‘Is your mobile phone for emergencies?’

‘No, it is definitely not imaginary!’

This bizarre conversation, courtesy of one of my pupils, left me scratching my head. It’s hard not to despair about the difficulties of learning foreign languages when you are presented with the exchange above. Vocabulary retention is hit-and-miss, and I must say that often my attempts at becoming a true educator seem to fall wide of the mark. As demonstrated last week, when quizzing a seven-year-old on the picture in front of her.

‘What is the boy doing?’

‘He is humping.’

‘No, that’s a ‘j’. He is jumping.’

(in Spanish now) ‘No, here it definitely says humping. He is humping.’

‘Trust me, he really isn’t.’

Despite the seeming futility of my efforts, as a language-learner myself I obviously sympathise with the cause. Although I now think it appropriate to describe my languages as being of an advanced level, all too often the subtleties of Spanish elude me, and as such, I have been trying to put myself in more situations where I might engage in informal, relaxed conversation, to learn the Spanish of the Spaniards. Not the Spanish of an outdated textbook trying to get down with the kids, and miserably failing by teaching the Iberian equivalents of ‘crikey’ and ‘fiddlesticks’.

For example, I have joined several classes at the gym. Granted, most of my conversations there involve standing at the back of the room and discussing how I have no idea what’s going on, because the instructor seems to think that verbal communication is unnecessary and we will copy her routines perfectly, instinctively reacting to her complex system of claps, nods and silent movements.

If I find myself in a position where I haven’t quite caught the instructions, I slyly take a look around at my gym companions and copy their moves. So far, so sneaky. Sadly this spectacularly backfired when in pilates, since my neck was crucially not aligned correctly with my body, a heinous crime judging by the way the instructor muscled over to my mat. She demanded to know if I had problems with my body, which I thought was a bit rude, and frankly, quite a personal question. I explained that I was English and sometimes didn’t quite catch what was going on. The reason for her confusion dawned on me much later that evening, when I realised that because I was new to the class she was merely enquiring as to any long-standing ailments I might have, so that she could adapt the exercises accordingly. My wounded pride was soothed slightly.

At times like these I wonder what the world would have been like if Esperanto would have taken off. The idea of a universal, constructed language clearly has its flaws, and is still a distant pipe dream, but the intentions are well-meaning, even if the execution has resulted in only ten million people worldwide having ever studied Esperanto in some form. The number of speakers is far less, with generous estimates of 300,000 people apparently embracing Esperanto to near-native fluency. If indeed we can say ‘near-native fluency,’ given that an artificial language inherently belongs to no culture, and so does not associate with national customs or quirks.

I’m clinging to the belief that whilst language-learning is easily identifiable as beneficial for the global community, language stumbling blocks are what make language-learning fun. To subject the world to a uniform second language and way of communicating may indeed facilitate business in the long run, but mistranslations, misunderstandings and miscommunication inspire us to appreciate the nuances of language in way that a prescribed grammar cannot. Only by embracing our mistakes will we encounter such gems as the things that come direct from my pupils’ mouths:

‘What are you wearing?’

‘A bathroom.’