Cian's bilingualism

The following is an article I wrote for a newsletter published by a group that promotes bilingualism here in Japan. By the standards of this blog it is a long read so feel free to wander off at anytime for a cup of tea and a lie down. 

Incidentally, the word hoikusho is the Japanese for 'nursery school'. It's pronounced as 'blrrghhzzztgg', though the middle 't' is silent and the final 'gg' is actually an extended diphtong with a fricative stop. Just so you know.

Tús maith, leath na hoibre

(A good start is half the work)

 When I arrived in Japan in 1998, I had a plan. This involved spending a year on the JET Program, saving my money and subsequently heading off on an extended tour of the central Asian hinterlands where I would bring democracy and Irish drinking games to the blighted masses. My plan did not involve becoming a husband, a father, a permanent resident and a mortgage holder. Yet, here I am, almost 14 years later, still in Japan and all of these things, while the put-upon peoples of central Asia still suffer from despotic rule and joyless drinking sessions.

For my younger self, fatherhood, although never explicitly planned, was always a hazy possibility; being the father of a Japanese-English bilingual child was, back then, beyond improbable - trekking amidst the stunning splendor of the Tien Shan mountain range seemed much more likely than walking my son to the local hoikusho. Now though, I find that Cian’s (5;1) emerging bilingual and bicultural identity is among the most important features of our father-son relationship.

Nothing prepared me for this relationship. There is no history of bilingualism in either my or my Japanese wife’s families. Ostensibly, Irish people should be bilingual - we are officially a bilingual nation with both the Irish and English languages enshrined in our constitution. In school learning Irish is mandatory until the end of compulsory education at the age of 15. Yet, the lack of any communicative need for the language means that upon completion of schooling, the acquired Irish quickly fades away, leaving behind only the cupla focail (couple of words) used mainly for ceremonial occasions.

As a far-flung exile I now regret not having strived harder to retain my Irish, for in this part of world where all English speakers are by collective default regarded as Americans, it is an important mark of linguistic and cultural distinction. There is more to Ireland than Irish bars and U2 stadium rock. My fear is that it will only be these surface elements of Irishness, the Guinness and the ‘Where the streets have no name’, that will become Cian’s interpretations of his father’s heritage.

But perhaps my fears will be misplaced. I am only 5 years into this and though the road ahead is undoubtedly long and daunting (as the accounts of other contributors to this column repeatedly show), the signs so far are modestly encouraging. Like most parents, I hope for an equitable balance in Cian’s two languages; while it would be nice to achieve something close to 50:50, his day to day life in Japan makes a 60:40 ratio in favor of Japanese seem to be the more realistic outcome. At the time of writing I think Cian has achieved this and would it put it down to the following factors:

(1) Our family language policy. Both my wife and I work, which means that Cian spends his weekdays from morning till night in the local hoikusho. This in turn means that approximately 80% of his waking time is spent in a Japanese language environment. I try to fill the remaining 20% of his day with as much English as possible and I must acknowledge the very generous contribution of my wife who tirelessly accedes to my requests (badgering?) to speak English at home.

Unfortunately, the dominance of English at home is slowly being chipped away in what I would describe as a natural process of attrition. At his age, Cian is continuously processing a huge amount of information as he tries to make sense of the world around him and his part in it. Most of this information is being delivered in Japanese and this in turn demands an ongoing development of this language in order to aid his comprehension. This is not to say that his English language ability doesn’t contribute. It is, however, unable to match the linguistic depth and complexity of his Japanese, with the result that his comprehension in English is somewhat diminished. Thus, while I get asked lots of ‘why’ questions in English (“Why, Daddy, do the streets have no name?”), it more often than not takes his mother’s Japanese translation of my answer to help him fully understand it.

This leads me to (2), the quality and quantity of his input in both languages. Although the hallowed one-language-one-parent approach is usually recommended for a bilingual marriage like ours, I have always considered this to be marital advice for preemptively avoiding a bilingual version of ‘men are from Mars, 女性は金星から’ disputes, rather than sound linguistic policy. Input is the key to any form of language development, be it mono- or multilingual, and to my mind it basically comes down to the more the better. In Cian’s case this manifests itself not just in the aforementioned English language home, but also in his entertainment options. All television, DVD and YouTube viewing is in English (most of it, God forgive me, courtesy of the Disney channel); our sacrosanct ‘books before bedtime’ routine includes only English books; Skype conversations with family and friends are all in English (though it does take the promise of some Japanese oyatsu before he will speak with his Nana and Dada back in Ireland). Even family holidays are planned with English in mind; for example, the availability of cheap, direct flights from Sapporo means that Hong Kong wins out over Okinawa (though I suspect the presence of both countless shopping malls and Disneyland may also play a part).

So far my wife and I have foregone what I would term 'explicit' learning. My son has developed a great love for picture storybooks and can't seem to get enough of 'Mabel the Cable Car' or the 'Alfie' stories. Phonics, on the other hand, leaves him utterly indifferent; the Dr. Seuss books, for instance, never took hold, as the emphasis on sounds seemed to conflict with Cian's desire for a vocabulary-rich, discernible narrative. My guiding principle towards rearing Cian as a bilingual is motivating him to learn the language; I would like to continue to cultivate within him a desire to learn, to communicate, and to experience the world in two languages. He reads books with me because he wants to, not because I insist upon it.

This may well change; indeed, it may well have to change with the imminent start of our literacy programme. Listening to a story is fun – learning to read and write less so. It takes dedication, hard work and time, lots of time. It also takes a teacher. Whereas he will get a professionally trained and experienced teacher in Japanese at his future elementary school, for English he will have me, his Daddy. And therein, I suspect, lies a potential problem.

In elementary school, the nature of formal education, particularly the student-teacher relationship and the inevitable exertion of peer pressure, will (hopefully) ensure that Cian applies himself to his studies. At home, however, he will have me as a teacher and, if his TV viewing habits are anything to go by, Curious George as his peer. This is not an ideal situation for Cian’s English education or my self-esteem, as being continuously overlooked in favor of an animated monkey is a tad dispiriting.

On the subject of peer pressure, what has proven pleasantly surprising is that Cian’s bilingualism has been an unexpected source of peer pressure on his classmates at his hoikusho. His ability to speak effortlessly in both Japanese and English has been deemed kakkoii by his teachers, his friends and his friends’ parents, with the result that a number of his classmates have started learning English. Thus, when I pick Cian up in the evening I am met by Aika-chan singing the ABC song, Ryota-kun showing me a mikan and saying ‘orange’, while Kazuki-kun informs me that ‘today is snowy’. (Much as I would like to ascribe all this enthusiasm to my son’s bilingualism, I have to recognize that much of it is due to the valorization of English within Japanese society. Cian’s classmates include a Chinese boy and an Indonesian girl, yet to the best of my knowledge there are no shouts of nihao or selamat sore when their parents come to collect them.)

As more experienced parents can surely testify, peers are the key to so much of a child’s learning. If his best friend Odai-kun is doing it, Cian wants to do it too, even if this involves running across the snow-covered car park of the local ski hill in his bare feet (as happened last Sunday). For their shared language of Japanese, this is no problem. For English though, the peer effect has to be artificially constructed, be it through tentative Skype conversations with his same-aged cousins in Ireland, or occasional play dates with children from the other (two) bilingual families in our town.

The weakness of these approaches is that they are contrived; Cian isn’t inherently motivated to undertake them, as they are not a natural part of his day-to-day life. When he goes back to Ireland and plays with his cousins, then the desire to communicate naturally brings forth his English; when he is on Skype, the conversation lacks context and becomes stilted, usually abandoned by both sides after a few indifferent minutes.

Seeing this has made me realize the importance of putting Cian in an environment where he is motivated to use his English. So far we have managed to make a yearly trip back to Ireland, usually for two to three weeks’ duration. Each time his English ability, particularly the complexity and length of his speaking and the richness of his vocabulary, has soared. (Mind you, some of the vocabulary he learned courtesy of his grandfather was, perhaps, not strictly necessary: “Good Jaysus”, “Feck”, “He’s full of shite”, and Cian’s current favorite, “Yer man’s an arse”).

This leads me on to my next point: the cost of raising a bilingual child. It is something that I always think gets glossed over in these kinds of articles, but there is no avoiding the uncomfortable fact that raising a child to be bilingual is expensive. The English language storybooks, DVDs, supplemental learning materials, flights home, trips to see U2 live at the Saitama Super Arena, etc., have all added up, and Cian is still only five. The future may well hold extended stays back in Ireland to attend elementary school, correspondence courses, private high schooling, and perhaps (if I am not tempting fate too much), university overseas, too. All these extras are on top of what his nominally ‘free’ education will cost him here in Japan. My fear is that we may reach penury before Cian achieves full bilingualism.

We will manage the costs one way or another, but the decision as to whether or not Cian becomes fully bilingual ultimately rests with him. Such incipient independence has already come to manifest itself in how and where he uses his two languages, and to whom. Here in Japan he will pretty much only talk to me in English, everybody else, as they are Japanese, are addressed in that language. Once outside of the country, however, he will only speak English, including to his mother (and this holds for countries where English isn’t spoken, too). He conceives of his two languages as operationally and geographically distinct. My hope is that he will come to realize that such a clear-cut distinction isn’t really necessary.

I previously described Cian’s emerging bilingual/bicultural identity as one of the most important features of our relationship, but I don’t want it to become the defining feature. He is, first and foremost, my son; all else follows from that. I am doing my best to encourage and cultivate his bilingualism, and false modesty aside, I think we have made a good start and that is indeed ‘leath na hoibre’. How far he will fully develop this aspect of his life is for him to decide. He could end up being Bono’s co-lyricist (and Lord knows, Bono could do with the help), or he may become an avid fan of the umpteenth incarnation of AK48, but, either way, I will respect his decision. For as much as I hope for a bilingual/bicultural future for Cian, it is his future and his to live.