Core Memories With Words

Memories work in a kind of funny way.

We like to think that memories work like a recording.

That they get etched in our brains just as they were. That they are exact replicas in our minds of what actually happened. The smells, the feelings, the colours, the emotions, the people, the details. Accurate to a T.

But they don’t.

They are in fact quite malleable; influenced by others, influenced by story retell and the feelings we have while recalling them.

The less salient, unimportant details blur into obscurity.

The more important details being strengthened, cemented with certainty the more times we retell or recall them, even if they started off iffy.

For me, I have very visceral core memories about specific words. I remember who I was speaking to and how it made me feel.

For me, it was high school. I must have been 15 or 16 years old. On the way back home, riding in one of those yellow school buses with the plastic-like artificial leather seats. I was talking to a friend at the time and sitting in my usual bus position, wedging my knees up up against the back of the seats in front.

During the discussion, I was talking about an all-powerful being in a TV show. I was describing the character as “almost omnipotent” but I separated the words as OMNI and POTENT.

My friend replied, “You mean omNIpotent?” I immediately felt embarrassed being called out.on my mistake.

I think I quickly tried to explain myself, saying, “Oh I never say that word aloud, just seeing the word in reading”. Which was in fact true.

But I never forgot how I felt and never forgot the pronunciation of that word ever again.

My hope for everyone when it comes to accent learning and language learning is the development of strong core memories. And now, I work hard to try to support the formation of positive core memory experiences.

I look back on that experience fondly as someone who learned the word, who identifies English as their first language and the experience as an otherwise neutral experience.

I wasn’t traumatized by the experience and although in the moment perhaps had a blow to my ego, it helped me learn the language. But it could have been worse. It could have been a traumatic blunder. It could have made me feel like a failure or feel humiliated. The experience could have fostered a fear of the word, or trying out new words, or expressing myself openly.

And I fear that this is the case for many people.

Sometimes when I work with clients, they tell me about experiences where they successfully ordered a pizza, successfully and confidently presented their ideas, or their ability to go an entire conversation without needing to repeat themselves.

For some native speakers, these kinds of experiences can feel mundane, to-be-expected, or norm, but for many people who are living a life in a new language, it can be these little moments that have a lasting impact - a core memory of a positive experience in a different language.

And these moments are the kinds of positive, momentum-building experiences that propel people forward in their language development.

I strive to foster those moments because those core memories stay with a person.

They are carried with a person for potentially their entire lives.

And I hope in some small way, I made that core memory with a certain word a positive experience for them.

Because regardless of whether they remember me, my name, where we were, or what we were talking about, I’m certain they would remember the way I made them feel.