From the Secondary Classroom to the Care Home.

Before becoming involved in language teaching in Glasgow care homes with Lingo Flamingo, the only vaguely similar situation I had been in was as one of a group of musicians entertaining residents in a home for people living with dementia. That was when I first witnessed the amazing power of music on the brain. After an initial, less than encouraging welcome from our audience, most of them were enthusiastically singing along to the familiar Scottish songs, word perfect. Some were dancing, alone or with others, and as we started to play the waltz ‘Morag of Dunvegan’, one lady stood up shouting ‘My name is Morag and that’s my song!’ before dancing around the room to the music. People were happy, truly living ‘in the moment’ and the memory of the elation that we all felt that day has still not dissipated, some four years later. As one of our music group worded it, on social media, ‘Is anyone else still walking around with a huge smile that won’t go away?’

The power of music for people living with a dementia diagnosis is well documented, but I wondered, as I arrived in my first care home as a Gaelic tutor if a language would go down as well as the music had. I was ‘flying solo’ for this gig, and my career in language teaching in Glasgow schools had been largely limited to teenagers. Also, although I had some experience of dementia through my mother’s experience, I had never been involved in this way before. Six months on, I am still very much a newcomer to this type of interaction, and I have had to adapt dramatically my way of teaching from the safety of the Secondary School methodology that I was used to. I have been working with several groups of residents with varying needs; some with dementia, some not, but all with their own memories, life stories and personalities. I have had to learn to free myself from the rigidity of the ‘lesson plan’. Although it is still an important part of preparation, I now regularly (metaphorically) rip it up and ‘go with the flow’ so that class members can recount their stories.

Languages can ignite buried memories and emotions in people in just as powerful a way as music can and I now measure the success of my time with the care home residents not just by how much they can interact in basic French or Gaelic, but by the amount of time they spend telling their stories, remembering important places or people in their past, and asking about words and phrases that they have heard or used in their lives; and without the constrictions of a school curriculum we are all free to enjoy these interventions. We have even had therapy ponies and befriending dogs appearing in classes and becoming the subject of the lesson.

I have been fortunate to hear a myriad of lovely memories that people have shared in classes. A lady originally from the island of Jura was amazed to recognise many Gaelic phrases and words from her memory of her mother speaking to her as a child. The mention of a ‘sgian-dubh’ triggered a gentleman’s memory of his father in full Highland regalia in his regiment, and a lady whose first language was Irish Gaelic told me ‘I am realising how much Gaelic I still have in me, and it’s wonderful’. Music, as always, can trigger a whole flood of memories, and can cause some very emotional moments in classes. The town of Avignon on the map of France reminded one lady of the song ‘Sur le pont d’ Avignon’, which she proceeded to sing perfectly, to spontaneous applause from the others. She looked at me, with a huge smile and asked, in astonishment ‘Where did I get that from?’ That song became her party piece and she went on to perform it at the start of every class. Another lady, who had lived in France for some time, became very pensive when I mentioned Edith Piaf. We listened to ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’ together, and there were tears in her eyes. It was a very special moment when the song ended and she smiled tearfully, took my hand, and just said ‘Merci’.

Amazing moments like these are what makes this kind of teaching so special. But there are also moments when the frankness of some residents can bring you back to earth with a thud, like the lady who, when someone asked her what was happening in our room, replied ‘I don’t really know. It’s the woman who keeps talking about that Scottish language. I just go because Jean’s there!’.

I recently started a new French project, in the same care home as the music session of four years ago. After I told the activities coordinator from the home about that experience, she took me into the TV lounge to meet someone. And there was Morag! Still enjoying music on her headphones and still tapping her feet! To say that I am having a ball in these care homes is putting it mildly. I am grateful to Lingo Flamingo, and to the staff in every home I visit, but mostly to the wonderful residents whom I have had the privilege of spending time with and getting to know. To them, in particular, I would say ‘Thank you’ for the ‘huge smile that won’t go away’.