Humanising Language Teaching
Year 5; Issue 2; March 03

Modelling Rita

Henk van Oort, Nertherlands.

On a summer evening in 1954, when I was 10 years of age, a tram stopped in front of our house in Amsterdam. Many trams had stopped there before, but this one was different. From the balcony of my parental house I watched the girl that alighted. She had black curly hair and was dressed in a blue skirt and a brown cardigan with remarkable copper buttons and she was English. With her suitcases she walked to our house, my heart beat louder than before. In our living room I heard her English and from that moment on my half-conscious modelling process had begun.

Rita Stephen was the first native speaker of English I met. How I remember her voice when she was doing the washing up in our kitchen singing all kinds of songs in English! She was a pen friend of my sister's who had arrived for a fortnight's holiday. She must have been eighteen at the time. She had travelled all the way from Hazelville Road in North London. A ferry crossing from Harwich to Hook of Holland could then take seven hours or more. She was tired and went to bed early. I didn't and still don't know why I was so excited. From the present point of view it seems that I then had the feeling as if someone from a completely different world had found lodgings in our house. I felt mesmerized in a way. When I was alone in the house the following days I sometimes entered the bedroom where this remarkable person stayed and stealthily looked at her belongings. I read all English words I could find on make-up boxes, clothing, and bags. I spelled and copied the words in a note book. From that moment I started a collection of all kinds of texts in English that I could lay my hands on. I repeated reading the whole collection every now and then.

Apparently Rita appreciated her welcome to a high degree. Her initial fortnight's stay changed into a period of three months. All the time the members of the family were frequently exposed to English. Through an extensive series of mutual misunderstandings we got to know one another. My father took up the idea of shouting when he was not understood, but of course of to no avail. It only added to the fun. Rita took great trouble explaining all linguistic problems. She started to understand some Dutch which was a comfort to my father. In fact we started to like one another. My mother, a descendant of the French Huguenots, spoke a little bit of French. After Rita's first stay she too had picked up enough English to carry on a conversation. As a result I could compare the two foreign languages. I started a sort of game with these three languages, Dutch, French and English. I read aloud three texts that I could find in these languages at full speed, the one after the other when I was alone in my room. I remember tasting, as it were, all possible sounds that left my mouth. I found it remarkable that all human beings had the same lips, tongue, etc. and nevertheless all these varieties of languages came out!

As Rita put lots of emotion in her language I still hear her voice when I say such phrases like: “What a shame!” or “You shouldn't do that!” I must have listened to her very carefully.

As her stay was prolonged her parents decided to come over and visit their daughter. Jack and Grace Stephen made the crossing to Holland and stayed in our small flat for a fortnight. How seven persons managed to live in such a limited space I still do not understand. At the time it was no problem whatsoever apparently. Jack taught me some nursery rhymes which I would never forget and still use in class. The thing is that I cannot separate these short texts from the first male native speaker I met. In later years when I started coming to England Jack told me many details of London life. Together we stood on a bridge near Hazelville Road from which one has a grand view of London. On that spot he told me about the bombing in the Second World War. How frightened they were because of all the fire that could be seen from that bridge. He saw the bombs coming down close to St. Paul's. This spot in London is firmly linked to this friendly person from whom I learnt lots of English. Place and person cannot be separated in my linguistic memory. I modelled my first English with the help of these two people. I find it remarkable that Grace, Rita's mother, in my modelling process, took a less prominent place. Maybe because of the following. Shortly after Jack and Grace's arrival Grace went to buy some cakes at the baker's. And indeed, we all had tea with these cakes, but Grace obviously liked the Dutch cakes to such a degree that she had bought two for herself and one for each of us. She actually ate these two in front of our eyes. From that moment she did not play a role in my unconscious modelling process anymore I presume. But Rita and Jack stayed in the forefront of my mind.

For many years Rita kept coming to our house. Sometimes she stayed a fortnight, sometimes a couple of months. She had started calling me her Dutch brother and consequently my parents were her Dutch mum and dad and she was my English sister. Between the ages of eleven and fourteen I think I wrote her over one hundred letters in English of which not one survives, unfortunately. She sent them back with all mistakes underlined. I studied these letters thoroughly sitting at my desk in my small room. Not only did the language differ, also the letters themselves were different. I was amazed that there were different varieties of one and the same letter and still people could understand what was meant.

During one of her longer stays in Amsterdam she had her bicycle sent over. It was a wonderful green bicycle with hand brakes and a three speed. Most remarkable was the built-in dynamo in the front wheel axis. At a birthday party my many uncles stepped out on the balcony where it was parked and stared at it. This was a real strong English bicycle! We were in the fifties then! I was impressed by both the bicycle and their admiration for it. When I came home from school I would just sit on the balcony close to this bicycle, just sit and stare: "Rudge", it said. And I kept saying it aloud." Rudge". What a sound! Gradually a plan took shape in my mind. Of course I could not stop telling my friends in the streets about this remarkable bicycle, which was not locked! In fact my position in the social pecking order among the neighbouring friends was considerably improved by the fact that such a marvel was within reach. I decided to organize a demonstration of English craftsmanship combined with Dutch riding abilities. I announced secretly that on a certain Wednesday afternoon I would give a display of this wonderful means of transport. I had decided to do this in the close-by Stadium Square, an appropriate place for such an event. When no one was home I took the bicycle downstairs and out on the street. I cycled uncomfortably to the place where it was to happen. Many friends followed in my wake, impressed. In the Square I gathered speed, in fact I cycled as fast as I could. Some tried to overtake me, but didn't manage to do so. When I was completely out of breath I applied the hand brakes and really, what brakes they were! The bicycle did as ordered: it came to a sudden and definite stand still, just as it should. But poor me, I made a kind of somersault across the handlebars and landed on my right knee. Twelve stitches, a splint, and six weeks in a chair were the result. No school, no sports, nothing. Just sit and be (a) patient. I really needed walking lessons afterwards.

After forty-seven years the big scar on my right knee is often cause for a big laugh whenever I meet Rita, who is in her sixties now. We have always been in touch through all these years.

Only in recent years did I come to realize that the budding modelling process I underwent in my youth has been the firm foundation of all my work as a teacher of English. Especially when teaching foreign students, viz. who are not Dutch, I strongly feel the presence of Jack and Rita Stephen in my linguistic consciousness. A presence from which a convincing effect upon my students emanates.

Henk van Oort
July 2002