The Inconvenient Truth of Helping Friends Learning Languages

I’ve already been through their mistakes and yet...

Image created by me with DALL-E 3

I’ve been learning languages for more than 15 years. I’ve made every error new learners make and more, from relying on Duolingo-like apps, to learning wordlists.

I’ve also made most errors not-so-new learners make, like spending hours on boring Anki decks killing my drive or studying words I never cared for but was told were important.¹

I won’t say I’m a pro who knows everything, but I sure am quite qualified to tell when someone’s doing something clearly slowing down their own progress.

And a friend recently reminded me of how frustrating this can be.

A frustrating experience

As a French person who’s lived most of his adult life abroad, most of my friends speak at least one extra language (usually English) and often two² to a certain extent.

Some have reached impressive levels of fluency many dream of attaining one day. Some can hold basic conversations and are happy with that.

One French friend I recently saw speaks English and Japanese to a pretty good level—neither perfect but both well-enough to be able to live in either language if need be.

While visiting me in Korea for a few weeks, he decided to learn the basics and practice. His process, while not completely counter-productive, was one of someone ignoring the tools in their toolbox.

As he speaks Japanese, the easiest way to understand Korean is to compare it with Japanese but he refused to do that and kept comparing words to their French counterparts—which sound nothing like Korean—therefore overlooking the power of laddering he could have used in combination with Japanese.

That’s not all.

He had learned the Hangeul script on his way and had created an Anki deck with single words, forgoing the usefulness of learning sentences instead. One of these words was 눈 (nun). As he was trying to remember it, he looked at me and asked what it meant.

I had to say I didn’t know. Well, I did know but I couldn’t give him the answer.

The word 눈 has two unrelated meanings: eye and snow. Without context, I had no way of knowing which he had written.³

His next word was 어느 (eoneu), which he had written as meaning “quel” (which) in French. While not wrong, it’s also “lequel” (which one). Does he need to know this? No. But could he have made it easier for him by comparing it to the Japanese equivalent どっち (docchi) that he already knows? Yes.

The lack of context in his sentences made each both harder to answer (and, more importantly, remember), and somewhat not exactly correct.

As we walked around, he asked me questions about words or sentences in Korean and I’d respond, explaining what he had asked but he often stopped me saying it was “too much.”

I remember telling him at one point that 실 (sil, pronounced “shil”) was the same as the Japanese 室 (shitsu) which means “room.” Knowing this, he could instantly recognize—like he does in Japanese—that anything finishing with this would be a room, such as 화장실 or 사무실.

It’s a tiny detail that could have helped him and, even if he didn’t focus on learning it now, it’s still information that’ll be in his subconscious later on and easier to remember the next time around.

Basically, my goal was to—at least—plant a seed.

Helping him with spacing information.

Habits don’t change during conversations

This is one example but I’ve had similar experiences with friends and acquaintances countless times. I’ve even had people ask me for advice and respond,

Oh, no, but you’re different. I can’t do that.

I’ve even referred to research proving some of the things I told my friends only to have these points turned down because “they don’t apply to me.”

This made me realize something.

We rarely choose to change our habits in the middle of conversations.

Instead, we’ll sit down and find online a random YouTuber or blogger telling us the exact same thing our friend told us. That’s when we’ll have the lightbulb go off and decide to modify our habits.

I’ve done this at work too when a colleague many years ago gave me a piece of advice to improve a process and ignored it until I read it online later.

In a way, I get it.

When a friend helps us, we usually trust them but also know some of their flaws. We don’t see them as perfect. When we read or watch something online, it comes from someone we don’t know personally. Not knowing their flaws makes it easier to trust, especially if they’ve got a big following or a nice setup.

Knowledgeable friends should be easier to trust but they often don’t get heard.

I wouldn’t change it for the world

This all might sound quite negative but the truth is, I wouldn’t change a thing now. It sure is frustrating when friends ignore or turn down what I consider useful advice.

But they don’t all do this. Some friends have listened. Some have thanked me later too.

The frustration some make me feel is worth the others’ thankful eyes.

And, hey, whether they like it or not, the ones who have ignored my piece of advice still did hear me. In a way, I’ve primed them to be ready for the next time they get the same advice again somewhere else.

And maybe, just maybe, they’ll stop working against themselves that time around.

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Have you had this experience before of being ignored on something you know you could help? How did you deal with it? Or did you succeed in changing the other’s mind? Let me know!

Cheers for reading!
Mathias,
An average polyglot

1. All of which are long happily forgotten now

2. The second is often Japanese, although quite a few speak Mandarin instead.

3. Especially considering his previous words were random: waiter, chair, shop, etc.