Learning New Languages

 I was born to English-speaking parents and so naturally learned their language. When I was in fifth or sixth grade, a Korean family moved to our rural area. The children attended my school. Initially, we could not communicate much. My words made no sense to their ears, nor theirs to mine. Over time, the family learned the language and culture of their adopted country. The kids excelled in school. One became a physician.

Early in my 20s, I took a medical terminology class. Not only was it required for a degree in emergency medical services and useful for my paramedic training, it continued to serve me well later when I became an RN. The mostly Latin words could be used to decode mysterious disease names or anatomical parts.

Attorneys, astronauts, mechanics, all have a language of their own. Even quilters use a vocabulary not known to the average person. Long-arm machines, sashing, hole-in-the-barn-door, feed dogs, wool batts are terms probably not thrown around a courtroom or chemistry lab or car showroom. For those of us who've sewn and quilted for years, such phrases are familiar.

Someone new to quilting might feel a little like those children who came to my school and heard only what sounded like gibberish in their first weeks. But with continued exposure, there's a breakthrough, and little-by-little, a new language is learned.

Last week, Tom surprised me with the terminology he's picking up. He pointed to a book on long-arm quilting and casually commented: "I like this combination of feathers and meanders."

New language.