When we found out we were moving to Ukraine, one of the first things we did was buy the Level 1 and Level 2 Rosetta Stone Russian language sets. We also downloaded Duolingo, the popular language-learning app, onto our phones. But we didn’t have time to dive into anything until we arrived in Kyiv.
On one of our first days in the city, way back in August, I cracked open the Level 1 box and downloaded the software. I was determined to become fluent in Russian … and I was immediately discouraged.
The very first word in the lesson was Здравствуйте.
It means “hello.” The phonetic spelling is zdravstvuyte.
I could not get past the very first word of the very first Russian lesson I ever tried. In fact, I still can’t say this word, at least not very well.
Clearly Rosetta Stone wasn’t going to help me speak Russian. I packed up the software and put it back on the shelf, where it sits to this day.
I downloaded an app to learn the Cyrillic alphabet, which has some similarities to the Greek alphabet. There are a few differences, of course, but understanding how to pronounce many of the letters immediately helped demystify lots of words I found around me because there are cognates with the English language.
In addition, I turned to Duolingo, where I was able to pick up a few random vocabulary words here and there. Unfortunately, the app also has a lot of shortcomings, one of which is not offering any insight into why certain words or placements of words existed. Ultimately, many of the lessons resulted in me making wild guesses about words, then memorizing the rules so I could regurgitate them and get through a lesson.
But nothing was sticking.
Cory’s school offered language lessons to teachers and trailing spouses late in the fall, and initially I was excited. But the call-and-response recitation only made me frustrated, especially when the instructor started emphasizing nuances of sound. I am hard of hearing, particularly in my right ear, and I can’t pick up these tiny vocal changes.
When I couldn’t respond appropriately, I felt myself sliding into a familiar frustration and on the verge of tears. When I was trying to learn Kikuyu (a tribal tongue) in Kenya, my language teacher kept repeating the same thing over and over again, speaking louder and louder. It was as if this somehow would make my brain pick up tiny fluctuations of tone that I literally can’t discern from one sound to another.
I left my final Russian lesson angry, annoyed and deflated. And before you suggest it, I have no interest in finding a private tutor and repeating the experience.
With Rosetta Stone and in-person lessons behind me, I turned back to Duolingo, which I hadn’t abandoned completely. It was my only pathway toward any sort of Russian language acquisition. I focused on understanding words and skipped the spelling exercises, which weren’t helpful for my daily survival.
You did see Здравствуйте, above, right? I need to know how to say that word, not spell it.
Things were going along … okay, I suppose.
I know bits and pieces of other languages. I have a couple years of Spanish study under my belt, minored in German in college and did a pretty intensive study of Swahili while serving in the Peace Corps. Even though I don’t actively speak these languages, I can easily pull parts of them up on a moment’s notice. They all stuck with me, to some extent.
This is not the case with Russian.
Eight months into living in Ukraine, I still frequently access a list of common Russian phrases, phonetically spelled, that are saved on my phone. The only words on that list I can actually recite at a moment’s notice are yes (да, pronounced “da”), no (Нет, pronounced “net”) and thank you (Спасибо, pronounced “spasibo”).
And still I marched on with Duolingo.
I picked up a few more random words: apple (яблоко, pronounced “yabloka”), milk (молоко, pronounced “moloko”) and cat (Кошка, pronounced “koshka).
But then, last week, the app changed its algorithm and lesson requirements. Suddenly, I couldn’t skip the spelling exercises, and the app would circle back to them, forcing me to try to spell these foreign words, removing lesson credits I’d already earned from correct answers until my progress bar was completely empty and I still hadn’t spelled a word right.
What’s worse than not moving forward with a foreign language?
And that’s what Duolingo forced me to do in an attempt to learn Russian.
So, what did I do?
After more than 120 straight days of attempting to learn the language, I quit.
I discussed this with a few expat friends who are better speakers than me before I threw in the towel, and they all thought it was a good idea. It’s exhausting and draining to try to learn something when you’ve made no progress.
And, while it would be incredibly nice to speak the local language, it’s not absolutely necessary.
I have no idea what’s being said around me. I haven’t known since the day we moved here. But, between Google Translate and ridiculous hand gestures, I’ve gotten by relatively okay so far.
I hate to be that American who can’t speak the local language. I made an attempt, but it was a long, drawn-out, difficult, trying journey. The effort just isn’t in me anymore.
Speaking Russian just is not going to be my thing, and I accept that.
I’ve deleted the Russian lessons from Duolingo, and the Rosetta Stone boxes are collecting dust.
If I can get a few more of the common phrases to stick in my mind for easy use, I’ll consider it a victory. But I’ve given up the dream of truly communicating in the local tongue, and that’s okay.