While he was unpacking the box of dishes, a Syrian couple arrived. Allam greeted the man and woman, and Tom was introduced. The community helped out when a new family arrived, Allam explained.

“The family, when first in this country, is not familiar with any part of the system. Men and women will nod their heads as if understanding when a Canadian talks to them. I know, because I did this in the past. But much of the time, we don’t know what is said. Part of our job with new families arriving is to explain. My daughter, she is good at this because she speaks and understands both languages. Sometimes she has to explain words to me. But I signed up to be a student at a night class. Did I tell you? The class is about learning to listen.”

Tom was intrigued, never having considered a course in learning to listen.

Allam shrugged. For him, this was his usual state of affairs, a deficit he was addressing. The class was helping him deal with everyday life.

While driving back to the store, Tom asked Allam to tell him about the class.

“This takes place Wednesday only, every week. We talk about how to identify the topic when people speak fast. Try to separate words when sounds stick together. That is the hard part for me. Someone once asked me, ‘Izzeebizee?’ I could not reply. Another said, ‘Jeetyet?’ I did not understand the meaning. My teacher explained: ‘Is he busy?’ ‘Did you eat yet?’ No one has said the same things to me again, so I don’t know if I will recognize them next time. There are many sounds missing. People say ‘Wouldja?’ and I must think about this. Or ‘Couldja?’ Again I must think. For my ears, ‘ship’ sounds like ‘sheep.’ Sometimes I am slow to answer. In class, we learn how to focus, how to predict.”

“When I hear you talking about this,” said Tom, “I realize that maybe I speak too quickly. Maybe we all do.”

“You I understand most of the time, Toe-mas. Because I am used to your way of speaking. In class, the teacher asks what we have been hearing the past week. She helps to separate meanings and words and how to pronounce. She teaches us not to listen word by word. We learn to listen for what she calls chunks of words. Better to understand. Sometimes, too, we talk about the idiom. Like raining cats and dogs. Like apple of my eye. Like burning bridges. These are amusing and we have the equivalent in our own language, but now I must learn in this country if I am to understand. In class, we also learn songs. Songs help us to understand words that clump together.”

“But you do remarkably,” said Tom. “This must take enormous effort.”

“I am always learning, Toe-mas. Every day. Last week, I heard someone on the bus saying ‘whole ’nother level’ and I did not understand. In evening class, I looked in the dictionary for ‘nother’ but was confused. I went to the teacher and she explained.”