Super Power

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When I conduct interviews, one of my favorite questions to ask is, “If you were a superhero, what would your super power be?” Most people want to fly or be invisible or time travel. I would choose the ability to speak any language fluently upon hearing just a bit of it. If that plug-in gadget from The Matrix was a real thing, I would upload so many languages that I’m sure I’d crash my system or have to start forgetting childhood memories or something.  

Last week I attended a meet-up at my local coffee shop for Francophiles. It’s called “Café Français.” We were about seven people covering a wide age range, all attempting to carry on small talk about ourselves, the weather, politics in our somewhat rusty French.

It’s been probably three years since I seriously tried to have a conversation in French. I still think in French sometimes; I count reps when I work out in les chiffres français. This weekend while I was running at the park, I found myself working through some vocabulary in French, matching up synonyms and antonyms with their French counterparts. Yes, that’s how my mind often works during a run.

There’s science behind the benefits of second-language learning. In fact, anything that helps the brain form new pathways is beneficial for cognitive health. But the pleasures of speaking a second language go well beyond that interior scaffolding.

Speaking a second language feels like having a super power.

Gathered around that table in the corner of Angel Falls, we were an elite group of specialists sharing a coded skill that others around us couldn’t crack. At least, that’s what it felt like.

One of my colleagues from undergraduate studies also attended the meet-up. That was fun. He’s from Morocco, so I’m sure he’s got some great stories. We never knew each other very well, but I’m hoping to change that. Seeing his name on the list of attendees is partially what convinced me to get out of the house on a Tuesday evening. It also helps that Angel Falls is walking distance from my apartment—and that they offer one of the best black teas I’ve ever tasted.

As I go about building this new life of mine, I’m trying a lot of new things and meeting a lot of new people. But I’m also revisiting parts of my past I had tucked away in mothballs. French is one of those treasured aspects of my college career that I thought would remain in storage indefinitely. I am delighted to find that I can still hold up an extemporaneous conversation in French—albeit with hesitation and some help from a generous interlocutor. And I am delighted to find others willing to give up a weekday evening for the same purpose. Quelle joie.

Perhaps I’ll go to France again one day. Peut-être. Pourquoi pas? Tout est possible.


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