One day, I was late picking up my daughter from ballet class. When I arrived, the ballet teacher is standing outside with my daughter and I start explaining why I was late — I left the house a little later than usual, I had to pick up dinner, there was a line for pick up at the restaurant…
The ballet teacher says, “I understand – there was traffic.”
I started to correct her: “I didn’t say that.” , I thought. But I stopped – it wasn’t necessary. I filed that moment away.
Another time, a new acquaintance and I were getting to know each other and she mentioned a book that she loves. I asked her all about it, and told her I may pick it up myself. A week later, she texts me and tells me that she picked up the book for me. I ask her how much it was so I can Venmo her. She doesn’t respond.
The next time I’m at her house, she gives me the book– I ask again. She ignores the question and moves the topic on. “Did she not hear me?” I wondered.
I didn’t know whether I had broken a social rule or simply missed one I didn’t know existed.
Earlier in my career, I was given the opportunity to move from a subsidiary to the parent company to lead marketing operations for the entire organization. I expected celebration: “Ashley, this is a big deal.”
It ended up being a simple conversation and a pay raise.
In retrospect, this was the first time I realized that the quiet was the recognition. It was up to me to understand the gravity of what had just happened and what it meant for my career.
All of these weren’t lessons anyone announced. There was no syllabus. But something had shifted: I was recognizing a new vocabulary. In this new vocabulary, corrections and celebrations were quiet. I had to learn to hear them.
No one hands you the dictionary. Over-explaining, offering to pay for a gift, waiting for a congratulations that never comes. You’re not wrong; you’re just operating from a version of the language you haven’t fully learned yet…unknowingly becoming bilingual.
And eventually, you stop looking for the dictionary—and start recognizing the language as it’s being lived around you.
