Article
Originally Posted August 10, 2008
I am certain that we had all anticipated that there would be astronomical differences between studying Chinese in America and learning the same language in the country where it found its origins, but there is nothing like first-hand experience. Before arriving in Beijing, I thought myself quite lacking in my knowledge of Chinese, but now, after being here for only two weeks, constantly immersed in everyday situations, I now realize that I was and am indeed not just “quite lacking” in the amount I have studied, but rather, absolutely helpless in terms of survival (were I not directed by others, of course). We should accept this, however, and embrace it, because the less we know, the more we have to learn, and the more we have to learn, the more extraordinary the world seems to us.
There are at least two necessary parts of education in a field like language studies, especially in one as difficult as Chinese. These are in-class instruction and the seemingly random but incredibly useful information we learn outside of such a sheltered environment. Our teachers, at least the ones by whom I have been taught in this program (though I am sure this comment is applicable to them all), are truly fantastic. One of the most impressive features of their lessons has been the rapidity with which they teach while still maintaining the clarity and importance of the information one is given in what is usually a much longer time. To be sure, the language classes are anything but easy. I have found myself studying flashcards more than I ever have in such a brief period, taking numerous notes, and doing more Chinese gongke (homework) overnight than my American teachers have ever given me, and though it might be stressful (with good reason), learning so much in such a short time has had an amazingly impacting effect upon me. It is enlightening to simply see how much can be done when one focuses on something, and spending time with a Chinese host family is endlessly encouraging (especially if we really like them!), because it gives us more of an incentive to learn the language, so that we might better communicate with them. I have felt sad that I have not been able to express the emphatic appreciation I have toward my family for everything that they have done for me. It has been remarkably frustrating to only be equipped with as few words that I have at my disposal, because the only thing for which I can frequently thank them for is the, let’s say, “interesting” food they have provided for me. Just think. Doesn’t “Hao chi,” (“Tasty.”) and “Xiexie, wo chi bao le,” (Thanks, I’m full.”) get old after a while? For me, it definitely has. And then, there is always becoming better acquainted with our host siblings, which faces both a linguistic and cultural barrier. Upon my first day meeting my host sister, Wang Yuhan, I accidentally called her toufa (hair), mao (fur), and she replied, “Mao! Mao is for monkeys!” But silly incidents, engendered by inexperience itself, is just what has been most thrilling about studying Chinese in China, because we are bound to make mistakes, which, I have learned, is best for improvement.