You Said 'Horse,' You Meant 'Mother'

Then, in our third week, we arrived at the moment all of us had waited for. The reason we were there. We began to learn … the Hustle. We couldn’t wait to master it.

This wave of excitement flooded back to me on a recent Saturday at an orientation for Chinese lessons. A hundred of us had gathered in a large lecture hall at Florida Gulf Coast University. All ages. All races. All filled with the promise of embarking on something new.

The leader asked us why we wanted to learn Chinese. Hands shot up. Some people were eager to visit China. Some wanted to do business there. Others were Chinese parents, who planned to enroll their American-born children with the hope that they would retain the family culture and language.

I wanted to learn it for a different reason. With its strange sounds and thousands of characters, Chinese seemed nearly impenetrable. But within reach. And terrific exercise for the brain.
"This class meets only once a week for two hours," the leader said. "That means you must study every day."

We all nodded. But I was worried. In fact, I had serious qualms. Unlike at age 13, when I had days to devote to disco, I was completely overscheduled.

The orientation leader warned us not to wait until the night before class to review the material. If we did that, we wouldn’t learn much. I know this is true because I teach journalism at FGCU. Which, incidentally, was another reason I wanted to take this class. When you teach, it’s good to be a student every so often.

As for procrastinating, I can tell right away when a student has waited until the last minute to write a news story. I don’t have much patience for it. I tell my students to plan ahead and start early. They tell me they are busy.

"Mang" is the Chinese word for "busy." I know this from lesson one of a book I have at home.
"Mang" has other meanings, too: A black horse with a white face. To lose one eye. A sharp point. Lofty. Steep. Striped. In Chinese, one syllable can stand for many different words, depending on the tone you use as you say it.

This is not the first time I have tried to learn Chinese. Several years back, I had a long commute to work, and I picked up a set of audio tapes. Five days a week, one hour a day, I listened to them, and I got pretty good. At one point, I knew how to say, "I have diarrhea. Please take me to the hotel." I’ve forgotten it all.

Orientation ended, and I suppressed my fears. I signed up for the 13-week course.
Then I went home, and enthusiastically said "hello" to my husband in Chinese.

"Ni hao."
"Meow," he replied.

The first day of class arrived, and we met our instructor, Cao Lao Shi. She was patient and deliberate, and she smiled at us frequently. One man in my class already had the textbook and workbook. He even bought the audio CD supplement, which was listed on our orientation handout as optional. And he had identified a colleague with whom he could practice his Chinese during the week.

The class was full of students like him. The first day, we worked on introductions. Cao Lao Shi went from student to student, rehearsing, "Hello. My name is." When she reached for my hand, she said rapidly in Chinese, "Very happy to meet you."

"Hen gao xing ren shi ni."
"Me, too," I said. The class laughed, and she moved to another student.

My journalism courses began two days later. At our first meeting, I took my cue from Cao Lao Shi, proceeding slowly through the syllabus. I tried to harness that first-day energy, telling them they must study very hard this semester. That night, I checked the online roster and found that several students had dropped out.

Days slipped past, and I didn’t make time to study Chinese. Too "mang." I began to think my students had the right idea. Maybe I should’ve cut and run.

It’s a Saturday morning at 9:10. My second Chinese class was to start in 20 minutes. It was not too late for me to hop in the car. I could get there on time. I envisioned our smiling teacher and my empty chair. This is what my students must feel when they drop a class.

I stayed home. I was full of regret, but also relieved. Maybe I’ll try it again when I have more time. Being a student did teach me something. I just expected it would be Chinese.