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<TABLE class=msgtable cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="96%"><TBODY><TR><TD class=msg vAlign=top><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgbfr1 width="1%"> </TD><TD><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0><TBODY><TR class=msghead vAlign=top><TD class=msgF width="1%" noWrap align=right>From: </TD><TD class=msgFname width="68%" noWrap>CPL (kojakbt22) <NOBR>
</NOBR> </TD><TD class=msgDate width="30%" noWrap align=right>7:57 am </TD></TR><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgT height=20 width="1%" noWrap align=right>To: </TD><TD class=msgTname width="68%" noWrap>ALL <NOBR></NOBR></TD><TD class=msgNum noWrap align=right> </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgleft rowSpan=4 width="1%"> </TD><TD class=wintiny noWrap align=right>25124.1 </TD></TR><TR><TD height=8></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgtxt>Nov 29, 2009
Seared by Mandarin
If Chinese had been taught in a fun and creative way back when I was in school, I wouldn't have hated it so
<!-- by line -->By Sumiko Tan
I've long come to the conclusion that you either have it or you don't and clearly I don't.
I've no flair for languages. I can speak, read and write only English. I can't for the life of me get the hang of another language.
My knowledge of Chinese - my 'mother tongue' via my father - is pathetic.
Despite studying it in school for 12 years and suffering through 12 years of tuition classes, my Mandarin today is so poor I can't even conduct a proper conversation with a hawker (how do you say 'deep fried' or 'steamed' in Mandarin?)
My written Chinese is worse. I was having dinner with a friend from South Korea recently when he asked me to write a word in the Chinese script. I shrugged. He shook his head in mock censure.
I have forgotten how to read Chinese and can barely make out the meaning of the simplest words.
My understanding of Teochew - my 'mother tongue' via my paternal grandparents whom I grew up with - is better than my Mandarin, but it is bazaar Teochew. I doubt I'd understand proper Teochew if it was spoken to me.
My knowledge of Japanese - my 'mother tongue' via my mother - is dismal too. In fact, it's non-existent beyond common greetings, which I still often mix up.
My mother never spoke Japanese to my siblings and me although she and my father communicated in it when they wanted to keep things private. He could speak conversational Japanese.
Instead, my mother learnt Teochew and some English which was what we spoke at home.
Whenever I visit Japan now, I feel as if I'm mute. People will talk to me in Japanese and I'll have to gesticulate that, sorry, I may look like you and in fact I'm halfJapanese, but I don't speak the language.
At home my mother has her TV tuned to the Japanese cable channel NHK the whole day. I can sit in front of the TV and watch a programme with her yet not understand a word that's being said.
I suppose I would have been proficient in Mandarin and Japanese had they been spoken at home. But they weren't, and the reason I've not been able to pick them up later in life is simply this: lack of interest.
I have no interest in the Japanese language. Of course, I wouldn't mind being able to speak it. How nice it would be if I woke up one morning and found myself able to chatter away in it. But take lessons in it? No thanks. It'll be too difficult and I've no inclination to put myself through such a strenuous exercise.
Even the thought of being able to understand my heritage better if I spoke the language is not big enough an incentive for me to want to study it.
Chinese was a different ball game. Growing up, I needed to understand Chinese for a very practical reason: so that I could get into university.
The incentive was there, certainly. Unfortunately, the interest wasn't.
I belong to that group of English-educated Singaporeans whose lives were seared by Mandarin.
Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew recently acknowledged that Chinese lessons in the old days were pitched at too difficult a level because he believed that it was possible to master two languages equally well.
The result was that 'successive generations of students paid a heavy price because of my ignorance'. He urged Chinese language teachers to make learning the mother tongue fun for children.
My reaction upon reading his speech was: 'Oh, MM, why couldn't you have said all this 40 years ago?'
A more relaxed approach to Chinese as a second language might have saved at least three generations of English-educated Singaporeans with no flair for languages a lot of heartache.
We might have become better speakers of English (instead of the Singlish that has become the lingua franca) had we poured that energy into perfecting English, which we were already comfortable with.
We might have had more time to spend on other subjects such as mathematics or history or economics.
We might, ironically, have been even better speakers of Mandarin. If we hadn't been forced to pass the subject and to attend all those horrible tuition classes, we might not have been so resistant to the subject and might have even liked it.
A more relaxed policy might have also saved countless families from having to take up mortgages so they could afford to send their children abroad to university. It might have even prevented some families from emigrating.
Mandarin was the bane of my childhood. My parents couldn't speak it, my grandparents didn't speak it and clearly I was a dunce at it.
But I had to pass it, and like thousands of others, I struggled to do so.
I memorised whole essays (xia yu tian, or a rainy day, was one of them) in the hope I could regurgitate it in the exam. I'd throw in a few evergreen phrases (ren shan ren hai, literally mountains and seas of people) to hopefully impress the person marking the paper.
My textbooks were pockmarked with English words to aid in pronunciation. I went through at least five tutors in 12 years. It was a subject that filled me with hate and dread yet I had to spend the most time on it.
I got a B3 for my O levels and I think a D7 for my AO levels. It was enough to get into university. Thereafter I promptly forgot everything related to Mandarin.
The irony was that when I was in my 20s, I lost my antipathy for the language. I became interested in Mandarin music and Chinese pop culture and got myself a tutor.
Instead of textbooks, we studied the song sheets of singers I liked and articles in Lianhe Zaobao which were related to my work. I enjoyed those lessons.
I gave them up after a few months because of lack of time. I soon forgot all that I had re-learnt through lack of practice.
Today, I have positive feelings about Mandarin and wish I could speak it well, but there is no great incentive to learn it.
To be fair to the Singapore system, it would have been hard to have made the teaching of Chinese 'fun' back in the days I was in school.
China was a closed, communist country associated with farmers, Mao suits and poverty-stricken relatives who were always writing letters appealing for help.
Taiwan was associated with big-haired songstresses who had no appeal to young people. Mandarin pop culture wasn't as big a draw as Hong Kong Cantonese pop.
It's a different world today and there are so many ways a Chinese language teacher can make the teaching of the language interesting. He can use Mandarin movies, music, comics and blogs.
What's past is past and there's no point regretting the harsh Mandarin policy of the old days.
There are hardcore Chinese advocates who think MM's move to make the teaching of Chinese more fun might lead to a dilution of the language and a drop in standards.
To them I say, good for you if you are so blessed with the ability to speak and write another language, and there are plenty of opportunities for your children to learn higher Chinese.
But spare a thought for linguistic dunces like me. The Chinese policy in schools hasn't changed and you still need a pass grade to enter university. If there are ways to help us get the hang of the language better, why begrudge us that?
[email protected]
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Seared by Mandarin
If Chinese had been taught in a fun and creative way back when I was in school, I wouldn't have hated it so
<!-- by line -->By Sumiko Tan
I've long come to the conclusion that you either have it or you don't and clearly I don't.
I've no flair for languages. I can speak, read and write only English. I can't for the life of me get the hang of another language.
My knowledge of Chinese - my 'mother tongue' via my father - is pathetic.
Despite studying it in school for 12 years and suffering through 12 years of tuition classes, my Mandarin today is so poor I can't even conduct a proper conversation with a hawker (how do you say 'deep fried' or 'steamed' in Mandarin?)
My written Chinese is worse. I was having dinner with a friend from South Korea recently when he asked me to write a word in the Chinese script. I shrugged. He shook his head in mock censure.
I have forgotten how to read Chinese and can barely make out the meaning of the simplest words.
My understanding of Teochew - my 'mother tongue' via my paternal grandparents whom I grew up with - is better than my Mandarin, but it is bazaar Teochew. I doubt I'd understand proper Teochew if it was spoken to me.
My knowledge of Japanese - my 'mother tongue' via my mother - is dismal too. In fact, it's non-existent beyond common greetings, which I still often mix up.
My mother never spoke Japanese to my siblings and me although she and my father communicated in it when they wanted to keep things private. He could speak conversational Japanese.
Instead, my mother learnt Teochew and some English which was what we spoke at home.
Whenever I visit Japan now, I feel as if I'm mute. People will talk to me in Japanese and I'll have to gesticulate that, sorry, I may look like you and in fact I'm halfJapanese, but I don't speak the language.
At home my mother has her TV tuned to the Japanese cable channel NHK the whole day. I can sit in front of the TV and watch a programme with her yet not understand a word that's being said.
I suppose I would have been proficient in Mandarin and Japanese had they been spoken at home. But they weren't, and the reason I've not been able to pick them up later in life is simply this: lack of interest.
I have no interest in the Japanese language. Of course, I wouldn't mind being able to speak it. How nice it would be if I woke up one morning and found myself able to chatter away in it. But take lessons in it? No thanks. It'll be too difficult and I've no inclination to put myself through such a strenuous exercise.
Even the thought of being able to understand my heritage better if I spoke the language is not big enough an incentive for me to want to study it.
Chinese was a different ball game. Growing up, I needed to understand Chinese for a very practical reason: so that I could get into university.
The incentive was there, certainly. Unfortunately, the interest wasn't.
I belong to that group of English-educated Singaporeans whose lives were seared by Mandarin.
Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew recently acknowledged that Chinese lessons in the old days were pitched at too difficult a level because he believed that it was possible to master two languages equally well.
The result was that 'successive generations of students paid a heavy price because of my ignorance'. He urged Chinese language teachers to make learning the mother tongue fun for children.
My reaction upon reading his speech was: 'Oh, MM, why couldn't you have said all this 40 years ago?'
A more relaxed approach to Chinese as a second language might have saved at least three generations of English-educated Singaporeans with no flair for languages a lot of heartache.
We might have become better speakers of English (instead of the Singlish that has become the lingua franca) had we poured that energy into perfecting English, which we were already comfortable with.
We might have had more time to spend on other subjects such as mathematics or history or economics.
We might, ironically, have been even better speakers of Mandarin. If we hadn't been forced to pass the subject and to attend all those horrible tuition classes, we might not have been so resistant to the subject and might have even liked it.
A more relaxed policy might have also saved countless families from having to take up mortgages so they could afford to send their children abroad to university. It might have even prevented some families from emigrating.
Mandarin was the bane of my childhood. My parents couldn't speak it, my grandparents didn't speak it and clearly I was a dunce at it.
But I had to pass it, and like thousands of others, I struggled to do so.
I memorised whole essays (xia yu tian, or a rainy day, was one of them) in the hope I could regurgitate it in the exam. I'd throw in a few evergreen phrases (ren shan ren hai, literally mountains and seas of people) to hopefully impress the person marking the paper.
My textbooks were pockmarked with English words to aid in pronunciation. I went through at least five tutors in 12 years. It was a subject that filled me with hate and dread yet I had to spend the most time on it.
I got a B3 for my O levels and I think a D7 for my AO levels. It was enough to get into university. Thereafter I promptly forgot everything related to Mandarin.
The irony was that when I was in my 20s, I lost my antipathy for the language. I became interested in Mandarin music and Chinese pop culture and got myself a tutor.
Instead of textbooks, we studied the song sheets of singers I liked and articles in Lianhe Zaobao which were related to my work. I enjoyed those lessons.
I gave them up after a few months because of lack of time. I soon forgot all that I had re-learnt through lack of practice.
Today, I have positive feelings about Mandarin and wish I could speak it well, but there is no great incentive to learn it.
To be fair to the Singapore system, it would have been hard to have made the teaching of Chinese 'fun' back in the days I was in school.
China was a closed, communist country associated with farmers, Mao suits and poverty-stricken relatives who were always writing letters appealing for help.
Taiwan was associated with big-haired songstresses who had no appeal to young people. Mandarin pop culture wasn't as big a draw as Hong Kong Cantonese pop.
It's a different world today and there are so many ways a Chinese language teacher can make the teaching of the language interesting. He can use Mandarin movies, music, comics and blogs.
What's past is past and there's no point regretting the harsh Mandarin policy of the old days.
There are hardcore Chinese advocates who think MM's move to make the teaching of Chinese more fun might lead to a dilution of the language and a drop in standards.
To them I say, good for you if you are so blessed with the ability to speak and write another language, and there are plenty of opportunities for your children to learn higher Chinese.
But spare a thought for linguistic dunces like me. The Chinese policy in schools hasn't changed and you still need a pass grade to enter university. If there are ways to help us get the hang of the language better, why begrudge us that?
[email protected]
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