The struggle of learning a new language is real

Debatt ● Olga V. Lehmann

Here are three dilemmas about demanding researchers to learn Norwegian within their working hours.

1. What about the money and the time required to
successfully learn a new language?

Departments within and across universities in
Norway have different policies, and different budgets to support language
courses for foreigner researchers in temporary positions. Many doctoral or
postdoctoral fellows who receive economic support from their departments to
attend to Norwegian courses are expected to learn the language in their spare
time, as attending to the course is not to affect teaching and or research
duties. Juggling with the saudade of all one has left behind to move abroad,
while adapting to a new culture, socializing, and weather conditions is tough.

Add to it all the pressures of performing well
in academia to, hopefully, secure a university job in the future. If that
future is as daunting as the current budget constraints suggest, then many of
these foreigner employees might need secure external funding, or even apply for
jobs abroad. Either the case, having a Norwegian language certificate might not
be as useful as two extra publications, or leadership and lecturing experience.

In the best of scenarios, for those lucky
enough to work at institutions that pay for the language courses, the struggle
of learning a new language is real. What
happens in the meantime, until one masters a new language sufficiently enough
to understand is being discussed at a meeting, the details of reports forwarded
by e-mail, or even to know the Norwegian media is talking about them and one’s
future? To spice up the issue: many of the 15 ECT courses in Norwegian
discussed in these regulations do not imply proficiency in Nynorsk, but
primarily in Bokmål.

In the worst of scenarios, there are
departments who cannot prioritize paying for the Norwegian courses of all their
foreigner employees in temporary positions due to the tight budgets. In the
real case scenario, many departments in Norwegian universities are even tight
in budget to support candidates to travel for conferences because the annual
research budget per employee does not seem to adjust to inflation.

2. What about the assessment gaps for permanent
positions in Norwegian academia? 

Proving Norwegian proficiency does not necessarily give junior scholars
an advantage when competing for permanent positions in Norwegian academia. If
there are two good enough candidates, one with less teaching experience and
less publications but a B2 certificate of Norwegian language, would that person
be better qualified for a permanent position at a Norwegian university? 

If the
short answer is tja doing so would give a competitive disadvantage to
solid applicants abroad and who, ideally, could receive support to learn
Norwegian within the first years of employment, were they chosen.

If the short answer is nja, then why to
make this a mandate without providing any other forms of structural support for
the mental health and well-being of junior scholars who leave their countries
behind to pursue an academic career?

3. Why aren’t we speaking of facilitating inclusion? 

If there should be
a reason to encourage with compassion junior researchers to learn Norwegian
language is to facilitate socialization in a work environment, and adaptation
to the Norwegian culture which can be of benefit the overall well-being of
foreigner employees. Sitting at a julebord without following what the
central speeches are about, and depending on colleagues’ intermittent
translations of what is going on at a meeting is not comfortable. Trust us, we
want to be part of the conversation, også på norsk!

Years ago, when I was a postdoctoral fellow, my
colleagues and me went out for dinner and I wanted to order a chicken pad thai
without chili, but the waiter understood I wanted my chicken pad thai
without kylling. Going out and about in town and being misunderstood can
lead to funny memories, but many other times it can be frustrating and
demotivating.

I can only speak of myself right now: my mother
tongue is Spanish. I am in awe when I see many colleagues, whose mother tongue
is German, pick-up Norwegian in a matter of months, while I had a slower
learning pace. It took me almost five years to feel confident enough to grade
the papers of students in Norwegian while being fair to them. 

Now, almost 11
years after I moved to Norway, I manage to work clinically with patients in
Norwegian, and sit at the lunch table with my colleagues at the University and
follow what they are speaking about. Still, I need to swap to English from time
to time, and there are occasions where I sense in the air that there is a joke
being told, as most Norwegian people are laughing, but my language skills
remain somehow limited to catch what the joke was about.

Isn’t it ironic that most of the media debate
about foreigner employees is happening in Norwegian language right now? I bet,
if our aim was to facilitate inclusion, these debates could also be
communicated to the people affected by these decisions, in a way they best
could understand it. 

Instead of talking as much about «them», talk with those
who are employed at temporary research positions, and ask them for their
experiences, their wishes, and their needs for thriving in Norwegian academia.
Talk to us, who have been on the journey from being doctoral candidates to
becoming permanent employees at a Norwegian university. 

We know the struggle is
real, not only because of our pace at acquiring language skills.