Lost in Translation

Sometimes We Just Get It Horribly Wrong

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Did you know that John Bowlby, the father of our beloved attachment theory, once said that a young child needs their mother constantly, “night and day, seven days a week, … 365 days (a) year?”

Sometimes even great thinkers get it horribly wrong.

This week I’m reflecting on communication and translation. When we get it right, and when we get it less so…

(26) Lost in Translation | Original Trailer | Coolidge Corner Theatre - YouTube

In Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation, she depicts two people who are struggling to translate their marriages and their lives. Bob Harris (Bill Murray) and his wife have forgotten how to talk to each other. Their conversation is reduced to choosing carpet samples. While he films a whisky commercial in Japan, Harris forms a friendship with Charlotte (Scarlet Johansson.) Charlotte is also a bit lost, trying to communicate with a husband who has figured out his path in life, while she has not figured out hers. Through the friendship between Bob and Charlotte, Coppola reminds us how rifts in translation disconnect us from ourselves. On the other hand, human connection, feeling like someone else understands our fears and desires, leads to greater wholeness. (I will not derail too much here and talk about my feelings about Scarlet Johansson being 17 when Lost in Translation was filmed, whereas Bill Murray was 51. Did they really need to kiss? Okay, slight derail.)

Translation is the topic that Pádraig Ó Tuama takes up this week in his Substack Poetry Unbound. You should check it out. It is a lot better than mine. Poetry Unbound | Substack

Padraig understands deeply the rifts that poor translation can cause. He spent five years of his life working for the Corrymeela community, which was founded in 1965 as an attempt to build a more peaceful Northern Ireland. This group has been working since that time to help fractured groups connect through the power of story. About - Corrymeela

The stories we tell can indeed change our world.

One story that our family loves to tell is about an epic “Who’s on First?” fail in translation. My husband worked at Atlantic Beach during his college summers in order to help pay for the exorbitant cost of tuition. One night after his shift was over, he called home, hoping his brother might come and meet him at the beach. His sister, who was probably about 12 or 13 at that time, picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Dan.”

“Daniel’s not home right now.”

“No, this is Dan.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Is Jesse there?”

“I don’t know…”

“Can you go find him?”

“It’s dark outside.”

“I know it’s dark outside. It’s dark here too. Can you go look for him?”

“Yes…”

Needless to say, Jesse never made it to the beach that night, but our family still sits around the dining room table telling this story and laughing aloud. If your family or friend group has similar stories, I would love to continue this conversation in the comments.

Sometimes failures in translation are downright hilarious. Sometimes, they are slightly more problematic. Mateo’s therapist (for my new readers, Mateo was our six-year-old foster child who lived with us for almost two years) once told me that the best place for Mateo to be at all times was in proximity to Dan and I. One time, she also suggested that the reason Mateo bit our older son was probably because he was processing his feelings about my upcoming work trip that would take me away from him. I wonder if she was translating John Bowlby.

Sometimes even great therapists get it horribly wrong.

One of my students was recently diagnosed with autism at the age of 18. When I shared this story with my brother-in-law, he reminded me that there is a gender bias when it comes to neurodivergence. You can read more on that here. IWD2022: Neurodivergent Women & Girls Misdiagnosed, Misunderstood and Missed Altogether (creasedpuddle.co.uk)

When Rebecca (name changed) shared her diagnosis with me, I immediately contacted her counselor so that we could put a plan in place that would allow her to have extended time on assignments. However, when Rebecca didn’t turn her essay in, I put a zero in the gradebook. I was using the zero as a placeholder to let Rebecca know the assignment needed to be turned in, but it caused her grade to plummet. She emailed me and said she didn’t think this was fair. If she has extended time, “shouldn’t the grade wait as well?” To me the zero was just a marker, a reminder, but to Rebecca, it was a reason to stop trying because “what’s the point if she’s just going to fail anyway?”

Sometimes even great teachers get it horribly wrong.

Our grading system is extremely transparent. Transparency is good, right? Students and their parents can see their grades the second a teacher enters a grade in the gradebook. I spoke with one of my colleagues and friends about this. She got me thinking more about it as she questioned, what would happen if we evaluated ourselves the way we evaluate our students? What would happen if we were graded on our daily performance?  What would happen if we were late one day, forgot to return an email to a parent or took longer than we should have to give students feedback? What would happen if we could immediately see our progress marked as failure? Would we find that motivating?

I am grateful for Rebecca and her self-advocacy. Full disclosure, my ego is slightly bruised when she tells me that she does not have this issue with her other teachers. However, I am hopeful because she shares her feelings with me, allowing me an opportunity to repair. She offers me a chance to reflect not only on myself, but on how I am working within the framework of a less than optimal system.

In my therapy session this week, I share with my therapist the joy I am finding through my writing. I tell her that I am pursuing publication. She lists off all the things that I am doing and asks if perhaps I am doing too much.  “Your kids will only be around for so much longer,” she says. “Check in with your husband,” she says. “See what he thinks.”

Sometimes even great therapists get it horribly wrong.

I never told Mateo’s therapist how her comments made me feel. I never gave her a chance to alter or clarify her translation. I am keenly aware as a parent, a teacher, a spouse, a friend, that I am not always going to get it right. In fact, sometimes I am going to get it horribly wrong. I am grateful when people give me the opportunity for repair. I am learning to give others the same opportunity.

Just as Rebecca shares her feelings with me, I share my feelings with my therapist. I wonder if she will reflect not just on her intention, but on how her comments made me feel. I wonder if she will recognize that she is operating within the framework of a less than optimal system where women, even if their partners are amazing, are still expected to sacrifice in ways that men are not. I am not certain in this case that repair is desired or possible, but perhaps some of the rupture can be addressed. Perhaps, even if our therapy relationship is severed, I don’t have to feel severed inside.

What resonates with you today? What’s your story of fractured communication? Where have you translated beautifully, and where have you missed the mark? Where have you bridged the gap, and where have you utterly failed? Seeking all stories, funny, serious, sad…Sharing them can indeed change our world.