The problem with learning Hebrew

Okay so this is my biggest problem with Hebrew, one that’s dogged me in for the entire 7 years since I began studying it (wow, that’s a lot of time to have accomplished remarkably little), and since I can’t get any paying work done today (I am recording books for a visually impaired student, my recorder is full, and I am waiting for my boss to track down the software that allows me to transfer the files from the machine onto my computer) I am going to tell you, dear Internet, all about it. What follows is a rant masquerading as an educational post.

In order to really understand Hebrew–not just muddle your way through, but to GET it, and to know WHY weird forms do what they do, and in order to predict any forms at all, you have to understand a good bit about sound rules in Hebrew.

Linguistic background ahoy: Every language has a set of “permitted” and “forbidden” sequences of sounds–that’s why the word “blurg” sounds like it could be a real word, even though Liz Lemon made it up, but “blgur” doesn’t–English doesn’t permit the sequence “blg”. English is super unusual actually in permitting ANY sequences of three consonants–the word “strike” is a word that just wouldn’t happen in, say, Japanese, which (I think I’m right here?) only allows Consonant-Vowel syllables. So when English words get adopted into Japanese, “filler” vowels get added between any two consecutive consonants, so that the loan word will follow Japanese sound rules. Cool stuff.

Sound rules in Hebrew, at least the ones that are relevant for students, are basically vowel rules. Some vowels can’t follow each other. Some vowels don’t like being with gutterals, some vowels don’t like being too far away from the stressed syllable, some vowels don’t like being in an open unstressed syllable (CV is open, CVC is closed). So you have your basic pattern, and then the vowels shift to different vowels when they get into a situation that’s uncomfortable for them. Example: You can’t have two shewas one after the other (the shewa is the short, neutral vowel you make when you say, “uh…”). So when you would, instead the first syllable goes to an “i” and the second drops out. le-nebi’im, “to prophets,” shifts to linbi’im (I’m using e for shewa because I can’t be bothered to figure out how to insert special characters).

The problem is, these vowel shifts and syllable structures and sound rules, etc. are both incredibly basic to the language–necessary for predicting ANY forms and for recognizing most–and really difficult to understand theoretically if you don’t already know something about linguistics. I still remember poor Dr. Perkins, maybe the smartest person I will ever meet, trying to explain the difference between an open and closed syllable to me while I stared at him blankly and nodded, thinking to myself, “Well, I don’t understand it, but how important can it be?” Ahahaha. To a native speaker, not important at all. It’s all intuitive; you KNOW what sounds right and what doesn’t and you don’t need to bother to reason it out. But to someone learning an ancient language, or at least Hebrew, where you run into sound changes all the time, it’s really important.

There are ways around it, of course–I took the route of trying to memorize every weird form instead of learning the patterns that made them all make sense, then just sticking with it long enough that it began to come intuitively. That’s fine, but here I am, seven years later, and I still feel like translating is like trying to shoot ducks in the dark. Maybe the best way would be to give everyone an introductory linguistics course before they started learning the language–but then Hebrew is a language that’s really important to a lot of non-specialists. A lot of the people who want to learn it just don’t care enough about the fundamental structure of the language to take the time, and why should they? I only learned about sound changes by accident, really–my introductory linguistics course was taken to fulfill the requirements for an English degree that would get me into a school of education in Virginia, because I thought I might want to teach English in public schools.

I guess what I’m getting at is that all the textbooks present these basic building-blocks of the language at the beginning of the textbook, usually in an introductory chapter, when it’s highly unlikely for them to sink in–students just don’t have the framework necessary. You have to understand the sound rules to read the language; but you have to have a basic sense of/experience with the language to understand the sound rules.

Good students probably go back and periodically review the sound rules throughout the time that they’re learning the grammar. I did end up doing this with Aramaic this past spring, and it paid off–I understand how Aramaic functions much better now. But I never did with Hebrew (because I’m lazy lazy lazy with languages) and only now am I beginning to realize just how big a mistake was. I may have said this before, but the main difference between what I’m doing now and what I did during high school and undergrad was that, back then, the languages were a hobby, sort of, just for fun (“fun” being a relative term, of course). They didn’t REALLY matter, because I was going to be an actor/writer/English teacher–they were just something on the side. The grades mattered, sort of, but everyone knows that you can still do pretty well without really knowing a language. Now that I have to ACTUALLY know them, inside and out, things are a little scarier.

Setting some goals

With one full year of graduate school under my belt (YAY), I am setting some goals for the summer. I thought I’d risk public shaming and put them out here on the world of the internet, so that the four people who read this can bug me about them at their leisure. Sound good? Excellent! They are roughly in order of least to most farfetched and highest priority.

1) Pass my German class.

2) Pass my Syriac class.

3) Not starve.

4) Not accrue credit card debt in order not to starve (this will be accomplished by making more money! And spending less on frivolities!)

5) Go back through my Hebrew textbook from 11th grade and relearn all the vocabulary, the paradigms, do the exercises, etc. Basically re-learn Hebrew, but for real this time.

6) Go running with the dog at least 3 times a week.

7) Eat a healthier diet (this is the point at which we enter the Land of Wishful Thinking.)

8 ) Hang out with friends a lot while still accomplishing goals 1 through 7.

9) Do some creative writing.

10) Read books that are dense and intellectually fulfilling as well as fluff.

11) Shop at the farmer’s market more often (i.e. ever).

12) Read all the school-related articles and books that I wanted to read but didn’t have time to over the school year.

13) Write my Personal Statement for graduate school applications (okay, I actually DO have to do this one).

14) Research graduate schools thoroughly, impartially, and not as haphazardly as the last time around.

15) Go to bed and wake up earlier.

16) Finish the quilt.

Whew. I feel so virtuous now. And by virtuous I mean “tired.” I’m going to go read a trashy novel instead of studying Hebrew (so much for resolutions 5 and 10…).

EDIT: Goal 17: Blog more.