The Language

Today in class, I heard someone, very quietly, ask their friend "Do you think Mr. Harrison is crazy?"
"Yes Echo," Mr. Harrison said "Yes, I am crazy."
"I was asking Challen."
Well my students think I'm loopy, what else is new? I don't blame them. I sing to myself 95% of class to crowd out the omnipresent screeching in my head that says "YOU ARN'T TEACHING THESE KIDS ANYTHING!" Sometimes I laugh for no reason. Sometimes I dance. Sometimes I stare off into space. Last week a different student in a different class asked me "Why do you hate Enshi?"

It's been a long week. I have been teaching 20+ hours and have given another two hours of lecture. Today I introduced some of my students to the Beatles.

The Language. I am not a linguist. I will never profess to be. In fact, I think I am the opposite of a linguist (whatever that is). Whenever I lost my wanderlust, I also lost my fascination for learning other languages. Although, as I stated earlier, trying to learn Chinese has made me appreciate western languages a lot more than I used to.

Chinese is almost beyond explanation. As many of you know, Chinese is built on tones, and not words. There are a lot less words in Chinese than there are in most other languages; therefore, it's not so much what you say but how you say it. In Chinese, one word can have four different meanings. There are four different tones--one level, one rising, one falling and then rising, and one falling--and the four tones are applied to almost every word. Therefore, if you say one word the wrong way, it has the wrong meaning. For example, the two words Zhu Yuan, the name of our University, also mean the bordello across the street. It's hard to express the limitless awkward situations that arise from a language that works this way.

I also think, and this is the most incorrect opinion ever posted on this blog, that when someone speaks Chinese, the listeners subconsciously choose the meaning that applies to the situation. When I was learning Spanish in high school it was hard to decipher what a native speaker was trying to say, but when I learned more words understanding became easier. When someone speaks quickly in a Western language, you can understand what they are saying because you know the words. When someone speaks quickly in a Eastern language, it's impossible to sit there and decipher just what tone they are using. I know what the tones sound like, but the speed is too quick to hear tones. And I don't think that hearing the tones is something that comes with being immersed in the language for a long period of time. I've been here for over two months, I've been listening for the tones, and I still don't hear 90% of them. Therefore, I think the Chinese hear a word and apply the right meaning to the situation with lightning quick reflexes. I know I'm wrong. This tone-deafness is a product of Western ignorance, but I still wonder why every program on T.V. has subtitles.

Chinese has also helped raise my appreciation of other foreign languages. For one, I have only heard of three words that have the same meaning in Mandarin as in English: Tofu, Typhoon, and Mama (and let me tell you, these come in handy all the time). Other languages are chock full of words that have crossed the language barrier. Mandarin has three. You think, and this boggles the mind, that English speakers would have adopted Chinese words that describe distinctly Chinese objects, such as chopsticks, dragon, or even Pagoda. Nope. Pagoda is Portuguese. Nothing in English makes sense in Mandarin. We're on the other side of the world here. If I had to choose one example of how Eastern and Western cultures are different, the language would be it.

However, I'm apathetic for learning the language. Even in the face of China's mythic economic boom, even with the prospect of a guaranteed job from here until the day I day, and even though it would make life in China a thousand times easier; I don't care to learn the language. To me, learning the language is as interesting as memorizing the breeding habits of squirrels. Why? Because when I look up an English word in a dictionary, I see Latin, German, Spanish or French as the root language, never Chinese. My main beef for learning German in college it was nothing but dead weight unless you ever travelled to Europe. But man, German seems practical compared to Chinese. Of course, two years from now I'll probably be the bush of Africa wondering why I didn't learn Chinese when I had the chance, and how Chinese seems practical compared to a rare strand of Swahili; the grass is always greener...

I guess appreciation of other languages is not Jonathan's strong point. I'll probably never amount to much because of it, but that's ok, because the same fate awaits us all. Well, here's to another lonely day.

"I'll see you in the morning if nothing happens."

p.s. Practical isn't the right word. As far as practicality goes, Mandarin is up there with Spanish. But my dream job is not to speak the language of a culture for which I have a lukewarm affection. I don't think anyone would want to that for a living. Really, I want to give this world travelling a second shot; because I think this is an isolated situation. Everyone who goes abroad loves it, except for me. But you try walking class and having ten seperate groups of people yell "HELLO" like I yell "HERE KITTTY KITTY KITTY" every time I see the neigbhorhood cat. And you try weathering this everytime you go out in public. Anyone would go mad. There is no doubt in my mind.