Recently, I was given an opportunity of a
lifetime. I have been an adjunct professor at the University of St. Francis for
over a half dozen years. St. Francis offers its students an opportunity to take
a course in conjunction with a trip overseas. Most of the time, they have gone
to Western Europe. However, this year, they decided to go to China and asked me
to teach the class. Since I have a background in religion, history, and
philosophy, I enthusiastically accepted the offer. When the administrator asked
me to develop a possible itinerary, I jumped at it as if I were Chinese carp
jumping at a morsel of food in an imperial garden. In addition to the regular
must see spots like Hong Kong, Beijing, the Great Wall, Xi’an, Guilin, I
proposed that we would include Tibet. I was anxious to return to that
mysterious and exciting place having recently been there. In the past month or
so, I have busied myself with writing the course syllabus, making a PowerPoint
presentation, selecting a text, etc.
My wife observed my frantic activity level and decided to do her
part in preparing for the trip to China since she would be accompanying me. She
made lists of what to take, checked the expiration dates on our passports, and
looked into our inoculation records. Then one morning over coffee, she said, “I
think that it would be nice to learn to speak Chinese for our trip. We have
traveled all over but haven’t been able to converse with the locals in their
language. Wouldn’t it be nice to speak Mandarin?” I knobbed affirmatively and
dismissed it as just talk. Not only is Chinese an extremely difficult language
for Westerners to learn, we would be in China in the coming Spring. The notion
of quickly picking up Mandarin Chinese was a nice thought but completely out of
the question. I settled back to work on the doable aspects of the trip like
fine-tuning the syllabus and tweaking the PowerPoint presentation.
A week passed, and I was sitting at my computer late one evening
when my wife greeted me with some strange sounding pronouncement. I responded
with confusion in my voice. My first thought was that she had just had a stroke
and couldn’t speak clearly. I asked her to repeat what she had said. Back came
the same sounding reply. I asked her to explain. She proudly announced that
she had just asked me, “Excuse me; do you speak Mandarin Chinese?” Well, I
can’t be sure that is what she said since I don’t speak Mandarin, but she was
confident that a native speaker would have understood her.
My wife had
purchased a 6-CD set of how to speak Mandarin Chinese—in ten days! According to
the material accompanying the CDs, my wife will be speaking Chinese by the time
you read this article. Now the pressure is on me. I struggled with four
previous languages in my academic career, and now I’m going to be an adult
learner of Chinese. To add to my discomfort level, my wife seems to be picking
up Chinese like a youngster would, and she is enjoying it. Whenever our paths
cross, out spurts some new phrase and a pregnant pause waiting for me to respond
in Mandarin. I have zero self-efficacy regarding learning Chinese.
There is no
way that I am going to learn Chinese in ten days. Even learning that language
by the time of the trip would be for me an impossible task. What will the folks
at the university think? Will this affect future teaching assignments? I can
hear them now, “You know, Campbell’s wife is fluent in Chinese, and he’s
illiterate. Perhaps, we need to find a replacement for him.”
As I struggle
to regain my emotional equilibrium, I will try to learn some Mandarin before our
trip. However, why waste the time learning, “Excuse me; do you speak Mandarin
Chinese?” Even if I am able to master that question, I am only setting myself
up for more frustration. I can see it now; I greet a Chinese person on the
Great Wall with my question about whether he speaks Mandarin. Then what do I do
when he seizes upon that to engage this Westerner in a conversation in
Mandarin? Perhaps, I should try to learn, “Excuse me; I am learning disabled in
Mandarin. Do you speak any English?
This article appeared in the Dixon Telegraph on 12/28/04.
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