Library Convos Go Un-shushed

The first thing Manuel Romero told me about the Spanish-language conversation club he holds every week was, ​“It’s not a class. It’s a club!”

It’s amazing how instantly that wording made any academic-type guilt or obligation feel irrelevant. Romero told me that when members can’t make it to a session, they call ahead — which he finds surprising and sweet, rather than an expectation. ​“This group is so nice,” he said.

Romero, who has worked in the library system for over 25 years, has found strong community in the Fair Haven Branch, where he leads his club helping people of all skill levels practice Spanish together. Sometimes Romero is helped by another Fair Haven librarian, José Flores. The group talks about their week, their interests, and their dreams — all in Spanish, no matter how slow anyone needs to go.

Elsewhere in the library, at the same time, a club led by volunteer Susan Hackett does the same thing with English language learners. The club ​“gets people from seemingly every country in the world,” said Branch Manager Kirk Morrison. ​“There’s never been any curriculum or textbooks.” For the past 10 years the club has been in existence, it has been centered around conversation and human connection.

When I got to Romero’s club Wednesday, the Spanish language learners had just finished reading a picture book together, and the members were now chatting in Spanish about language itself. English is more direct of a language for Romero, ​“porque inglés es mi segundo idioma.” It’s his second language. In Spanish, he has more tricks up his sleeve to weave around what he’s trying to say — in his words, ​“es más fácil dar vuelta.”

The conversation fell into into a discussion of different Spanish accents — el acento chileno, el acento argentino. ​“Cebo-sha,” Romero offered as an example, saying the word for onion in an Argentinean accent. ​“Caba-sho.” Horse.

“We celebrate birthdays, anniversaries,” Romero told me. One big celebration the club had recently was their own first birthday, back in May. Some of the Spanish-language conversationalists who showed up Wednesday had been in the club from the very beginning, like group member Catherine Fischberg. 

“I love it so much,” she said.

Beaming, Romero told me Fischberg was studying to be a veterinarian. ​“Vet tech,” she corrected. ​“Not quite there yet.” The possibly-accidental overstatement felt like a classic expression of care.

Samuel Pappas told the group he needed ​“un nuevo app” for language learning, because Duolingo had just fired many of its workers in favor of AI. Then he took a second to think.

“IA?” he ventured.

Romero nodded. ​“Inteligencia artificial.”

Over at the English-language club, members talked around a table with a map, some papers, and booklets, pens, and pamphlets dropped off by the Connecticut Department of Public Health. The last part was a surprise, but the club rolled with it.

One member, Leonardo, had been at the club for a year now. Another, Estefany, held her 10-month-old baby Brisa, who was playing with a ball and learning physics by dropping pens on the floor. 

The group told me I just missed another baby, a Korean baby. When I told them I was Korean, the club asked if that was North or South. It’s a question I get a lot. I took a risk and answered honestly. ​“Two generations ago, North; one generation ago, South,” I said.

By that point, Hackett had already located North and South Korea on the map she brings to every conversation session. We looked at the unnaturally straight line separating the two countries. I told them a story about how it took two U.S. military officials 30 minutes to decide on that line. We chatted about communism, capitalism, and U.S. military intervention. Though our language skills varied, we were all adults (minus Brisa!); there was no need to start at ​“Mary has an apple.”

Hackett said her grandparents grew up in Sweden.

“In what?” Estefany asked.

“Suiza,” Leonardo guessed.

Hackett found Sweden on the map, and everyone was on the same page again. After immigrating, her grandmother lived in a small Swedish-speaking community in Ansonia for 50 years, never having the need to learn English.

Later, the conversation returned to grandparents again, and the club talked about how immigration can separate people from their family structures. ​“When I became a mother,” Estefany said, gazing at baby Brisa squirming around in her arms, ​“she’s my family.”

As the group parted, they told each other to take care until next time. For both Hackett’s and Romero’s clubs, the weekly sessions are a practice in how to understand each other, on levels beyond just language.

The Spanish-language and English-language conversation clubs at the Fair Haven Library meet every Wednesday at 4 m. The Spanish club goes until 5 p.m., and the English club until 6 p.m. Next week, July 9, Romero will be away, so Spanish club will not meet.