When I was a very little girl, not very long ago actually (!), I was learning how to talk. And walk, but let's stick with the talking for now. My mother (1/4 Polish, 1/4 Portuguese, 1/4 French, 1/4 Spanish) had decided that along with English she would teach me Spanish as well. She was bilingual as her grandmother, my great-grandmother, spoke very little English. This was such a great idea!
Or was it??
Apparently, in the midst of learning two languages, my brain was thinking faster than my mouth could keep up (anyone that knows me personally, no comments necessary). This, as was later determined, was not entirely the case. But back in the late 1960s/early 1970s, no one really knew for sure what caused stuttering, but because I was being taught two languages simultaneously, my mother was told that this was my problem. Thus, my Spanish lessons were ceased.
This did not cure my stuttering, in fact, as I grew older (I was probably about 4 now), it had gotten worse. Much, much worse. I remember (one of my first very clear memories of my childhood) my grandpapa holding me by the shoulders, tightly, looking at me straight in the eye and telling me to slow down. I then again asked for another c-c-c-c-c-c-cookie. He shook me and told me again to slow down. I again, as predicted, asked for a c-c-c-c-c-c-cookie. He walked away and I felt that I had probably let him down. But, as anyone who stutters or knows a stutterer knows, I could not help it.
My stuttering was the classic stutter with the eyes opening and closing with the head nod and, of course, the uncontrollable ability to spit out a word or two without a stammer. People would watch me in stores and, I am almost positive, thought I was stupid. My shyness, undoubtedly, was generated from these early years. Other things later on contributed, but it started there.
I was going to start kindergarten at 5 and my parents wanted to make sure the stutter was, if not cured, at least slowed down. Speech therapy -- Here I c-c-c-c-c-c-come!
This was in the early 1970s, there were no HMOs or PPOs and I doubt very much that my "therapist" had much formal training (my mom might be able to clear this up for me,but I don't think so). If I recall correctly, and I am sure I do, I went to a house to learn my speech therapy. I don't really remember a lot of what I was taught there or what I was asked to do or how long I even went there. But the one thing I do remember is being told that I needed to look into a mirror and repeat the phrase, "how now brown cow" over and over and over until I could say it without there being multiple c-c-c-c-c-c-cows. We advanced to "she sells sea shells by the seashore" to "rubber baby buggy bumpers" to "Peter picked a peck of pickled peppers" to "six sleek swans swam swiftly southwards." Eventually, we moved on to reading books, of course, always in front of the mirror.
If you know me, you know that I talk rather well now. There is no audible stutter (certainly no visible stutter) that a normal person could pick up on. If you listen carefully when I am frustrated or tired or nervous or very mad, you may pick up on a slight stammer. In fact, if I have something very important to tell someone, I might practice before and this might be in the mirror (though not very often). Most times, I repeat it over and over in my head before I even try to spit it out. I have learned in the 40 years since therapy how to cover it up and how to not let on about my stutter.
I regret not knowing Spanish. Had I been born a few decades later, perhaps my mother would have been told that leaning two languages was not the cause of my stutter and to continue with it.
XOXO
Eat Your Heart Out, Shakespeare
10 hours ago
