creative writing. Its worth noting that spelling and grammar were never a strong point of mine in the English language, so developing skills in Armenian has been equally challenging.

I’ve enjoyed this course. Its widened my vocabulary by forcing me to speak and write about topics that I never would in my theologically or ritualistically focused classes. One of the things thats been most interesting about this course has been comparing and contrasting my writing assignments with the other students.

Just different

I’m able to construct lucid, grammatically correct pros in Armenian now, however the style and nature of the underlying ideas in my writing varies widely from the other students. The professor often comments on this, and how interesting it is that without being conscious of it, my background renders my perspective of the world far different from my local Armenian peers.

To offer an example, we were recently asked to write a description of Lake Sevan. Out of the 20 students in the class I was the only one that offered a description of the well known Armenian landmark in the Winter, while the others all described it set in the Summer sun. It had apparently never occurred to them to describe it in the Winter, despite that fact that we are all currently living in Winter conditions. To quote another student, “why would [they] write about what its like in the Winter, when its a nicer place in the Summer?” In my description of the setting sun, I referred to the setting sun as being ruby red. Another student was dumbfounded. How could the sun be red like a ruby? That is just ridiculous.

There are at least a dozen other examples, and I’ve already grown accustomed to their stunned faces when I finish reading my writing assignments. It just causes me to reflect on how much our worldview is shaped in surprising and unappreciated ways by the culture and language we’re raised in.

Seeing with new eyes

From another perspective, I’m realizing how sometimes I find it difficult to express in English what can often so easily be expressed with beauty and poeticism in Armenian. In this way our language can feed us back, and allows us to see the world with new eyes.

I think this is a wonderful thing, and its proof that we all have so much to gain by reaching outside of our circumstances and emerging ourselves in another’s worldview. Furthermore, its another reason that I extend my utmost respect to all those that have had to really learn and live another language. Its an unparalleled enriching experience.