So Much Gibberish

So Much Gibberish

“People, turn to page...” Languages professor Dan Kinder announced.

Every hand in the class shot up.

“Could you repeat that, sir?” asked the student he called upon.

He did so.

The hands still waved.

He chose another.

“You don’t know what you are saying,” Max Singleton told him.

“Ah, wouldn’t you say it was more than likely you students don’t know what I’m saying.”

“It’s unintelligible!”

“It makes no sense!”

Student after student stood up and expressed their opinion.

“So, none of you did the assignment?”

“What assignment?”

“No one saw the rebus I wrote in large letters on the board at the end of last class?”

“What’s a rebus?”

Kinder hit his forehead.

“I keep forgetting we aren’t the same generation,” he said. He pulled down a clean board.

“This is a rebus. A pictorial language. See what you can make of it.”

The room went quiet.

“Now, who thinks they have the answer?”

A few people offered a solution.

Max stood. “Language is gibberish until you understand it.”

“That is correct,” the professor said with a smile.

“What do you get from this statement?”

Each person offered their take on the words.

“When learning a new language, everything you hear will seem like gibberish. But as you begin to understand, it becomes less so.”

“My contention is that gibberish is a language. One you also must understand. It, of course, depends upon the speaker using it. They know what they mean, it is up to you to figure it out.”

“How do we do that?”

“Rhythm, cadence, breaks in the flow. Most of all, just practice with each speaker separately.

The professor faced the students and ran off a string of seeming gibberish.

“Have a good weekend. See you next class.” Max translated. Everyone laughed.