Culture Confusion

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about the differences between various versions of the English language. That particularly entry would have been, sadly, completely lost on my 7th grade Social Studies teacher. (Social studies, I should explain, is the U.S. equivalent of history and geography classes.) Early on in the first semester, she asked for me to stand up and introduce my language to the class. As my family had moved to Connecticut from France, I assumed she meant French, so stood up and muttered “je m’appelle Claire” or some such brilliance. But no, she shook her head. She wanted to hear some Scottish. Err, what? A woman who taught geography for a living was impressed with my grasp on the English language, and wanted me to speak some Scottish to the class. Unfortunate then, that there is no such language. A Scottish dialect of Gaelic, maybe – spoken by around 23 people these days, I believe, and very few of them in Glasgow. The closest I have come to Gaelic is the last line of a song warbled at family sing-a-longs, a “braw bricht moon-licht nicht” which might not even be real Gaelic for all I know. There was no arguing with her (perhaps it was a bit of a struggle for me, English not being my first language and all) so I cheerfully reeled off some gibberish and left the poor woman to her delusions.

It still astounds me how little many nationalities – I must be honest here, I have found it particularly prevalent in Americans – know of one another. It is particularly amusing to experience people with what seems like a genuine pride in their – for example – Celtic heritage (I once attended a Highland Games event in Virginia of all places, and watched people sweltering in the Southern heat in kilts, asking about the carb content in meat pies – when they’d be better off enquiring as to the meat content – and drawling about their Sca-aatish roots) yet vaguely imagining the motherland as a tiny, rainy place (okay, they got that bit right) where people habitually take heroin and wear blue paint to kill the English. Thanks very much Hollywood – that is in fact, just Saturday nights. This time last year, I went on a date with a very sweet young man from Toledo, who kept mentioning Stonehenge. I think I might have visited Stonehenge one half term when we first moved to England, but, to be honest, it hasn’t featured much in my consciousness since, so I was a little bit confused. Eventually it transpired that he’d wanted to find out about where I was from so that he could talk to me about it (I was incredibly touched, I don’t think that any one had ever studied for a date with me before) and when he googled ‘London’ he came up with Stonehenge. This rather makes me wonder about the websites giving hapless Americans the impression that there are rural, mystical rock formations just off Piccadilly Circus, but equally, how could an intelligent man of nearly thirty have so little an idea of what London might look like?

To be fair, we’re not much better. My uncle – from South Boston – got asked whether he was a cowboy when he and my aunt briefly lived in Glasgow in the 70s so many times that he eventually used it as his occupation when he signed on (“Occupation?” “Cowboy.” “There’s nae coos in Glasgow, son.” “That’s why I’m unemployed.”) I spent my high school years in the States, and have worked there plenty, yet still fail to fully grasp exactly what fraternities and sororities are, and why they are so important. I know plenty of people who have visited New York, Florida and possibly Vegas, and assume that that is all there is to the U.S. Well, them and flinty-eyed, tornado-strewn, sibling-loving Southerners who are regularly visited by aliens and vote for George Bush – they never bother to consider the existence of the friendly and unbelievably hospitable Mid-Westerners, the gruff and entertaining New Englanders or the laid-back, family orientated and adventurous people of the Pacific Northwest. (Not to mention of course, that there is plenty to commend NYC, Florida and Vegas!)

It seems strange to me, that in this day and age of mass communication and accessible international travel, many people simply seem to be too lazy to bother getting to know those outside their own shores. While misconceptions between Americans and the British are funny and inconsequential, it cannot be ignored that this is a time where appreciation, understanding and respect for cultures beyond our immediate ken is essential.