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As modern as they may seem, in 50 years’ time, today’s digital language courses may well look like those early vehicles modelled on horse-drawn coaches. But first the bad news: even then, second-language acquisition will still involve a lot of work. By Ulrike Draesner

The announcements on German inter-city express trains are always a pleasure to hear. The Deutsche Bahn churns out its globally unique brand of English with absolute on-the-dot precision. After listening to these announcements for years, I am convinced that the Deutsche Bahn staff must receive training for such a peculiarly distinctive variety of English at secret in-company language camps. When I’m travelling with guests from abroad, I translate the announcements by repeating them word for word in my own English. Then everyone is happy: German sensitivities are no longer disturbed by the friendly “Vee vish yuu er pleszehnt djörnee,” since this becomes, as it were, a kind of German; and the visitor appreciates the good intentions.

Is this the future of second-language learning: Will we all be speaking synthetically pure computer-mediated English? And in 50 years’ time what will the situation be like for those (few?) German learners? In fact, only two things are true about the future: 1) it will happen, 2) but not the way we imagine.

August 1982. Protagonist UD, not yet completely lacking the ability to learn a language synthetically as well (just like children, by listening and imitating, without analysis), seated, unkempt blonde hair, rolled Bavarian ‘r,’ in a language lab at Salamanca University. UD is learning her sixth foreign language, which only makes what follows even more embarrassing. The course is an international mix, and the teachers only speak Spanish. UD is taken together with other students into a room with microphones. Realising that she’s in a language lab for the first time in her life, UD puts on the headphones. She hears voices. After a moment, she recognises her teacher’s voice, and notices one particular woman’s voice. But the penny only drops when the voice makes exactly the same error UD had just made.

From the language lab to three-dimensional online courses

This example shows how helpful it can be to ‘play with’ diverse perceptual senses in different combinations. But it also illustrates how poorly someone starting to learn a language actually listens to it. My Chinese translator is much amused whenever he offers me examples of the eight different tones in Chinese and I never manage to distinguish more than six at best. Can it really be so difficult?

The new media have potential to support language learning in many different ways. Digital vocab books as smart phone apps are, in principle, neither better nor worse than a homemade vocab book. I personally find it easier to learn when I can use my hands: if I write something down, I can remember it better. This is where individual situations and preferences are decisive, as is, at least in the world today, the size of your wallet – since even if good apps are available for free, you still have to download them onto a suitable device. The learning material itself is fun: games and adventure stories presented as entertainment so you (almost) forget they are in German.



The learning gain in online courses is, in turn, different. I imagine them in future as three-dimensional in my living room, in real time, ideally with the possibility to communicate ‘on the side’ as well: a look at my neighbour, a wink that not everyone can see. Or will these rooms be subject to such a strict regime of computer rules that they remain almost completely sterile? Online courses today already offer the chance to learn in a group of like-minded people without having to change your location. You cannot see each other, but you can hear each other. A good opportunity, once you have learned how to deal with all the applications and technical requirements. Before the course starts, you need to become familiar with the course structure (unfortunately – and it’s different every time).

Ideally, the possibilities are combined: vocabulary trainer, grammar exercises, guided or DIY learning, practicing reading, listening, and speaking freely, dialogue with a tutor and a group meeting. It’s no surprise that the demand for online services is growing. The advantage of not having to leave work or home to take part makes many things easier, as does the fact that a large part of the course can be flexibly arranged to fit in with individual daily agendas. That’s all very well as long as it works (technically) and the requisite level of self-discipline remains high. Extending the provision of online courses, though, should not mean that conventional programmes are forgotten. We can’t imagine how the digital world will look in 50 years. But we do know what it looks like today.

More daring, more playful, more amusing

Pleszehnt djörnee, maii diear. When I studied in England for two years, I learned the language and hardly noticed I was doing so. Amid the challenges of everyday life (what’s the word for ‘Steckdose’?, wow, he looks good, but how do I start talking to him?, and oh, what is that, Indian English?) and my own feelings – my brain absorbed the language almost without conscious effort. Since then, I find individuality and a relationship to reality important in language learning. I like to hear the language around me so that I can also ‘breathe it in’ in a parallel process to conscious learning. We generally imagine language learning as cognitive. But the process starts somewhere else, physically and outside the classroom, as a background noise, an ambiance.


As a result, for a long time successful language courses have offered a kind of immersion experience: spending four weeks just dedicated to the language and its speakers. This kind of learning is extremely effective, flexible as the course progresses, comprises the modules appropriate for the participants’ skills, and takes a liberal approach to learning blockages. And it was already clear how terrible that can be in 1982 in Salamanca. I learned most in a course module I really shouldn’t have been taking. The module was called ‘poetry’. For a long time, I didn’t have a clue what was going on in the course, and I spent the afternoons looking up every word; but it gave me access to the character of the Spanish language, its pride and musicality.

My suggestion: Why not ask writers if they want to design a course? If they can write entire novels without using the letter ‘e’ or only using the vowel ‘i,’ they could approach this work with playful language use, innovative freedom and humour.

Gut djörnee. I hope that second-language learning and living come closer together in tomorrow’s world; I dream of books adaptable to my level and speed of learning, of intelligent texts, entertainment and excitement, humour and games, online and in the world without electricity. I am looking forward to developments and, with that thought I have decided that if I live to be 80, I will learn Chinese.

This article – slightly abridged – is from the Goethe-Institut magazine. You can find even more exciting reportages, background information and interviews on the subject in the issue Deutsch!.