Professional Documents
Culture Documents
From China Chris moved to Hong Kong, which has been his base for the
past 20 years. He currently runs his own business as a senior leadership
coach and organisational advisor. This work takes him to many parts of the
world, and gives him a privileged position to observe and influence some of
the more complex problems faced by people in organisations. In the last 25
years Chris has visited places as diverse as the southern forests of India, the
North Pole, and some of the world’s most important industrial and financial
centres.
Chris Lonsdale
http://www.the-third-ear.com
chris.lonsdale@the-third-ear.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or
by any electronic means, including information storage and retrieval
systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a
reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. The right of Chris
Lonsdale to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted as
have his moral rights with respect to the Work.
Contents
Acknowledgements:
1: It’s as difficult as . . . breathing
Section 1
2: Ghost of an unknown language
3: Barrier busting — re-examining ‘common sense’
4: How do they do that?
5: Thinking like a language learner
6: Meet the audibol
Section 2
7: Perceive patterns, practise details
8: In the beginning was the word
9: Tongue ’n’ ear
10: Tricks of the sound trade
11: Cracking the code — scaffolding in the mind
Section 3
12: Actively using the adult advantage
13: Living in a bigger world
14: The third ear
15: Fitting in
16: Setting yourself up for success
This book is dedicated to all those people who really do want to learn a
foreign language, but who have been frustrated in the process. Some have
continued to battle on, sometimes successfully, but often with slow results.
Others have simply come to believe that it’s too difficult for them. This book
has been written to show that, no matter who you are, you can master any
language. Not just that. It can be easy and fun. It’s just a matter of knowing
how.
Acknowledgements
I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge all the people who
have contributed to making this book a reality.
Firstly, I’d like to thank Kevin Jones, Allen Dorcas, Michelle Tanmizi,
Diane Wilcoxson, Jonathan Harger, Roger Bell, Robert Atter, Jeremy
Kidner, Colin Jesse and the many others who gave insights into the
language learning process, both from their own experience, and from
observing the experience of others.
Equally important is the contribution of the core group of testers, who
worked with the ideas in the book. Many thanks go to Andrew Mok,
Augustine Tan, Marc Mostacci, Steve Udy, Janet Blount, Christian Masset,
Panida Tang-sriwong, Thirawit Leetavorn, Mark Michaud, Larry Gaffaney,
Philip Jackson, Tina Boe-Hansen, Dirk Rossey, Michael Boddington,
Elizabeth Bridgeman, Margaret Leung, Luan Xiuju, Naaz Kazi, James
Rynne, Zoe Fitzgerald, Lyn Brewster, Andrea Gutwirth, Carol Wong,
Angela Spaxman, Uli Burke and Sayed Gouda. Paul Coffey deserves
special mention for putting into action all of the ideas in the book, resulting
in him learning to speak Mandarin in just a few short months.
Many people helped in the book’s creation, reading various versions and
giving useful input that helped to shape the final version, or simply just
giving encouragement. Special thanks go to Mark Tier, Michael Guss, Tony
Giles, William Courtauld, Huaying Zhang, Chris Robinson, Leon Jakimic,
Graham Earnshaw, Simon Chau, Barry Brewster, David Brooks, Maureen
Mueller, Gilles Bassi, Mark Powell, Mark Michaud, Cathy Lee, Edith Scott,
Daniel Spitzer, Leanne Wang, Sylvain Gauthier, Richard Finn, Andy
Boerger, Steve Alexander, Andrew Matthews, Jeremy Blodgett and Manab
Chakraborty. Several hundred people contributed to the decision process for
the title, weighing in on various options. Thank you all for making your
thoughts known. The final inspiration that led to the title The Third Ear
came from Tom Masterson and Sarah Monks. Thanks guys.
Help came in many other forms as well.
Stephen Roberts did a great job taking some of the key ideas of the book,
and turning them into simple, fun cartoons.
Magnus Bartlett and Peter Gordon both provided helpful guidance for the
whole publishing process.
Alan Sargent took what I thought was a well-honed piece of work and
honed it even further. His disciplined editing has, I hope, made a definitive
impact on the final work.
Importantly, I’d like to thank my daughter Michelle for giving me the
chance to watch her as she grappled with her first language. In many ways
The Third Ear could not have been written without those insights from a
first-time beginner. It was almost as if her arrival was necessary for key
pieces to fall into place. Thanks Michelle.
And finally, my deepest thanks go to my wife, Fengdi, for standing
quietly by me for the many years that it took from initial concept to finally
completing the book.
Chris Lonsdale
October, 2005
1 It’s as difficult as . . .
breathing
‘Learning Chinese is really difficult,’ she said to me. ‘I worked solid for
two years, and even then only had the basics. And, there’s no way a person
can learn Chinese faster than that.’
I was at a seminar in Hong Kong, and the young woman really meant it.
She had learnt to speak Mandarin Chinese and, quite clearly, it had been a
difficult process for her. But it didn’t have to be that way. It certainly didn’t
match my own experience, or that of the many other people who have
learned a new language easily and effectively.
I told her that I thought Chinese can be mastered very quickly by a
Westerner — in just a few months, actually. She replied that this was not
possible, and looked at me like I was slightly mad.
Rather than get into an argument with her, I decided to write this book.
This book is about you, and the things that you can do to learn a new
language faster and more easily than you ever thought possible. It’s also
about me, because it follows the journey that I have taken to learn what
many consider, in the West, quite difficult languages — Mandarin Chinese
and Cantonese. The lessons about how to learn a language apply equally to
languages that could be considered easier.
In the pages that follow I will share the personal strategies and
techniques that have worked for me, and other successful language learners
that I have talked to.
I’m writing this book for one simple reason — I want you to discover
how to better use your natural language talent more effectively. After all,
you’re a language genius anyway — you have to be if you mastered your
mother tongue! Remember, you came into the world with no words and no
grammar. You had nothing to hook on to and, somehow, you still became
fluent.
If you are reading this book you probably want to learn a new language.
Maybe you are about to go to a new country to live or work. Possibly you
are already there. Maybe you have decided that, for work or some other
reason, you need to master another language even if you are staying at
home. Or maybe you are just interested in learning a new language.
Whatever your reason, I’m sure you want to know how to do it with the
greatest ease and the most fun.
Reasons to bother
There are many reasons for learning a new language. For one thing, it’s fun.
And, when you really get into it, you might find that it can expand your
world. You get to see the world from angles that you would never have
thought of before. Of course, there are practical reasons too.
Consider for a moment that many of the problems that we have to deal
with in today’s world are caused by poor communication. You’ve probably
heard the old joke about the British and Americans being separated by a
common language. Even those of us who speak the same tongue have
problems communicating!
Recently I was given the job of facilitating a meeting of senior managers
in a US-Chinese joint venture. There were twelve people on the
management team, eight coming from one partner and four from the other.
Eleven of the people were Chinese and one was an American — and he was
a fluent Chinese speaker.
As the meeting progressed it was clear to me that many of the Chinese
people were in conflict (with each other) because they didn’t realise that,
while they meant the same thing, they were using different words. They
were busy creating what I call ‘ghost conflicts’ — conflicts that happen
when you think you disagree when really you agree.
To give an example of a ghost conflict, you might have found yourself in
a situation where you are trying to agree with someone where to meet at a
certain time. You say, ‘It’s the coffee shop to the left of the post office.’
Your friend says, ‘There’s no coffee shop to the left of the post office!’
and looks at you quite strangely. You know you’re right, of course, and
insist that ‘Most definitely there is a coffee shop to the left of the post
office.’
With neither of you backing down, very soon you find yourself in a
heated argument and you’re not quite sure how it started. You are certain
there is a coffee shop to the left of the post office. And, your friend is
equally certain there is not.
If you’re lucky you stop to analyse what is going on before you destroy
the friendship. It turns out that you are thinking about the whole situation
from the perspective of looking at the post office from across the street.
There is a coffee shop beside the post office. As you face the post office, it
is on your left-hand side.
Your friend thinks about it very differently. She has a perspective of
coming out of the post office. The street is in front, and the post office is
behind her. From that viewpoint there is a coffee shop just down the street,
if she turns right.
The argument started because neither of you understood the perspective
that the other was using. And, in this example, your friend omitted to
mention that in her mind there was a coffee shop to the right. She simply
disagreed with you that there was one to the left.
So, what happens is that you find yourself arguing but there really is no
disagreement. You both know there is a coffee shop. You can both see it in
your mind’s eye. And yet you argue about whether or not a coffee shop
exists in that location. A problem caused by missing pieces of information
and different perspectives on the same issue. A ghost conflict. When you
realise that you are actually thinking the same thing the conflict ends.
Now, remember, this sort of thing happens between people speaking the
same language! Imagine what can happen when they are speaking different
languages. Just as frequently happens when people from different cultures
try to work together.
That day, as we explored different people’s mental models, and resolved
the ‘ghost conflicts’, we were able to begin discussing the more important
and difficult areas that existed in the group. As we went deeper and deeper
into these, you can imagine that it became somehow obvious how important
it is to speak someone else’s language. I noticed that, even though he was a
fluent Chinese speaker, the American manager misunderstood the motives
of some of the Chinese managers. Clearly, the Chinese managers meant
well. But they could not convey what really mattered for them. So they
miscommunicated. To understand what was needed for a solution the
American manager needed to understand personal histories and cultural
limits, as well as some very subtle language distinctions.
We did work it out. It took some effort and some back-and-forth
discussion about business and personal issues. Today, this joint venture
company is operating much more effectively, with a much higher level of
cooperation.
Later, as I reviewed this case, I wondered whether we could have solved
the problems so easily if participants at the meeting were unable to speak a
common language (in this case Chinese)? What would have happened if the
only means of communicating was through an interpreter? I shudder to
think. . . .
I have been in meetings with interpreters and they always fail to convey
all of the subtlety and the multiple levels of meaning that are present in the
original message. It’s not that interpreters don’t understand, it’s just that
things do get lost in translation. I know. I have worked as an interpreter. In
many cases, to understand what someone means you must first have the
cultural ‘stories’ that go to make up the meaning. Without these stories true
communication is difficult — sometimes impossible. Of course, you learn
these stories as you learn a language but you can’t give all the background
to a word or phrase when you are interpreting for someone in real time!
So, to get things done between countries, companies, across cultures and
between people who speak different languages it’s important — even
critical — to master other people’s language. Even if they already speak
yours. Because only then can you truly understand why they say what they
say.
There are three main sections to the book. In the first section we
explore how, and why, it is going to be easy for you to learn another
language.
In the second section, I talk about the basic principles and elements
of a model for language learning. These principles work, and you will
need to think through how to apply them in your own language-
learning situation.
In the third section I give you a set of specific tools and techniques
that you can immediately apply in learning your new language.
You can read the chapters in any order you choose. If you prefer to
understand why you do certain things, then starting at the beginning
is probably better for you. If you like to learn by trying things out, and
then review them in your mind, working backwards is probably just
as good.
Whatever way you choose, I trust you will enjoy the rest of the book
and that you will discover, like me, that learning a second language
can be a wonderful journey of insight and discovery!
Section 1
We also look at the idea behind learning from people who have
already mastered a particular skill. When you find the patterns that
those people have used to be successful, you too can share that
success.
2 Ghost of an unknown
language
You and I were born with the ability to do this same task, somehow, with
no training. If we didn’t have this ability we would not be able to
understand somebody speaking in the middle of a thunderstorm, or over the
noise of traffic, or in a conversation with three other people speaking at the
same time.
Have you ever found yourself in a situation where somebody said
something to you, and you didn’t understand, and so you asked the person
to repeat it? Then, when they did you realised that you had understood it the
first time? Somehow, we seem to understand the meanings that people
communicate without needing to break phrases into words, at least not
consciously.
This applies equally in situations where a person is in a place where a
foreign language is being spoken. Assuming you have had that experience,
did you maybe notice that, somehow, you could at least pick words out
from what people were saying? Obviously, there was a lot you couldn’t
hook on to, but there were still things that stood out and that you heard
clearly as distinct words, and you possibly even remembered them.
What about listening to distorted messages? A phone message can be
very distorted, and we can still understand what is being said. The brain
takes the information, filters out the distortion, and makes sense of the
whole thing.
Whether or not we are ‘hard-wired’ to learn language, everyday
experience points to the amazing ability that people have to decode
language and give it meaning. Any language. Any time. We can’t stop
ourselves from hearing words in much of the sound that is around us.
Especially when the sound is made by human mouths.
What happens when parents have young children? The kids are off
somewhere in their heads and playing with sounds, saying things like ‘ahh
boo’, and ‘peess’, and their parents hear things like ‘apple’ and ‘please’.
Wow! Junior is talking! The kid makes a string of sounds, and we hear a
string of words. W e just don’t know what they are. The baby does, though.
And she’s probably wondering why you don’t understand.
So, the brain naturally hears sounds and turns them into words, breaking
them up in just the right place.
Think about the baby. No grounding. Doesn’t know any language. And is
able to hear single words picked from a sentence and play them back
immediately. ‘Eess’, ‘du’, ‘pey’; ‘em’, ‘baak’; — ‘is’, ‘to’, ‘play’, ‘them’,
‘back’. A task that computers are only just beginning to come to grips with.
Interesting concept, but how can we apply it?
What might happen if you just accept the possibility, for a few months,
that today you have the ability to learn a language just as you did when you
were a baby, naturally and easily. Now . . . what do you think the
implications might be?
As an adult language learner you already know what types of pattern you
need to be looking for. There may be patterns that you have not experienced
before, but you absolutely know there must be some pattern that will help
you communicate things you want to communicate.
You have other advantages, too. You know how to write, and you can use
this skill to help you organise and memorise materials about the language
you are learning. You also have specific tricks that you have learned over
the years. For instance, you may have tricks that help you to remember
different sorts of things. You can use these skills to support your language
learning as well.
Most importantly, you have ways of organising material, and you have
ways of both thinking and talking about the structure of language. This
means that you are in a position to apply language rules to accelerate your
acquisition of any language.
So, not only can you use your inheritance as a language learner, you have
the added advantage of all the memory tools and tricks that are available to
adults and which young children are still unaware of. A great place to start.
Of course, it might be a little bit rusty. And that means that you have
some cleaning out to do. Recently I was working with a colleague in Hong
Kong who is learning Cantonese, and took her through an exercise to turn
on the language switch in the brain. As she did the exercise and focused on
it, and gave the instruction to rewire, she sensed a shift in her language-
learning ability. Over the following days and weeks she began to find that
tuning in to Cantonese, and using that language, became increasingly easy
for her.
It was as though there really are circuits in our heads that we make use of
to learn language, and that all you need to do is remove some of the rust and
then you can learn as easily as a child once again.
Worth remembering:
Have you ever noticed how, the more you try to avoid something, the more
it happens? To give you an example, please follow the instruction below to
the letter: Don’t think of a purple elephant with yellow spots.
Now. . . .
Be honest. Only you will know. And what does it matter? How long did
the purple elephant with yellow spots appear in your mind’s eye before you
wiped it out?
Many years ago I was teaching a friend to drive, and we happened to be
on a windy hillside road with a drop of over 1000 feet off to the right. As
we approached a tight yet manageable left-hand curve, she suddenly froze
and screamed, ‘What do I do?’
Simple. Turn the wheel. And she couldn’t. I kept saying ‘Turn the
wheel’, and all she could do was stare ahead at the approaching abyss,
almost as though there was a compulsion to drive straight towards that
terrible place upon which she was fixated.
I’m told that many cars hit trees because people keep looking at the tree
when the key to salvation is just to turn the head and look where you want
to go, not at what you want to avoid.
So, if you want to avoid some of the key mistakes in learning a new
language you might just choose to jump to the next chapter on ‘How do
they do that?’ Or you can read on and explore some of these key barriers.
As you do so, try to decide whether these are really barriers to your own
learning, and what you are going to do about them.
Just so you know what you’re getting in to, the three main ideas that I
explore in this chapter are: the ‘bad belief barrier’, the ‘school subject
mistake’, and the ‘cultural mythology mistake’. When you’ve understood
these barriers, you will already be well on your way to effectively learning a
new language.
Remember:
What you believe about learning a language will either help you
or hinder you.
Bad beliefs can create an important barrier to your learning.
Most beliefs about language learning are based on myths.
Question the myths and do not accept them as a reason for
failure.
In the 1970s a question was asked. It was a simple question, but it had
profound implications, like all good questions. In essence it was: ‘If a
person has talent, can we pull out the components of that talent?’ A second
question follows naturally from the first. ‘If you understand the components
of someone’s talent, can you then replicate it?’
Have you ever considered the idea that if one person, anywhere, can do
something, any other person can learn how to do the same thing? What
effect might that have on your learning and understanding?
In 1954, Roger Bannister broke the four-minute mile. Before that time, it
was common knowledge that it was not possible for a person to run that
fast. Of course, since the barrier was broken, the sub-four-minute mile has
been run many, many times. It doesn’t just happen, of course. The runners
who break the four-minute mile still train hard, and they add to their
training new methods that make it possible to achieve that goal.
The same is true for the sport of mountain climbing. It took years before
anyone was able to scale the peak of Mount Everest. Then, after it was first
accomplished by Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, it has
subsequently been repeated many times. Since getting to the top of Mount
Everest is becoming more common, the bar has been raised. On May 8,
1978, for instance, Reinhold Messner even climbed to the top of Mount
Everest without supplemental oxygen. And he did it again in 1980 just to
prove that the first time wasn’t a hoax.
Every four years the Olympic Games show us that limits that people once
assumed insuperable can be transcended. These limits frequently seem to
evaporate into thin air, as a mirage shifts and disappears as you try to focus
on it and walk to where it appears to be. You try to touch it, and it is gone.
The hallucination of impossibility fades.
The point is that barriers to performance in any arena can be surpassed
and, once this has happened, the way is open f or others to follow.
Language learning is just one area where such barriers have already been
removed by quite a few people. All you need to do is hook into what they
did to learn so quickly, and you’ll be able to achieve the same results
yourself.
After all, learning a language isn’t all that difficult! If all the people in
France can speak French, then French can’t be that hard. If a billion or more
Chinese people can speak Chinese, then it can’t be that hard, and anyone
can learn it. It may take a little time, a little effort, but success will follow. If
millions of people around the world can communicate in English then, just
maybe, anyone who wants to can learn it.
And you don’t just look outside yourself for examples of success. You
have them within you. You might recall a time when you did something
particularly well. It was quite possibly unplanned, and there you were,
performing at a level totally beyond what you had ever achieved before.
You may have been playing sport, or playing music, or drawing or just
relating with friends. And you did it in a way better than ever before.
Now, a wonderful thing about your brain is that once you do something
for the first time, a track gets laid down along your nerve pathways so it is
easier to do the same thing again the next time. You begin to remember, and
then again, and again, until what happened once becomes your normal and
natural way of doing things.
What’s even better is that the more you have learned already, the more
you can learn easily in the future. This happens because your brain learns at
two different levels. When you are learning one particular thing, or
performing one particular action, you are also learning how to learn similar
things in future.
So, if you have learned one language, from knowing nothing about the
world, and with no words to start with, then you can learn a second
language. You have proven to yourself already that you can learn a
language. You did it under the most difficult conditions imaginable, and you
succeeded. So, you already have the means to succeed within you. Apply
yourself, use the tools and approaches that work, and any new language will
open itself to you.
Learn to copy; copy to learn
Remember how schools stress so much that copying is bad, that you ‘have
to do it all by yourself’? Strange, really, since copying is one of the most
basic techniques that we have available to us for learning anything new.
It’s good to walk around and really observe what happens in the world.
You learn a lot that way. I live on a small island, where people walk rather
than drive and they actually talk to each other on the street. So, it’s easy to
notice how people behave.
Just the other day as I was walking in the village I saw a father with his
son. The father was walking, feet slightly turned out, with his hands clasped
behind his back. His son, who must have been only about four years of age,
was walking beside him in exactly the same way.
Things like this make you wake up and start to think in different ways,
and you start to notice more of what people are really doing. You start to
notice how frequently people say ‘yes’ out loud, and shake their head at the
same time. It’s very common.
On that day, after noticing the first father-and-son pair, I became aware of
four or five different examples of young children mimicking, in perfect
detail, the movements and postures of one of their parents. If you have
children you will have noticed that they mimic you. The things they do that
really annoy you are probably the things that you do yourself. You just
don’t like being reminded of it!
Copying things exactly is how children learn. And, just like a child,
whenever you want to learn something new, or just be better at something,
it’s really useful to copy. Copy what people who are accomplished in that
something are already doing. When people learn art, for instance, they do so
first by copying the techniques of the masters. Once they have mastered
other people’s styles and techniques, they then go on and develop their own
style. What this really means is that, when you copy in this way, you are
internalising mental programmes that a master uses, and making them your
own, while adapting them flexibly in your own way.
Whenever you begin to edge into a new language community, you will
inevitably find yourself immersed in a sea of sound, through which you
must find a way to communicate.
To do that, you will need to make up new sentences, with little or no time
for preparation. And you’ll have to learn thousands of words. Not just that.
You need to both create and understand literally millions of combinations.
Yikes! And then you remember, once again, that you have already done this
at least once in your life.
Like any large-scale task, to be successful it’s useful to consider the
different ways you can break it down into bite-sized pieces. How will you
think about this challenge? And how will this new thinking help you to
organise your learning?
Some months ago, I was coaching Sebastian. Sebastian is about fifty
years old and plays in amateur golf competitions. On some days, he’d do
great. On other days he had a terrible score. He was plagued by
inconsistency. He had asked me to coach him with his mental game, so we
started by analysing what was going on.
It turned out that on the days when he had a good score he was thinking
about just one shot at a time. He said to me, ‘You know , it works when you
focus on what’s just in front of you . . . think about what you’re doing as
you do it!’
When he was scoring badly, he was using up his energy worrying that he
was ‘behind’, or that the other guy would catch up. Worse, he began to talk
to himself.
‘Hmmm, I’m four shots down,’ it would begin. It was a quiet voice to
start with. Then it got stronger. ‘You’re losing.’ A slight palpitation in the
heart. Fear, maybe? Then, ‘Here we go again. Another bad streak coming
on.’ Tension grew in his shoulders.
The voice would get even stronger. ‘Oh, man, this is a really tough shot!
How am I ever going to make this one?’ Indecision would set in. There
were times when Sebastian didn’t even know which club to pick any more!
Soon the voice was at full pitch. ‘You ’ll never make that shot! You’re
dead!’ Sebastian would swing and, as anticipated, the ball would begin to
curve in the air and go in exactly the wrong direction. He was even further
behind.
Researchers, such as Debbie Crews of Arizona State University and John
Milton of the University of Chicago, have been studying patterns of brain
activation in golfers. The research shows quite conclusively that, the better
a golfer is, the less brain activity he has in the seconds before he makes his
shot. The key difference between pros and amateurs is in the left
hemisphere of the brain. This is the place that logic, analysis and verbal
thinking happen. Quite clearly, the better a golfer is, the less self-talk he
has. How you think does matter.
Which explains why Sebastian wasn’t hitting the ball where he wanted it
to go.
We worked together over a couple of sessions, and Sebastian got to a
point where he was able to focus in a more productive way and ignore the
score. Instead of getting rid of his self-talk, which could be quite difficult,
he decided to say more useful things to himself. As he was getting ready to
tee off, he’d start saying to himself: ‘I love this game. What a beautiful day.
It’s great to be with friends.’ He even got to a point where he was playing
friendly games and just totally ignoring the score. Which just made his
game get better.
A few weeks later I got a call. He was panicking. He’d just completed the
first day of a three-day competition and had hit 15 on the last hole. In case
you don’t play golf, let’s just say that this was very bad. He was devastated.
He’d been doing well and then, on the last hole, his old self-talk came back.
Ten minutes later he was in my office, and we began to work on it. He
began to complain, saying, ‘I had it under control and I knew how to do
what we talked about and then, when I needed it, I just didn’t have the
presence of mind!’
Silent, I walked over to my desk, took a blank sheet of paper and wrote
something on it. Folding the paper, I went back across the room and handed
it to Sebastian. Looking puzzled, he took the folded paper and began to
open it.
The smile began at the left corner of his mouth, spread to his cheeks and
his eyes, and leapt to his belly as he exploded in a great guffaw. From that
day on, whenever he plays golf, if his old self-talk even gets started he finds
himself smiling and relaxing. Because there is now presence of mind. He
had received it as a little gift of words on a piece of paper. On the paper I
had written Presence of Mind. And, as I gave it to him I said, ‘Now you
have it.’
How you think about things does matter.
Maybe you are hungry and want to eat some bread. You could, of course,
go into the fields, collect some wheat, separate the grain from the grass,
take it home, grind it, find some other things with it, and make a loaf of
bread. Alternatively, you go to the corner store and use a few muscles in
your mouth and throat — ‘A loaf of bread please.’ And then, ‘How much is
that?’ Just by making a few sounds, accompanied by appropriate gestures,
and putting them together in a certain way, you are able to get your needs
met.
Of course, like a child, it starts off simply. ‘Want that.’ ‘Give that.’ ‘How
many . . . (money)?’ And, over time, you are able to say more and more,
and you can notice you are increasing your power exponentially. Already
very satisfying. Expanding your repertoire to be able to make more and
more things happen. ‘Sit down’, and that person does sit down, exactly
where you want them. Next time, you’ll probably add a ‘please’. ‘I prefer
that wine,’ and someone passes the wine to you from the end of the table.
All of the great language learners that I have spoken to think of their new
language as a tool. Think of it as something to use, not as something to
study. This doesn’t mean that they don’t think about it and analyse it — you
do find your own ways to think about your new language a lot when you’re
learning it, trying to work out which words and which combinations get
what results. Finding ways to remember the important pieces.
It’s just that you are also acutely aware of the practical nature of what
you are doing. You know that language gives you power to get things done.
It’s a way of getting your needs met. The ability to interact with people.
And, like any tool, the more you use it the better you get.
And, as long as enough of us agree that this is the case, then so it shall
be.
If you notice your own language you will realise that these conventions
aren’t even fixed. They change over time. Today, in 2000s English, the
word ‘actor’ is used to represent both men and women. It wasn’t so long
ago that we said ‘actor’ for a man and ‘actress’ for a woman.
Most people in the English world today accept that ‘cool’ means some
mixture of trendy, good and exciting. How did that happen? A century ago
nobody would have understood that usage of the word ‘cool’.
Of course, dotcom is a word totally new to the English language and to
the world and I would bet that most, if not all, of the people reading this
book will understand what a dotcom is. Because we have all agreed that’s
what it will mean.
Allen, a Canadian friend who is fluent in English, French, German,
Italian, Mandarin and Cantonese, talks about how this realisation came to
him. He was about sixteen at the time.
‘You know ,’ he said. ‘It was like you have this sudden, major shift in
awareness.’
He went on. ‘I used to be fixed in my view that “this is the way to say
things”. I was learning French at the time, struggling with one particular
phrase that I can’t remember now, and I realised that there is more than one
way to say things, and more than one way to think about things. All of a
sudden, I realised that all languages are relative. There is nothing absolute
about any language. There are many different ways in which you could
choose to put sounds together to communicate meaning. And no one way is
any better than any other way, they are just different.’
On reflection, this is incredibly freeing. Things aren’t as important as you
used to think they were. It doesn’t matter if you get words out of order, or if
they are spelled a little diffirant to what others are doing. I’m sure you catch
my drift.
Of course, it’s nice to be like other people, to play by the same rules. As
with any game, playing by commonly agreed rules makes life smoother.
You just need to know which game you are playing.
Once you understand that languages, and the rules they use, are all
relative, you begin to understand the different implications.
First of all, you begin to notice that ‘why?’ is no longer a useful question
for you. Why does Chinese only have one way of saying ‘many/much/a
lot’? Why are cats masculine in French? Who cares!
People in those countries play by those rules. As a learner, your focus
very quickly moves to thinking about ‘how’ and ‘what’. A much more
practical focus. Basically, you want to know which words do what. By that,
I mean, what will happen when you say a certain thing. If you say ‘more’,
does the waitress refill your glass, or does she slap you in the face?
You want to know how. What steps are required to put across what you
want to say?
What and how. What will happen when I say this? And how do the
natives do it?
As you are doing this, you assume that the language you are learning has
its own, internal logic. It is a separate system, independent from the
language you already speak. Your job as a learner is to identify the logic of
the new language, and then use it ‘as-if it makes perfect sense.
There are several key ideas that successful language learners apply
when they are learning a new language. The central idea is that to
learn a new language you had best focus on communicating before
anything else. This has a number of implications for how to think
about the language-learning process:
To think about things in a new way means that you have the opportunity to
tackle them in a new way. When you have a new way of thinking, it’s useful
to have a new word to capture that new idea. That’s what words are for.
A good word makes it easy for us to remember a new way to think. It
gives you a tool to analyse things in a new way. To remember what you
have read. Remember what has been said. To put a complex idea into a
simple packet. Of course, we’re allowed to create new words when we have
a new idea we want to express.
This new word is a very important for learning language because it
makes a distinction that can, quite subtly, change the way that you listen to
language.
This new word is ‘audibol’.
What is it? Let’s first take an excursion into the brain, and explore more
about how we understand our worlds. After all, that’s what we use language
for — to describe our worlds. At the same time, language is also an
important part of our worlds.
You have probably realised that, when we say ‘word’, we are generally
referring to the triangle of audibol, symbol and meaning.
Remember, as a child, when you learned your first language you were
discovering the link between audibols and meaning, not between written
symbols and meaning, at least until some time had passed. Learning a
human language is about, first and foremost, mapping sounds to meaning.
Learning audibols, and the meanings that people give them. The process of
adding visual symbols (written words) comes later.
Same audibol, different meaning
Of course, it’s important to understand that within any language the same
audibol can also represent different things. So, in English for example, we
have an audibol that, when analyzed visually, looks like the image in figure
6.5.
This audibol represents three different English ideas — too; two; and to.
In the following visual analysis of the sounds of someone speaking, you
see short phrases that include the (to; too; two) audibol along with others.
See if you can spot the (to; too; two) audibol.
The most important idea to take away from this chapter is that, for the
most part, human language is about sound! I stress this point because,
although it may seem obvious to some people, many still seem to think that
learning to write words in a new language is the same as speaking the
language. While there is a place for reading and writing, it is not the
primary thing you need to do when learning to master a new language.
In fact, trying to learn to read or write too early can actually get in the
way of the language-learning process. This is how it happens. You start
with written symbols in the new language, let’s say French. With French,
you have virtually the same alphabet as you have with English. The only
problem is, these very same letters are spoken very differently from how
you speak them in English. A problem arises because your familiarity with
the English pronunciation leads you to say them more like an English
person than a French person would.
You then hear yourself saying the words and tend to remember them the
way you have said them. You are not saying them as a native would. You
are saying them using the letter-to-sound translations from your own
tongue. The more you practise this the more you lock in the wrong
pronunciation. What’s worse is that, as you practise, you even train your
brain to not notice the difference. This is partly where the foreign accent
comes from.
A much better way of doing things is to start with the sounds. Listen to
them, repeat them, and try to get them as close to native as possible. In my
experience you can get 80 to 90 per cent of the sounds quite correct in just a
few weeks. Once you have mastered the range of sounds in the language,
then it’s time to start looking at the written representation. At that time you
learn the written language with a different purpose than if you had started
writing on day one. Once you’ve already mastered the sounds you are
learning the rules that natives use to connect the visual symbols of the
language to the audibols of the language. This is a very different process,
with quite different results.
These questions and more are addressed in the chapters that follow.
7 Perceive patterns, practise
details
When you were younger there must have been days when the best thing was
just to lie in the grass, look at the clouds forming, and notice the one that
looked like a sheep, and the cloud that looked like a car.
Or maybe you have had days when you were driving to work, and you
noticed something about the traffic and said to yourself: ‘There is going to
be a bad traffic jam today.’ From that instant assessment, you took a
different route. You heard later on that a big traffic jam did occur. This can
only happen because your brain is designed to recognise patterns. It gives
you an evolutionary advantage. If you’re out walking on the grasslands of
Africa, and you catch a whiff of a certain scent, and hear a particular kind
of rustle in the grass, being able to put those things together quickly means
that you probably get to have dinner and then live long enough to have
babies. If you don’t recognise a pattern in time, you end up as baby food.
Baby lions’ food, that is.
Every minute of every day your brain is taking in information, and
scanning it for patterns. It prioritises, identifies and highlights the important
ones, then brings these into conscious awareness.
Now, what happens to this ‘pattern recognising machine’ when it doesn’t
receive patterns to recognise can be fascinating. Have you ever had to listen
to one, monotonous, continuous tone, for hours? Or sit and watch a blank
wall?
In 1989, I was on the northern tip of Ellesmere Island, in the Arctic
Circle. At the time I was part of an expedition that had set out to create a
story and raise global awareness about various environmental issues. It was
early spring, and 24-hour daylight was upon us. It was still well below zero,
even during the warmest parts of the sunniest days. One day was beautiful
— clear, cold, dry, and white. No wind. A perfect day for a walk. So I set
off.
I left the shelter of the weather station at Eureka, made my way down a
short slope, and headed out onto the frozen-over ocean. Ice mounds, small
and large, rose up around me, and the white terrain, tinged with blue,
stretched out for miles in every direction. All I could sense was the uneven
texture of the snow, and the muted ‘crunch ... crunch ... crunch’ under my
boots.
After some time, I decided to stop. Just to look around and appreciate the
scenery. As I stood there, motionless, I noticed it. Faint, at first, and then
slowly louder. A funny ringing, humming, sort of sound. Coming from
inside my ears.
It was so absolutely quiet that my brain had no sounds to work with. No
cars, no people. No birds or birdsong. No insects, no crickets chirping.
There was no wind, so there was no whistling or rustling. So, when I
stopped walking, the world became absolutely, totally, silent. My brain had
nothing to do, no sound patterns to recognise — so it had to make
something up. And my ears began to ring.
In order just to live a normal life your brain is constantly recognising and
evaluating patterns and, if there is no pattern, we make something up. We
use this same skill all the time to understand language. If we couldn’t
recognise patterns and separate them from noise, we couldn’t understand
someone over a noisy, long-distance telephone line.
It’s what makes you human. And it’s what makes language learning that
much easier when you recognise and use patterns consciously.
Brain soaking
You might realise, and you might not, that you can recognise patterns in a
language with little effort. You may not know what the patterns mean —
you still need to work that out — but you can still notice those patterns
when they happen. Things that repeat. Certain sequences of audibols.
Common phrases.
David, a friend who works as a consultant, was saying how he learned
Mandarin Chinese just by sitting in on meetings. Over time he found that
his comprehension of the new language went from zero to a little, and from
a little to a lot. Just by noticing the patterns. Today he is fluent.
Don, a businessman who travels around the world and has offices in 20
different countries tells the same story. No matter which country, or which
language, just be being exposed over time his understanding of all of those
languages has increased significantly.
When I was learning Mandarin I made a point of participating in Chinese
society. To get from the campus into the city centre, I’d ride the buses.
When you ride the buses in China you quickly get to know two phrases —
‘mai piao’ (buy ticket) and ‘wang li bian zou’ (move to the centre).
If you’ve been in any place for more than a few days, and become
engaged with that society in any way, then you will no doubt have noticed
something interesting. Without any conscious effort, you begin to be aware
of phrases and expressions that occur repeatedly in simple, everyday
contexts.
When you choose to do things like riding the buses, or going somewhere
on a train, you also get to meet fascinating people. Not to mention the deep
insights that you get into a culture.
Datong is a coal-mining city, north of Beijing. In winter, it gets really
cold. Imagine going there in 1982. Just a few years after China’s decision to
open to the outside world. Minus thirty degrees Celsius outside. Not much
warmer inside, especially since the window in your hotel room is broken,
and looks like it has been that way for a long time. And so you decide to go
and see the local attractions — giant Buddha statues in caves that were
carved hundreds of years ago.
You get on a bus, and head out of town. Of course, the windows on the
bus are broken, and everyone has their hat flaps over their ears, and their
hands placed inside the opposite sleeve of their coat just to stay warm.
Sitting there, freezing in the back of the bus on the way back into town
after the excursion, I was invited by two friendly People’s Liberation Army
soldiers to join them for lunch.
Together, we entered a small, local restaurant where we were served hot
jiaozi and fried noodles. This was accompanied by the obligatory alcohol
— rough, clear distilled spirits. My new friends made me feel right at home.
The place we were in was clearly a hangout for the troops. There was
another table with about six PLA soldiers, and they were drinking too. The
same white spirits that we were drinking — or rather, sipping — but by the
jug full. It was quite obvious that they wanted to take me on in a drinking
competition. For them it was a ‘face’ thing. Westerners drink a lot (or so
they believed) so taking one on and winning would prove their manliness.
My new friends sensed that I was not going to be any match for the
hardened drinkers on the other table, and graciously bowed me out of the
race before it had even begun. Luckily, my hosts felt responsible for my
welfare. It’s nice when you meet really decent people. Which happens very
frequently when you’re actively learning a language.
This was also the day when I realised that there are sections within
Chinese society where drinking is a virtue. And that there are people who
can drink incredible amounts. The soldiers on the other table were downing
their spirits by the cattie (500 grammes). Another interesting piece of
information. Seemed like the Chinese measured liquids by weight, rather
than volume, at least in terms of common speech.
It was in situations like this that I learned my Chinese — or, rather,
absorbed it. Of course, I did other things. I deliberately memorised phrases.
I read things. I practised writing simple letters to friends. But the most
important part of the learning was sitting on buses and trains, listening to
conversations around the table in a restaurant or at a friend’s home, and
moving around inside of, as part of, the society.
This level of exposure makes maximum use of your brain’s pattern-
recognising ability. Because you are exposing yourself to the whole
language, rather than building it up from little bits, your brain has the
opportunity to directly perceive how the whole thing hangs together.
This does not mean that you can speak fluently immediately. It does
mean that once you have a mental record of the patterns of the language,
repeated many times over, your own brain can pull the language apart in its
own way and at its own pace. And then offer up little bits for you to
practise. Or for you to be aware of on the conscious level.
As you listen to the language in context, with thousands of repetitions,
your brain automatically pulls out the highlights. It helps you to remember
words. Remember phrases. Remember things that you didn’t even
consciously try to remember, and you discover that you know exactly what
to say, and don’t remember where (or how) you learned it.
The contextual exposure creates gentle hooks into your mind, and
provides something that your brain can get to work on with its pattern-
recognition power. That word at the end of each sentence that gets stressed
so strongly. That funny sound that always seems to be somewhere in the
middle. That sound they make with their nose. How can any human being
make sounds like that? And it stands out for you.
Even more importantly, your brain notices the connections between
language patterns and life patterns. The head shake or the frown when a
Frenchman says non (no). The red face when somebody, in obvious
frustration and anger, says merde! — it’s obviously a curse, probably
related to some bodily part or function.
The word that goes with pointing at one’s own nose — probably means
‘me’. And you’re noticing differences, at every level, comparing what you
already know with the new culture.
You might notice that these people point to their nose when they are
talking about themselves, and you point to your chest. Not important. Just
something to notice and use. A habit of mind and body. A part of the
language.
After you’ve recognised a pattern, the next time it becomes easier. And
slowly, without even realising it, it has become a familiar old pattern. It has
become your friend. Even if you have not yet fully connected a definition to
it. And so your attention can move to other things.
In 1981 in China the first phrase that you were sure to hear when you
went shopping was ‘mei you — ‘don’t have’. Whatever you asked for, they
didn’t have it. You wanted some tennis shoes — ‘mei you. You wanted to
buy a cooking pot. ‘Mei you.’ It was a standing joke for everyone, including
Chinese people. The decade of ‘We don’t have it’.
You wanted a warm, furry, Russian style hat. ‘Mei you!’ Even though you
could see what you wanted placed in a rack behind the sales person. And
you really wanted to learn how to say: ‘What about that hat on the rack
behind you?’ And, just maybe, you wanted to learn a few stronger words as
well. A little bit of motivation on the way.
Of course, once you could ask that question you got very black looks in
response, and something along the lines of, ‘It’s reserved for somebody
else.’ Which was probably true, and after a few times you learned about the
idea of the ‘back door’ — gaining access to things because your
connections were better than other people’s.
What if you don’t have the chance to visit a new language community?
Of course, you can always get thousands of hours of exposure by just
listening to tapes, or by going over grammar books and lists of words.
Watch films and listen to music in that language. All of this will help. And
if for a large part of the time you just listen, allowing your brain to notice
things, the same pattern-recognising power of your brain will come into
play.
Have you ever wondered why children sleep so much? When they are
awake they are working very hard, and they need their rest!
It’s the same with children learning language. We might not see much
happening, but on the inside those little brains are working overtime. It’s
not just the brains. They are working their little mouths and tongues and
throats all at the same time, trying to master this funny behaviour of making
sounds to communicate.
And, if you ever get to wonder why they work so hard, you can imagine
what life would be like without language for them. They already know that
yelling, screaming, crying and wriggling only goes so far.
Because it’s so important, you work at it. Every day. Watch closely.
Observe. When you pay attention to children you will see that they actually
think about the language. They pick on small bits, from the overall pattern
that they have been hearing, and they practise those bits. Over and over
again.
They make up little tunes to sing to themselves to practise some words.
They take words that they know and use those words in places that
communicate a meaning, even though an adult would have chosen a
different, more socially acceptable, word to communicate the same thing.
My daughter, Michelle, is a goldmine of examples. When she was about
two-and-a-half, my wife was squeezing a lemon over a salad, and my
daughter blurted out: ‘The lemon is wee-weeing.’ A great example of using
a word that she knows, and using a metaphorical linkage to express
something that she wants to say.
Another great example was when she said, as I was reading aloud to her,
‘Daddy is talking to the book.’ When you think about it, this makes perfect
sense. The book is an object, I’m holding it, I’m talking out loud with my
attention directed towards the book. Clearly, I’m talking to the book! Oh, to
have the mind of a child. . . .
Some months ago, as I was writing this, my helper cooked lunch. When I
had finished, I said: ‘Thanks, Lori.’ My daughter immediately echoed what
I had said. Over the next few minutes we heard her saying ‘Thanks, Lori’ in
half-a-dozen different ways, with different intonations. Definitely paying
attention. Noticing different bits of the language in context. Then, focusing
in on one piece, and starting to practise it.
Just like the daughter of a friend in Delhi, who, on one particular day,
discovered the phrase ‘Oh, My God!’ Over the course of a couple of hours
she must have repeated it out loud several hundred times. And, each time
she explored a slightly different way of saying it, stressing different
syllables, using different rhythms. For most of one afternoon the sound of
‘Oh, My God’ could be heard coming from different parts of the house.
Practice, practice, practice. Play with the language. Pay attention. Do stuff.
When you realise how much children actually practise language, one
piece at a time, it’s no longer much of a mystery why they are actually able
to master it. If you approach it in the same way, just imagine. . . .
Children will manipulate the language to explore different parts of the
grammar. When you listen to them, you’ll hear sequences like:
‘Give money for Daddy.’
‘Peter has two monies.’
‘Don’t have money here.’
— Deliberately practising word substitution in sentences.
Or, on another occasion:
‘Broken already.’
‘Can’t take it out already.’
‘Finished it already.’
— Looking for and taking any and every opportunity to use the
word‘already’.
They don’t just practise randomly. Children really do think about what
they are doing. Walking in the hills one day we spotted a millipede on the
pathway, quietly making its way across. I squatted down with Michelle,
pointed to the insect, and said: ‘This is a millipede.’
She watched for a while, then indicated (by wriggling) that she had seen
enough and wanted to keep moving. A few minutes later she started to talk.
‘Minipede,’ she said.
Then, after a pause ... ‘Millipede!’
A few seconds later she said, out loud, talking to herself, ‘Milli not
mini!’ And then she began practising over and over again: ‘Millipede,
millipede.’ As clear an example as you could want of making mental notes,
and actually thinking about the structure of one’s mother tongue. Paying
attention. Doing things.
As an adult, learning a new language, this is all you need to focus on. It
doesn’t really matter which activities you do. What does matter is that you,
as a learner, are very actively involved — that you are paying attention, and
doing things. It could be anything. Going over grammar notes. Making up
sentences in your head. Trying to say something, anything, to the person at
the corner store. Just doing something.
Why is this the case? It has a lot to do with memory. There’s actually a
lot to say about memory. For now, suffice it to say that memory is greatly
enhanced by ‘deep processing’. Which means, the more ‘work’ that you do
with a word or an idea or a new piece of information, the more likely you
will be to remember it.
Truly effective adult language learners are just like children in their
approach.
Aileen, who was learning Japanese, created an arrangement with a local
Japanese couple. Every weekend she would spend half a day at their home,
speaking Japanese half the time, and English the other half of the time. She
had created a language community that she could be a part of and, at the
same time, had developed her own special language resource. This context
provided the chance for her to be active.
One of her strategies for learning was to take a piece of the language that
she was interested in and consciously work on it. She would identify a
structure, such as a word ending, and she would actively find excuses to use
it.
Emily, who was learning Arabic very quickly, also took a very active
approach. She would deliberately walk around her house, talking to herself
in Arabic. Imagine walking around the house saying ‘door’, ‘shoe’, ‘fork’,
out loud in your new language, whenever you lay eyes on a different object.
That’s what she was doing.
The key, then, is to understand that in addition to perceiving a pattern you
need to actively work at practising it. If you can do it for patterns that you
have identified yourself, so much the better.
So, as a basic rule, actively pay attention to what is going on. Then, take
pieces of the language that interest you and practise them one by one until
you’ve got them mastered. It’s much better to master small chunks very
well, than struggle with great volumes of vocabulary that would overwhelm
almost anyone. This is because, when you have the right small chunks, you
will be able to communicate quite effectively (if not elegantly) in a very
short space of time.
In this chapter we’ve looked at the importance of getting deeply
immersed in a language group if you want to learn the language.
There are strong reasons for this:
‘Me, you together eat go,’ says the man with the hat. You’ve just arrived.
He’s one of those people who has found that it’s exciting, or maybe it’s just
fun, to connect with people from other places. He’s found a way to make
the effort to learn some words — just a few — and string them together.
And so, it’s off to lunch you go. And you realise that something
interesting is happening. You’re communicating, though the English
grammar certainly doesn’t follow the rules that you’ve grown accustomed
to during your life! Which demonstrates one key thing — knowing words is
far more important than knowing grammar. Especially when you’re just
getting started.
If you’ve ever had the opportunity to be with a person who is learning
your language, you’ll maybe recall that you never really bothered to correct
their grammar, unless you really didn’t understand what they were saying.
So, in a real sense it wasn’t even a correction. It was merely an enquiry for
clarification. An enquiry that the other person would have naturally and
easily used to improve understanding and accuracy.
To give a sense of the importance of words, even in the face of
‘inaccurate’ grammar, I’ve included a paragraph from a letter sent to me by
a Chinese man with whom I occasionally correspond. He has aspirations to
become a personal coach and counsellor.
Now the girl says that her life is bad, and wants to communicate with me.
Now I will play a role as a consultant. I am glad that I have make the
desicion that her growing is the prior thing so I can communicate with
her more reasonable (as a consultant, maybe I should only focus on her
problem and growing. Now I am easy to change to it). But only after a
half night of sleepless after that evening I talked with her I made sure this
point and wrote it down.
Now, the girl says that her life is in a mess, so she wants to communicate
with me. I’ve now decided to play a role as her personal consultant. I’m
glad that I have been able to take the decision to make her growth my
priority. This means that I can communicate with her more reasonably
(as a consultant, I think that maybe I should only focus on her problem
and her growth. It’s easy for me now to get to that way of thinking).
However, I only got to this understanding after a sleepless night. This
happened the evening after I talked with her, confirmed this point, and
wrote it down.
Among other things, you’ll notice that when a word is misspelled, you
can generally understand the intent of the communication. The same is true
for grammatical issues. Of course, wrong word order, the wrong tense, and
other ‘problems’ mean that you, as the reader or listener, need to work
harder. In those cases where the meaning is truly ambiguous it’s generally
because of a wrong word (e.g., prior instead of priority, reasonable rather
than reasonably/ rationally, made sure this point for confirmed). In the face
of such ambiguity, you would need to check with the writer or speaker. And
that is where they would get their feedback.
Ultimately, words matter most. You can communicate a great deal of
meaning with just one or two words. This happens because words are the
little packets that open the scented picture boxes in your mind, and allow
images, sensations and feelings to flow inside you as somebody talks or as
you read words on a page.
So to be successful at learning your new language, you need to master
words. You learn to tame those units of meaning that you can throw to
others across time and space. Little encapsulated ‘thought balls’, wrapped
in a bundle of frequencies and shapes.
You can begin to imagine moving into a new culture, surrounded by
people who are different. They may look the same, but when they open
their mouths they sound different. Maybe a little different. Maybe very
different. The world around you might seem totally awash in sounds that
you don’t understand. Or, you might have chosen to make things silent, so
that you can go through life filtering in such a way that you do not notice
everything. Even so, you know that sooner or later the noises and
expressions of this place will come to be part of the playground in your
mind until, sooner than you think, you have mastered the meanings,
sculpted the sounds, and morphed into the culture.
Things to remember:
So, you charge right off the ice, into the water. It’s cold. With the shock
of the sudden cold, it was so easy to reach for a life-saver. Your own
language. It’s familiar. You know how to express yourself. You can
understand. And you know that this is not helping you. Like the young man
buying noodles on the ferry that I mentioned in Chapter 1. Asking how to
say it right, mimicking beautifully, and finally grasping for a life jacket of
English words even though he was still on safe ice.
Now, of course, you can understand that the metaphorical ice upon which
you stand has a particular quality to it. It attracts water from the
surrounding ocean, turns that water into ice, and so your platform grows
ever larger. It’s useful to think about how the speed of ice formation around
your little platform depends on the strength and thickness of the block you
are standing on.
It’s important to notice that the more ice you add around the edges of
your platform, the stronger the centre of the platform becomes as well.
Everything compacts towards the middle, allowing more and more stability
for things to grow outwards.
There’s also something strange about the ice upon which you stand. You
will discover that the more you walk on it the stronger and thicker it
becomes. And the thicker it becomes, the more new ice it can attract.
Deeper and wider. A bigger slab attracts more to itself, partly because it has
a bigger surface area. Which leads to more attraction, which leads to an
even greater surface area.
Of course, when the core is small, there is not much surface area to attach
new things to. So, at the beginning, it grows very slowly.
As your word platform grows, the bigger it is the faster it will grow,
because there is more area to attach new things to.
As you enter into your new language and culture, at first you may be
curious about how quickly or slowly you seem to get new words. And you
are laying down important foundations. One word doesn’t give you much
‘surface area’ to work with. Two words are better. Four better still. You get
to eight, and notice that it seems to be getting easier, even if only a little.
Until very soon you can have a nice core from which to begin your
building. And as your core grows, your learning accelerates even further.
Things to remember:
In any language, you’ll find metaphors and turns of phrase that sum up
concepts beautifully. Simple little things that encapsulate a slice of reality,
that make it easy to remember, and maybe make you smile.
Take buses for instance. In many countries buses are labelled by route
numbers. So you take the number 22 bus. Or the number 17 bus. And you
can always find a way to play with words. So, someone asks you how do
you get home (meaning, what mode of transport) and you answer, quite
simply, with a sweet little smile on your face, the number 11 bus. If you’re a
foreigner in China and you say this, people will take you quite literally, and
ask you which stop it leaves from.
You smile. A slow pause ensues. Then, almost as if by accident, it slips
into mind that you are using a common Chinese metaphor. The number 11.
Oh, how funny! You really do understand our culture!
Eleven; two vertical lines, two legs walking. You’ve slipped quietly and
unobtrusively into using a mix of visual and language metaphor. You are
playing with the communication. Making a visual/verbal pun. Thinking like
they do. Another step forward.
The metaphors in any language help you to understand the language, the
culture and, ultimately, yourself. Every metaphor is really an attempt to
throw light on the human condition. It can help you to understand a new
concept, or a new way of doing things. And, for each new metaphor that
you understand, your world gets bigger.
A wonderful idea that comes out of Chinese martial arts is that of ‘four
ounces redirecting one thousand pounds’. It refers to a kung fu master
fighting with someone many times larger and physically more powerful.
The master knows how to move and how to touch the larger person in such
a way that the power is redirected, the master is unharmed, and the assailant
is defeated. The Japanese call it aikido. The Chinese talk of tai chi. The
same principles apply. That’s leverage. Efficiency. Multiplication. Minimal
effort for maximum gain.
The point is, as you learn your new language, always look for words and
phrases in the language that are ‘efficient’ and that give you ‘leverage’.
Something that’s efficient is a part of the language that gets you a lot in
return for a minimal amount of effort. Start by finding the one or two words
that you can use many times in a day. Eh? What’s that you say? Yes . . . you
can probably begin to get a sense of what we’re thinking about here, words
like ‘what’, ‘you’, ‘say’, ‘eh’.
Certain words get used over and over again, 10, 20, 100 times a day.
Some words you might only come across once in a blue moon —
infrequently. What’s easier to say? ‘Infrequently’? Or ‘once’, ‘blue’,
‘moon’, ‘in’, ‘a’? Which of the words are more likely to be common and
basic in a language?
When you go for words that are used frequently, you get many
advantages. You will have a great many opportunities to hear and recognise
these words. It means that, if you’re like me, and keep forgetting words that
you’ve just heard, you get many second chances. Over time you just won’t
be able to help yourself. You will have come across a word, and decided it’s
important, and decided to remember it.
An hour or two later, you want to use the word but can’t quite remember
it. Just then, someone else uses it. And you recognise it, which means that
you’re over half way to remembering it for good. And you repeat it out
loud, under your breath to yourself, and start looking for another
opportunity to use it — soon. Thus, words are learned.
Another advantage of focusing on frequently used words is that, when
you speak, you will sound like a common, everyday citizen. No big words.
Nothing fancy. Nothing pretentious. You just quietly slip and glide into the
everyday life of the world that you have just joined.
Many of the efficient words that you will focus on initially have an extra,
added advantage. They get you lots of feedback. You say a little something,
and you get a torrent of speech in return. You ask a question, and you get an
answer. So, like a child you could learn: ‘this one is... ?’ And begin to use it
every five minutes.
‘This one is... ?’
‘Cup,’ comes the answer.
‘This one is... ?’
‘Tree,’ is the reply.
And so on. Hundreds of times in a day. And, you might only ask for five
things, and then work with them all day until they are a core part of what
you can use. You will know that you know, because you would have tested
yourself. Seen an object, and told yourself, quietly out loud, what it is. See
tree — think tree. See cup — think cup. Repeat to self this is a cup, that is a
cup, that is not a cup’, ‘that is not a cup’ ... quietly practising to make every
little piece automatic.
And then, of course, there are the social graces. Things like ‘please’ and
‘thank you’. You get to hear them over and over and when you use them
they will create rapport with other people, and encourage them to talk with
you. Even if it’s just to say things like ‘you’re welcome’. Or, ‘don’t mention
it’. If you’re interacting with people you’ll have lots of opportunities to use
these words and phrases. At least for three meals a day, several times at
each meal.
You’ll notice it with children quite frequently. Around age two, Michelle
learned ‘excuse me’. So, we would be on the stairs and wanting to get past
she would really emphasise ‘excuse me’.
I would be sitting on a sofa, and she wanted to sit where I was: ‘excuse
me’. Dozens of times a day, in many different situations, making maximum
use of the opportunities that you create or that present themselves.
Question words clearly give you a lot of leverage. ‘When’, ‘what’,
‘where’, can be used all day, every day, for just about anything. ‘When are
you coming over?’ ‘When is the next meeting?’ ‘Where is my coffee cup?’
‘Where is the tape recorder?’ Endless possibilities.
Finally, you have ‘pointer’ words. Words like ‘thing’, ‘there’, ‘that’.
These are highly efficient. You can point to something, talk about ‘that’ and
be understood. This will also lead to the other person talking more to you,
because they’re likely to say: ‘What? Oh, that! We call that a _____’. You
generate rapport, you communicate, you get feedback, and you get
elaboration. All helping you to build upon your core.
There aren’t that many of these to learn, and you can use them all over
the place, all the time, every day. Four words, a thousand meanings.
Four ounces tips over one thousand pounds.
To remember:
A word gives you leverage if it helps generate interaction with other
people, if it can be used in many different places, and if it leads to
other people talking a lot (which in turn allows you to get more
exposure to the language).
To get much practise, and much communication, for minimum effort,
remember to look for the following types of word:
In order to get the pump to work, you needed to put a little bit of water
into the tube. This did two things. It made the plunger expand a little as it
took on water, and it filled air gaps with water, helping to create a vacuum.
Then the pump would work. This action of putting a little water in a pump
so it would work, and then pump water, was called priming the pump.
Today , we say ‘prime the pump’ to mean doing a little something to
make a much bigger thing happen.
‘Kick-start’ is another example. When you think about this one, you
begin to realise how ubiquitous motor-vehicle metaphors are within modern
English. Kick-start comes from starting a motorcycle, no doubt. Going ‘flat
out’ (very quickly) probably comes from having the accelerator of a car
pushed flat to the floorboards.
A thought worth keeping in mind is that, whatever language you are
learning, when you focus on the metaphors and use very concrete, everyday
words, you communicate a great deal very effectively. By learning
metaphors you also learn much more about how people think about life and
the world. This is because their metaphors tell you a lot about the tools and
technologies that have been important to them and so they help you to focus
in on key elements of a culture.
But before you can get there, you have to prime your pump. Learn the
skeleton words and phrases. Kick-start your learning.
At the same time, even a few skeleton phrases that you have learned
already give you a lift into the language. They make you worthy of
attention. This is important. Even just a few words and phrases, spoken with
intent to communicate, can make you more accessible to native speakers of
a language.
These phrases communicate more general messages about your intent.
They communicate that you respect the people that you are with. It’s
guaranteed there’s nothing that demonstrates respect quite as convincingly
as making a true, honest effort to speak someone’s language. Even with just
a few words. When I visited Vietnam to run a workshop in the late 1990s, I
only had 24 hours in the country before the workshop. I used this time to
master some skeleton key phrases. I got maybe five or six under my belt
(another metaphor — notice how physical metaphors are peppered
throughout a language) before the workshop began. One entire set phrase
that I memorised went something like: ‘I’m sorry, I’ve only been here a few
days, so I don’t speak Vietnamese.’
Actually, when you say something like this to people you get a
fascinating response. The content of what you are saying communicates ‘I
don’t speak your language.’ The fact that you are using the language, albeit
only a couple of phrases, communicates ‘I do speak your language.’ The
increase in closeness is palpable.
So, what are the Week 1 starter kit phrases? The ones that are useful to
gravitate towards are:
You can, of course, work out your own phrases. Just visualise the situations
that you are likely to find yourself in, think what you would want to ask, or
say, and start from there.
The starter phrases that you begin with will initiate you into your new
language. Pick the right ones, and you’ll have lots to say, and your brain
will get used to using a new language to say it. You’re on your way.
Of course, you don’t want to be saying ‘please repeat that’ as your only
phrase for the rest of your life. The question of how to build beyond these
very basic phrases is dealt with in the next chapter.
This chapter has introduced the very important idea that words are
more important than grammar. As you master more words, you will
be able to communicate more widely. This is because the act of
combining words is what makes language so effective. To apply this
idea, you should pay attention to the following things:
Eerie. Three people walking down the main street deeply engaged in
animated conversation. Clearly disagreeing. Expressions shifting,
contorting, the momentary smile, the look of frustration, suddenly moving
to anger, then relief. Slow understanding, apparent agreement. All done in
total silence. ‘Words’ exchanged, meanings contemplated, and not a sound.
Eerie.
You may have come across a similar scene, especially if you live in a
place where people still walk around on the streets, and interact with each
other face-to-face. You may even be one of these people, exquisitely skilled
in communicating with two totally different forms of visual symbol. Words
on a page, and the rapid flicking of fingers in animated conversation. The
world of sign language. Language communities that share an important
experience — the experience of being unable to make verbal sounds, or
being unable to hear them, or both.
Or you may have come across people from another land who, on their
own, by dint of sheer will, have learned your language from books. They
can write something that you understand. They can read a book, or a note
that you give them, yet they can’t communicate verbally. It’s actually a real
problem for many people in China who have learned English mostly from
textbooks. They can write a credible piece of English prose, and respond to
correspondence with little or no difficulty. Yet making a phone call
incapacitates them and if you ask them about how well they speak English,
they will honestly tell you that they are next to helpless.
My Indonesian friend, in talking about her experience learning French,
made the point very strongly. She initially learned French in Singapore, and
then in America. She could read it and write it. But, when she went to
France she felt totally helpless. She could only understand oui’ and ‘non.
The rest was totally beyond her.
Clearly, it is possible to have language without speech — without the
sound part — because you can think of language as being simply the
stringing together of symbols, using some form of rule structure (called
grammar or syntax) to create a larger meaning. Yet, for most people in the
world, to have language without speech is viewed as being handicapped.
Think of any foreigner whom you know that speaks your language.
Evaluate in your mind where, on a scale of one to ten, that person falls in
terms of their level of competence in your language.
Now, for those who are eight and above, what is it about their
communication with you that makes you think they are so good? Is it the
words that they use? Their breadth of vocabulary? What about grammar?
Or is it something else? Is it that they pronounce words just like they should
in your language? Is it that they seem to understand everything that you
say?
On the left we have audibol 1. Let’s say it represents the concept ‘words’.
On the right we have audibol 2. It represents the concept ‘worst’. The
pronunciation for both audibols can vary within a certain range, and still be
understood by a native speaker. There is an area between the two where the
sound that you hear could be representing either ‘words’ or ‘worst’ or even
‘what is’.
This happens because, just by changing the shape of our mouth, or the
position of the tongue, even slightly, we can change the sounds that come
out.
Thinking about it simply, audibols have fuzzy edges. They are not
absolute. A range of sounds can represent the same audibol — within
limits.
It’s actually the same with letters, or other visual symbols. At what point
does an ‘a’ become ‘not a’? To go further, at what point does ‘not a’
become ‘d’? Or, when does ‘e’ become ‘not e’, and ‘not e’ become ‘c’? Or,
what about ‘f’ and ‘t’? At what point does one morph into the other?
Anyone who’s had the pleasure of trying to decipher untidy handwriting has
pondered this.
However, because you are learning this new language, and it requires you
to use your mouth, tongue, nose, throat in ways that you may have never
done before, you end up doing something like the first illustration in figure
9.4. As you can see, while you sometimes manage to get the sounds within
the range needed to be understood, you will tend to be all over the place.
Sometimes you will be way off. Sometimes you will be close enough.
Sometimes you will be perfect. And, initially at least, you will be very
inconsistent.
Obviously, because of your inconsistency, there will be times when
native speakers don’t understand what you are saying. Natural. Normal. To
be expected. And, just to be understood, you have to get better. More
accurate. Until you, finally, achieve ‘perfection’ — you sound like a native
speaker.
With practice, you will arrive at a situation where the sounds you produce
fit right within the audibol range expected of you in the new culture,
something like the second illustration in the figure.
So, how do you move from making sounds in a somewhat random way,
where your pronunciation is all over the place, to a situation where your
speech is indistinguishable from that of a native speaker?
The answer is something very simple — a ‘soundstat’ system — an
‘auditory thermostat’. Your action-reaction-connect loop applied to
pronouncing things correctly. You need a feedback system in your head.
Just as a thermostat senses room temperature, ‘decides’ whether the
temperature is within the acceptable range, and then turns on either hot or
cold air, you want to do the same in your head. Except you are doing it with
sound.
You have a goal of what you want to sound like — say the goal is
‘perfect native pronunciation’. You then say something, compare how you
did with your goal, and notice if you’re within acceptable limits or not. If
not, you try again, making small changes, and noticing whether or not you
have gotten closer to your goal or not.
An example. You are tired. You want to sleep. So, you say to the person
you are with ‘I want to go to bad.’ You hear it. You notice it sounds slightly
wrong. You try again. ‘Bad ... bead ... bade ... bed! Bed! I want to go to
bed!’ Got it! Yeah!
To remember:
In this chapter we have focused on the importance of sounds in a
language. While it may seem obvious, it’s important to realise that
most people in the world equate language with spoken language.
Technically, this is not correct but it is how most people view things.
So, quite simply, to truly master a new language you need to master
the sounds of that language. The better you do this the more fluent
you will become.
Some key points to remember to help you do this are:
Native speakers often don’t understand what you are saying, not
because you are wrong, but because they don’t expect a
foreigner to speak their language.
The second reason natives don’t understand is that they have a
very narrow band in their minds for how given audibols should
sound. If you stray too far outside those limits you are not
understood by most natives. You can be understood by native
speakers who don’t have such rigid boundaries about how
words should sound.
Because you will want to communicate with all native speakers
of a language, not just those with a flexible hearing system, you
will need to hone the sounds that you make in the language.
This means that you will have to build what I call a soundstat
system. Learn to hear yourself as you speak, and immediately
correct the sounds coming out of your mouth. Be like a
thermostat which keeps the room temperature just right.
When you begin learning a language it will be natural for the
sounds you make to swing wildly all over the place. As you
practise the sounds, your variation will become less until finally
each audibol fits neatly inside the range that will be understood
easily by a native speaker.
10 Tricks of the sound trade
Getting physical
Making the right sounds in any language is a totally physical activity. It’s
not abstract. It’s not intellectual. It’s muscle bound. Speech is totally
dictated by how we use our muscles, so it is limited by the range within
which our muscles can move.
Have you ever had the experience of playing a sport well, getting quite fit
at that sport, and then taking on a similar sport? For instance, maybe you’ve
played squash or racket-ball and then you decide to take up tennis.
The day of your first game arrives. Just a social game, and not too much
pressure. You’re looking forward to it. You feel confident. You’ve never
played before, but you’re sure it will be easy. After all, both games are
almost the same, aren’t they? They’re both just about whacking a little ball
all over the place with catgut strung over a wooden frame. Sure, there are
differences. But they shouldn’t be that important. Should they?
That night as you sit in a hot bath you reflect on the thrashing you
received, and how different the game is. You wonder why you hurt so
much. You also know that, the next morning, it’s probably going to feel
worse.
Yes, the two games look similar. You’re hitting a ball with a racket. But
they place different demands on the body in terms of which muscles you
use, when you use them, and even subtle distinctions such as the angle at
which you use the muscles. Just like your language.
About my third week in Beijing, in 1981, I woke up one morning with a
dull ache in my cheeks and throat. It even went into the very root of my
tongue. I couldn’t figure it out, but I felt like I’d been lifting weights with
my tongue, and that I’d been trying to open a door with my jaw. For the
next several weeks it was a matter of living with the constant background
sensation of muscles that you didn’t know that you had, and of having done
exercise that you weren’t used to.
The realisation slowly came that my face and jaw were hurting because I
was literally using the muscles in a different way. Chinese sounds different
to English, so the muscles get used differently. Speaking one language
requires you to use muscles that you don’t even engage when you’re
speaking a different language.
Allen, my Canadian friend who lives in Hong Kong, is fluent in several
languages. He told me that when he was learning German his throat hurt for
weeks as he worked to master some of the more guttural sounds.
Kevin literally drops the pitch of his voice, and begins making guttural
sounds from his throat when speaking Japanese. It’s the ‘samurai sound’.
The sound that virile males in Japan make when facing off in ritual combat
in the boardroom. It took months, and continued muscle practice, for him to
master.
Learning to pronounce a new language well is, more than anything, a
physical training challenge. You are learning to re-pattern the way you use
muscles in your mouth, face and throat. It’s like learning any new physical
activity. This idea is so important that you can be sure that, if you’re not
feeling muscles that you didn’t know you had, then you are probably not
getting the sounds right in your new language. Simple, really.
To remember:
Learning to pronounce a new language is a very physical activity.
When you are being successful at ‘getting’ a new language you will
literally feel it in your face and mouth. The slight aches and pains are
your feedback to tell you that you are improving.
To master speech in any language, treat it like a physical discipline.
Practise, many times over. In many different contexts.
11 Cracking the code —
scaffolding in the mind
‘Michelle give Daddy,’ says Michelle as she holds out her hand for the cup
of water that I am carrying. Of course, she means ‘Daddy, please give me
the cup.’ She doesn’t yet know how to use all of the words, and she has just
worked out what ‘give’ means. I’m guessing that, in her mind, because she
is the one who wants it, her name comes first. Then comes ‘give’ — the
instruction. The person being instructed comes last. It makes perfect sense,
despite being the exact opposite of how a fully fluent speaker of English
would say it.
Remember, language is a string of sounds, a line of audibols stacked up
in a row. This sequence is used to communicate ideas that, by their nature,
have many dimensions. Size, location, colours, relationships between
things. We can get all of that information as one flash from an image in
mind, but the audibols alone cannot hope to communicate all of the
complexity of the ideas in a person’s head. And so we turn to ‘structure’ —
the rules of a language that allow us to communicate beyond the words
themselves.
We are, of course, talking about grammar. The invisible rules that help us
take a string of sounds and make meaning that is far more complex than
meaning conveyed by the sounds themselves.
As he went on with his story, Patrick told us that he only had a few hours
to prepare himself before he made that test flight with the F-16. The
controls were totally different from other aircraft that he had flown. Instead
of the normal joy-stick and rudder pedals, the plane had a side-stick
controller on the right of the pilot’s seat and a throttle on the left.
Initially, we were amazed at how he could do such a crazy manoeuvre in
a jet fighter on his first flight. So he explained it to us.
Every aircraft has to have certain functions. It needs some form of
forward power. It needs something to change the flow of air over the wings.
It needs something to push the tail one way so the nose points where you
want to go. Patrick first looked for the specific ways in which the F-16
allowed a pilot to control those functions, and he was half-way there. For
the rest, he moved things around and felt how they worked, and he
imagined how the plane would respond to his touch. Then he took off, and
did his ‘crazy stunt’.
The same principle applies to language. Within language, there are
certain functions that will always be there. Functions to communicate the
relationships between words. Ways to express ownership, or who did what
to whom. Ways to talk about time and distance. Ways to express direction.
For instance, ‘I give the book to you’ and ‘You give the book to me’ have
almost the same words, but the action described is different. In English, the
key pieces that communicate the full meaning are ‘to’, the change from ‘I’
to ‘me’, and the word order.
Different languages use different techniques to communicate additional
meaning. For instance, in English, word order is an important technique. In
Italian, word order is much looser so other cues are more important.
In Mandarin Chinese word order is quite important, but it is less so in
Cantonese. As you get into any new language you quickly get a sense of
which cues are more important and which less so. And what is important is
that you understand how the different communication functions are
achieved in each language.
There will be ways to communicate about time, for instance. In English
we make use of a rule that says, ‘modify verbs to indicate whether
something is taking place in the past or present or future’. So ‘go’ becomes
‘went’, or ‘going’, or ‘will go’. In Chinese, it’s ‘add another time-marker
audibol before or after the verb’. ‘Qu’ becomes ‘qu le’ for the past. ‘Yao qu’
(‘want go’) is the future.
How do we communicate intensity? In English someone is not just happy
they are very happy, or extremely happy. In Cantonese however, someone is
not just hoi sum (literally ‘open’ + ‘heart’), they are hoi hoi sum sum.
Repetition of audibols is one important mechanism for communicating
intensity in Cantonese. There are other ways of doing it, but this technique
is quite favoured as a part of daily conversation.
In Mandarin, the preference is to say feichang kai xin (‘not’+ ‘normal’ +
‘open’ + ‘heart’) to communicate the same idea. So you can see that each
language has the following: the idea of ‘happy’ (an emotion), the idea of
varying levels of an emotion, and some way of expressing those ideas in
combination. So, as you go into any new language situation, you find
yourself starting to search, to ask yourself, ‘How to express happy?’ ‘How
to express level of happiness?’
As a working rule, no matter what language you are learning, you can
assume that the language will have some way of expressing the meaning
that you want to communicate. The trick, of course, is to find out how.
To do this, and to master the code of a new language, you can approach
the task in very much the same way that Patrick approached his test flight in
the F-16. Start with a sense of the ideas that you want to communicate, then
begin searching for how to do this in your new language.
As you are doing this, listen continuously to how others speak and notice
what seems to stay the same and what seems variable. What matters most?
Do native speakers keep the same word order, or does it seem to change in
some random way? If you think that it’s random, then you really need to ask
the question — do these people value that aspect of language to
communicate meaning? So, for example, do Italians care about word order?
You then start noticing things such as whether or not verbs seem to
change from one form to another. If they do, what are the patterns behind
the changes?
Notice the cues that people respond to, and identify which of these are
most important. Learn them by heart. Use them. Then build.
To give a specific example, let’s assume that you have decided to learn
Turkish. You want to be able to say ‘I know (something)’. And you also
want to say ‘you know (something)’ and ‘he/she’ or ‘they’ know
something. Because you are an adult, you already know that there must be
some way to indicate different ‘positions’ in relationships. ‘I’ is different to
‘you’ is different to ‘they’.
You already have that adult advantage. Children do not yet know that ‘I’
is different to ‘you’, and they need time to work that out.
You may have noticed, for instance, that a child might say: ‘Milk, give
you!’ What she means is ‘Milk, give it to me!’ She has heard you say: ‘Do
you want me to give it to you?’ You were pointing at her at the time, so she
thinks that ‘you’ is a different name for herself. So, she refers to herself as
‘you’.
So, here you are learning Turkish, for instance. You can try to discover
the rules of the language, by listening and patterning, and you will arrive at
your destination. Slowly building up a map of the language in your mind.
Or you can ask someone who will give you an overview. This overview is
like a high level map of the language, a map that you can use as your guide.
Your ‘language parent’ might tell you that, in Turkish, you change the end
of the verb ‘know’ in order to indicate ‘I’ or ‘you’ or ‘they’ know. This
person might even write out a table in Turkish to show you what they mean,
something like the following:
Since I know Chinese, as your Chinese guide I can explain the logical
concepts behind the map. So, for instance, wo means ‘I’ and ‘me’. It’s
always the same sound. It never changes, unlike in English.
Also, zhidao (to know) never changes, no matter who is knowing. You
don’t change verbs in Chinese. Simple.
The third rule for Chinese is that, if you want to talk about people in the
plural, you add men. So, ni (you) + men (plural) means ‘ya’all’ (you all).
Again, simple. Ya’all now have some very simple building blocks that
allow ya’all to say many different things.
It is these patterns of changes and relationships that make up the code of
any given language. As you learn a new language, you pay attention to
these patterns. You can just get a sense of what they are, and build up your
understanding over time. Or, if you have someone (or a book) to work from,
you can even draw up tables. When you do this, it is simply as a memory
aid to help you see the whole pattern in one place at one time.
If you decide to map out the different rules of the language code, you can
then use this to practise specific patterns. In this way, you will be able to
use those specific patterns much more quickly than if you had to figure
everything out. It doesn’t mean that you will be perfect. It does mean that
you’ll remember to use the rules some times. Then, with practice, it’ll
become easier and easier for you.
Layers of meaning
Michelle looked at me with that mischievous, almost wicked glint in her
eye, and said: ‘Take it here ... now.’ I was holding her yellow bunny which,
as you might imagine, was not appreciated. For a short instant I didn’t
move, choosing to misunderstand the command. She looked me in the eye,
the intensity of her gaze increasing moment by moment.
I decided to teach her a new distinction. ‘Bring it here,’ I corrected.
Michelle clearly didn’t care for my input, at least not at that very moment.
‘Bring’ . . . ‘take’ . . . she really didn’t care. It was the bunny she was after.
And, in her mind, she had already communicated enough for me to get the
message. A simple message, really. Physically transport one bunny from
there to here.
‘It’s mine! I want it!’ she said urgently, followed, very shortly, by the
faint hint of tears that threatened crying could soon follow. I handed over
the bunny.
That Michelle had confused ‘give’ and ‘take’ really didn’t matter. In just
a few months she had first understood the difference between ‘give’ and
‘take’ and, with a little more time, she was already in the habit of using the
two words appropriately.
Actually, she had communicated very well. She had already mastered
most of the distinctions in the phrase that she was using. To be complete,
the message needed to have several different pieces in it. One piece is the
final location of the bunny. In this case, it is with Michelle which, from her
perspective, is ‘here’. For the bunny to end up with Michelle it needs to
move through space. Because it’s a cuddly toy bunny it can’t walk on its
own, so needs to be carried by somebody. Both ‘bring’ and ‘take’ have,
within them, the idea that something is carried by someone.
In her statement, Michelle had managed to communicate ‘carry’ and
‘here’. I had to carry the bunny, and it had to arrive in her hands — ‘here’.
Although she said ‘take’ rather than ‘bring’, the directional idea wasn’t
absolutely necessary because her body language, and the situation itself,
removed all ambiguity.
I never used to think about how the words ‘bring’ and ‘take’ actually
carry two meaning components — the ‘carry’ component and the
‘direction’ component. It was only after I learned Mandarin that this
distinction became obvious to me. In Chinese ‘bring’ is actually two
characters — ‘dai lai meaning, literally, ‘carry come’. ‘Take’ is ‘dai qu —
literally ‘carry go’.
Simple insights like this lead to you realising that grammar and structure
aren’t just about providing memory hooks. Grammar also helps us
communicate abstract concepts.
You can use this method to actively help you learn any new language. As
you find yourself wanting to communicate certain things you can start to
ask yourself, and then others, how different concepts are organised in your
new language. You will be searching for abstract concepts such as
ownership, relationships to time, relationships between people, the direction
of movement and the like. These concepts seem to be those most frequently
encoded into the grammar of any language.
As with anything else in this book, of course, this is not an absolute. It is
just an idea that you can use to guide your attention. To help you focus on
specific parts of a language so you can tease out the reasons for changes
and patterns. Tease out the underlying ideas.
Each of us, at some time in our lives, has had the experience of misreading
a situation, of confusing one thing with another.
When I was at university I was training very hard in tae kwon do, the
Korean martial art. There was another student on campus whom I would
frequently spar with. Often, just for fun, we would trade mock blows with
each other in passing.
One afternoon, as I moved along the winding path between classrooms I
saw him coming along the path the other way. He didn’t seem to have
noticed me. Maybe his thoughts were somewhere else. I decided to surprise
him. Walking forward as though my thoughts, too, were somewhere else I
steeled myself and coiled my muscles like a cat ready to pounce. He was
about six feet away as I let loose. My left foot lifted off the ground and
curved rapidly towards his right cheek in a powerful round-house kick.
I stopped, my foot hovering about two inches from the side of his head.
Ilooked at the totally surprised, shocked look on his face. A shock that I
rapidlyshared. He looked like my friend ... then, as I examined him in finer
detail, itbecame apparent it was not. Oh ... s_ __! Wrong guy.
In situations like this, it’s important to recover very quickly. To retrieve
as much face and poise as you possibly can. To look ‘cool’. So I said, in my
best airline-representative–‘sorry sir, we lost your child’–voice, ‘I’m sorry, I
thought you were someone else.’ With the gracious smile, of course.
Obligatory.
His face still white, with a high-pitched voice tinted with surprise and
fear, he said: ‘You must have’ And, before another word could be spoken,
he got out of there as fast as he could. He was probably thinking that, now
we were introduced, I might treat him as a friend and show my friendship in
the customary way. A kick to the head, maybe, or something much worse.
More same than different
Mistakes like this are caused by one quite simple fact. Have you ever
noticed how, in many ways, we are actually very similar? It is very easy to
see one person and think they are another. You move to greet them
(hopefully not in as extreme a way as I did on this occasion), and then
realise that it was a case of mistaken identity.
You may, for instance, have seen someone on the street, who looks
exactly like someone you know. You could swear that it really is that
person. But it can’t be because the person you know is dead already. Or
they’re old, grey and fat. You are simply seeing a younger replica.
There are narrow faces with high noses, even in China and other parts of
Asia. Blond-haired, almost round Oriental faces in many parts of Europe.
Darken the skin or the hair, and you have someone who looks totally
Chinese. Lighten the skin and hair of someone in Japan, and they look
almost Norwegian. It’s almost as though there are categories of face that
can be found in every country, on every continent. Of course, we can tell
the difference between people, often because of the clothes they wear, the
jewellery, or the haircut. But, underneath the coverings and trapping, in
many important ways, we are more similar than we are different.
While the differences, as far as learning a new language is concerned, are
important, it’s the similarities that matter more — at least in the beginning.
People everywhere share a common, physical reality. We walk. We talk. We
eat. We drink. We have the consequences of eating and drinking. We sleep.
We perceive colour. We sense distance. Weight. Heat. Cold. Despite the
differences you will discover between your culture and all others, you can
be sure that many things will be the same.
‘Me hungry, want eat’ might not be elegant, but you’ll get fed.
Because of our common experience of physical reality, from the outset
you can focus your attention on what is the same rather than what is
different. You get to actively use the knowledge that you already have. I’ve
mentioned this very briefly several times. In this chapter I want to go a lot
deeper, and help you really make use of the advantages that you have as an
adult.
To make maximum use of your adult advantage, it’s useful to understand
and use three different ideas. I call them ‘chunks’, ‘world categories’ and
‘multipliers’.
To remember:
Within about two weeks of arriving in Beijing I met a man who would
change my life. His influence was not to be direct, but the indirect
consequences have led to me doing what I am doing in life today. He was
the starting point of a fundamental change of mind.
He approached me one afternoon in the yard when I was practising some
high kicks. At that time I hadn’t studied Chinese martial arts , so I was
practising the tae kwon do that I had learned in New Zealand. Through sign
language, and what bits of spoken language I could understand, he indicated
that he wanted me to teach him tae kwon do. And so we began.
Some weeks later, when I could understand enough for him to
communicate to me, he indicated that he knew of a Chinese kung fu master
who he thought I might like to meet. This man was looking for a foreigner
to whom he could teach his own form of Chinese martial art. My friend
suggested he should arrange a meeting, and I agreed.
The three of us met together a couple of weeks later. It took that long
because my friend couldn’t just pick up the phone and call this guy. He had
to make a special trip. In 1981, there was approximately one telephone per
street, or per apartment block, in Beijing. So, when you called someone, the
guard in the local guard box would pick up the call and then go off down
the street or into the apartment complex, looking for the person who had
been called. If you wanted to contact someone, it was easier to get on your
bike, or on a bus, and go look for them yourself.
The meeting did, eventually, get arranged. When he arrived, The Teacher,
as I came to cal l him , sized me up for a couple of hours, asking me to
show my stuff. Then he showed me some simple things, to see if I could
comprehend some of his ideas. And then, he asked if I wanted to become
his student. Eagerly, I agreed. And so began a journey that involved
excitement, great learning, injury, despair and many friendships.
The Teacher began by telling me what I could and could not do. Very
quickly he told me that most, if not all, sexual activity was to be curtailed in
order to support my training regimen. He said that only married people
should have sex, and then only once every three weeks at the most.
Otherwise, it would interfere with development of the practitioner’s chi —
vital, life force.
I was immediately put into a quandary. I had always seen people as being
basically the same. In my mind, it didn’t matter what race or sex someone
was, or where they were from, I had always assumed that we were pretty
much alike — which meant, like me. That outlook had helped me very
quickly master a lot of Chinese very quickly. Now, here, right in front of
me, was evidence that the surface might be very similar, while what is
going on inside the head can be very different.
What The Teacher was telling me conflicted with all that I had learned
within a Western environment. As I grew up and went to school, and
university, it had always been common knowledge that sex was good, and
the more you got the happier and healthier you would be.
After this shock, I spent days wondering who was right. Is my Western
education and way of thinking or the Chinese martial artist’s way the right
one?’
After several weeks I came out of my funk, but I hadn’t yet resolved my
dilemma. In fact, reaching that resolution took many years, much study and
many different experiences. At the time, however, I took what turned out to
be a very useful short cut. I said to myself, ‘If you’re going to get anything
out of this you better play the “as-if” game.’
In the ‘as-if’ game, you consciously decide to accept at face value all of
the ideas and assumptions held by the group of people you are learning
from.
The fun part is that you have the wonderful opportunity to begin thinking
about the world, and life, the way that those other people do. You discover
that there is a whole new system of thought that people are living by. One
that, within itself, is elegant, logical, self-contained and complete.
Your world gets bigger as you absorb entire concepts and ideas that you
have probably never encountered before. One of the earliest examples of
this that came to mind for me concerns distance. Not long after I arrived in
China I became restless, and wanted to begin seeing places. Of course,
when you want to go places, you generally want an idea of how far
somewhere is from where you are.
Growing up in New Zealand, we used to always talk about distance in
terms of miles. So, I knew that it was six miles from my home to my high
school in one direction, and seven miles to the city centre in the other
direction.
In Beijing, I remember going to one of my newly found friends and
asking ‘How far is it into the city?’ Of course, before asking the question I
had prepared myself for the answer. I actually spent a couple of hours
working out what words to use, and checking words for things like
‘kilometre’ and ‘mile’, as well as numbers. So, when the answer came back
I would be able to understand it — or so I thought.
So, I asked the question. I got my answer. And I didn’t understand. In
answer to: ‘How far is it to the centre of Beijing?’ I got something that
sounded like ‘45 . . .’ and missed the rest. My mind began racing madly,
thinking ‘It can’t possibly by 45 miles, or even kilometres, to the city
centre!’
I was lucky. The friend I had asked was one of those people who will
take time to slow down, think, and help you work it out. He explained to me
that, in China, people never talked about distance. They would always talk
about time.
Initially, it didn’t make any sense to me at all! Distance was the only
thing that made sense! Then it clicked again. Play the ‘as-if’ game. Let’s
assume that talking in terms of time rather than distance actually does make
sense.
So I did. The more I talked in terms of time to get somewhere, the more
comfortable I became with the idea. Even today I remember that it’s 76
hours from Beijing to Urumqi, and 55 hours from the city of Xi’an to
Beijing. It’s 33 hours from Beijing to Guangzhou. Of course, all of these
times suggest that there is only one form of transport. And, when I was
learning my Chinese there was only one common form of long-distance
transport — the train.
If you are a person who flies a lot, then you will understand this idea.
You probably don’t know how many miles it is from one city to another. At
the same time, you will know flying time, and time on the ground.
Practically, this knowledge makes more sense to you, because you can
literally plan your life using this way of thinking.
If something is 100 miles away but you have the ability to teleport, the
distance has very little impact on how you organise your life and your time.
If you have to walk the distance, however, you probably have to dedicate a
week to do that.
The important thing to remember is that, to be effective, the way you
think about the world needs to take into account the context in which you
find yourself.
I recently got caught out with my assumptions around time versus
distance when I was in Los Angeles. I was staying at a hotel in Beverly
Hills, attending a seminar, and decided that I wanted to buy some software.
I asked somebody on the hotel staff where the nearest store was and he gave
me an address. When I asked him how far that was, he said: ‘Ten minutes.’
I thought to myself: ‘That’s really close,’ and I set off with my friend to
walk to the store. Big mistake. In LA nobody walks. Everybody drives.
Which meant that the store was something between four and eight miles
away — a walking time for me of between one and two hours. I never did
find what I was looking for, although the need to be sensitive to the context
I was in was something I clearly relearned at that point!
Today, I live on an island within the territory of Hong Kong. How far is
my island from the business district called ‘Central’? I don’t know how
many miles, but I can tell you that it is 30 minutes from ferry pier to ferry
pier. Plenty of time to read a newspaper, have a cool beer, chat with a
friend, or even get a bit of shut-eye.
The key idea here is that every group of people thinks about the world in
ways that make sense and are convenient for their practical, daily living.
You may have heard that, whereas English only has one word for snow,
the Inuit (Eskimos) have many. These words reflect knowledge about
different types of snow that they have acquired over generations. This does
not mean that a speaker of English cannot perceive different qualities of
snow, but it does mean that different qualities of snow are probably
irrelevant to most English speakers living in cities. If you live in the Arctic,
and you use this ‘snow’ stuff as building material, then having names for
different types of it does matter, a lot, daily.
You could also assume that Inuits don’t distinguish between particle
board, plywood, veneer and other types of wood. If you are a home builder
in North America, then these distinctions do matter.
The importance of such distinctions became clear to me when I started to
learn how to use a sword in my martial arts training. There are many
different, subtle motions that one can do with a sword. To use a sword well,
you need to understand these differences.
For instance, there is pi, a motion wherein the sword hacks downwards.
Similar to pi is dian (literally ‘point’) where you start by hacking
downwards with the whole blade, then change the motion so that the handle
raises up, and the point continues downwards. This is a useful trick to help
you get a cut in on an opponent when he is trying to block you.
I like to think of the different ways that different people have
conceptualised the world by using different diagrams (below).
To remember:
It was the middle of the last decade of the last century, and I was running a
two-week accelerated Mandarin course for Westerners in Beijing. On day
10 of the 14-day course Ray, a 50-year-old Australian, came up to me and
said: ‘You know what I’ve just discovered?’
He was really excited, and the discovery was clearly a real big deal for
him. I was curious. He went on: ‘I’ve just worked out that you can’t speak
Mandarin with an Australian accent!’ Obvious, really. But it goes much
further and deeper than that. It reminded me of the journey I had been on,
and the dawning of an understanding about the non-verbal aspects of any
language.
Have you ever been in a place where you noticed a group of people in the
distance and you knew immediately that they weren’t speaking your
language? Maybe you could even tell what language they were speaking,
even though you couldn’t hear a word of it. How does this happen?
I like to think that the whole process of non-verbal communication has an
‘envelope’ to it — a shape and a texture. This shape and texture is different
for each different language. Mimics and comedians use this difference in
shape and texture to caricature different language personalities.
Think, for a moment, of the various cultural caricatures that you have
been witness to. Maybe you’ve seen the British aristocracy caricatured.
What was it that made the caricature work? Maybe it was stiff necks,
straight backs, a very serious look on the face, a setting of the lips in that
very ‘British’ way.
Or maybe it was a French caricature. What made that so obvious?
Exaggerated pursing of the lips, accompanied by that little frown? Or,
perhaps, it was the movement of the hands?
Other cultures may, for some, be even easier to caricature. Take the
Indian head waggle, for example, or the Japanese bow.
In 1982 as I worked on filming a movie in Beijing, I was introduced over
lunch to a young lady. I was fairly sure that she was Japanese, but she
insisted that she was from Mainland China. Being young, playful and quite
determined I set out to test my guess. First, I pointed out that her Mandarin
was too perfect, with choice of words and articulation so much better than
one would expect from a native speaker. She countered by saying that she
was in broadcasting, and so had to pay careful attention to her speech.
I then pointed out that she was somewhat shorter than the average
Beijing native, to which she replied that she was of southern stock, and that
she had grown up in Beijing.
I wasn’t going to give up, so I pointed out that she hadn’t eaten much of
her rice and that I believed this to be due to the fact that Japanese people
didn’t much care for the varieties of rice eaten by the Chinese. She insisted
that she was simply watching her weight, and did not feel particularly
hungry.
By the end of lunch I was no further forward, and almost beginning to
believe that she was, in fact, from China. But, we had one more opportunity
to play. After lunch we all adjourned to a friend’s room to hang out until we
were called for filming. I was there two or three minutes ahead of this
young lady. Without really thinking about it, when she walked into the
room I bowed to her in greeting, Japanese-style, hands by the sides, a
sudden bend forward from the waist. Chinese people do not bow to each
other in this way.
Her eyes widened just a little and a strangely conflicted look appeared on
her face. The automatic programme that made her bow whenever anyone
bowed to her was kicking in. She knew it, and she consciously tried to stop
it. It looked like there was a hand on the back of her head, about to push her
down. She fought it, but succeeded only for a split second or so. Then she
dropped into the bow.
She came up out of the bow position, and tore across the room, her fists
swinging. She then stopped and jumped up and down a couple of times in a
gesture of total frustration before both of us burst into hysterical laughter.
All the work she had done trying to convince me that she was Chinese
had been undone. Clearly, language was more than just words. Her words
were, indeed, perfect. Her pronunciation was perfect. Just some non-verbal
parts gave her away.
The point of all this is that any language is so much more than just
words. It is, ultimately, a way of being in the world. Any language includes
a certain pace and rhythm. It has a sense of timing, with different gestures
and expressions. There are different postures, different intensities, different
ways of using your eyebrows. And, believe it or not, it is these things, along
with your pronunciation, that people use to determine whether you are an
outsider or part of the in-group. Communication at this level is incredibly
powerful.
Maureen grew up in Hong Kong and speaks fluent English. She is married
to a German man, but never really learned German.
‘When Paul and I met his relatives,’ she wrote recently, ‘I was able to get
the drift of what they were saying. Paul would query that, as they speak
little English and I speak little German. Upon reflection, it was the strangest
thing. It was like I could understand about 50 per cent of what they were
saying, but I just couldn’t define which 50 per cent.’
Another example of knowing, somehow, what is being said without being
conscious of how this knowing happens. An example of using the Third
Ear.
Exclamation excavation
Non-verbals are not just the movements and rhythms of the body. Grunts,
groans, sighs and exclamations are all legitimate parts of any language. And
they are parts that we need to pay attention to. It is quite possible to have a
meaningful exchange in Japanese using just grunts and exclamations, with
no real ‘words’. Paying attention to the noises of a language outside the
words is an important part of the language learner’s repertoire.
So, you begin to notice those elements of the interaction between people
which are clearly more exclamation than word. You can generally tell,
because these sounds can be very frequent, and they are often accompanied
by quite noticeable physical movements and expressions. As you notice
one, you begin to repeat out loud, quietly to yourself at first, tasting and
feeling how it rolls around inside your mouth. You can even play a game
with yourself, imagining that you are the other person, and feeling how it is
to express sounds in that way. What emotions seem to go with it? Does it
feel weak, or powerful, or something else?
Of course, as you are doing all of this work inside nobody really needs to
know. All they will notice is that, for some strange reason, you actually
sound quite native. They might then speak to you in fully formed sentences
that, most likely, will be beyond your immediate level. So you smile
sweetly, and pull out the toolbox ‘I’m sorry, I don’t speak very well. Can
you repeat please.’ And the next little dialogue begins. Another chance to
practise and interact.
Ritual greetings
Another rich vein from which to mine the basics of a language is what I call
the ritual greeting — you know, ‘Mornin’!’, ‘How are you going?’ Those
little things that get used everywhere, every day. It’s interesting to note that
these sorts of phrases carry very little real meaning as words. They’re more
about sounds that allow people to acknowledge each other than they are
about talking. The phrases are social lubrication, and people use them this
way.
When you think about it, when you ask somebody ‘How are you today?’
you really don’t want to know the answer. Rather, you expect ‘Fine. And
you?’ You’re ‘tickling the network’, using speech as a way to maintain
some degree of social closeness. And this is why you want to practise these
things. You get to hear them a lot, so you have lots of models. You can’t get
into much trouble, because the likely responses are fairly limited, and you
get to work with expected results, which becomes comforting. Very soon
you’re on automatic, and it’s time to expand into areas where you can’t
quite know what to expect.
And so it was when I first arrived in Beijing. On day two when I met
‘Mao’, my ‘cat’ friend from Bangkok, he taught me ‘Zenme yang?’ —
‘Howz’it goin’?’ Simple enough, and for the first week I must have used it
hundreds of times. ‘Zenme yang?’ I would ask Mao every time I saw him.
He would respond with ‘Zenme yang,’ and we’d both smile. We had greeted
each other in Chinese, and that was all that mattered.
‘Zenme yang?’ I would say to a Chinese friend. ‘Hao’ (fine), would be
the answer. 'M neV (and you?) Or sometimes it was something else, which I
didn’t understand but nobody seemed to notice. We were making noises,
smiling and nodding, and that’s all that really mattered. That’s the nature of
such greetings.
When I was learning Cantonese I had a slightly different approach. I got
to use a friend’s office to work out of, and all day long the girls who worked
in the office would be using the phone to discuss business. It didn’t take
long to realise that wai meant hello. Then, after a while, that ‘uh ... uh ... uh
...’ meant ‘aha ... aha ... aha’. So I started to practise. When my phone rang,
I’d say, quite proudly, ‘Wai!’ And, when I was listening politely to someone
I’d say ‘uh ... uh ... uh.’ It definitely seemed to make a difference!
Rhythm
Rhythm is an important part of any language, and when you
master that part of a language you are that much closer to
fluency. Focusing on non-verbals very quickly helps you to
become aware of rhythms in the language, and then master
those rhythms.
Safety
People everywhere evaluate others in terms of ‘inside’ and
‘outside’. You’re either ‘one of us’ or you’re not. The accent with
which you speak, along with the other non-verbal behaviour you
use, are the best indicator of whether you can be considered as
friend, foe, or be ignored. By mastering body language as a first
step you rapidly break down the barriers between you and the
people who speak the language you are learning. This creates a
closeness that helps you immensely on your learning journey.
Tuning fork
Using body language helps with your overall language learning
because of one other factor — it helps to ‘tune’ your brain. This
act of tuning makes the language sounds and structure more
accessible to you.
There are many techniques for working with body language. As a
beginner, some of the things you can practice include:
A major idea in this book is that you can learn a new language while
dealing with real people in real situations. You will not always be with
friends, or even people you know. This brings with it unique challenges.
When you learn in this way, you are not just dealing with language. You are
also dealing with relationships, different perspectives on the world, cultures,
and group issues.
When I say ‘group issues’, I mean that you will have to understand things
about group membership, and whether you have been accepted into a group
or are still seen as an outsider. You w ill need to understand regional
differences, and the relative status of different groups of people. This is
important because status is reflected in language, so the way you speak will
influence your perceived status.
For instance, if you are a man and you learn Thai from communicating
only with women, you will quite likely end up speaking the feminine form
of the language. This is much more ‘cute’ than the male form, and would
position you with a gender orientation that might not accurately reflect what
you wanted to project.
I recently heard a story of a Western man who learned Cantonese from
mixing only with a very rough class of people in Hong Kong and Southern
China. He spoke the language fluently, but you couldn’t take him anywhere
in polite society, because each time he opened his mouth there issued forth
a stream of obscenity. This was not really the most ideal outcome.
If you learn a language by immersing yourself in real-life contexts there
are a number of things that you need to pay attention to. This chapter
explores the main situations that you might expect to face. We look at how
to handle making a ‘social mistake’, and how to deal with the problem of
being ‘too fluent and not fluent enough’, both at the same time.
Managing misunderstandings
If you are trying to become fluent in a new language it is guaranteed that
you will have to deal with misunderstanding. You might be in a restaurant,
for example, and end up with something quite different from what you
thought you asked for.
Or, you could crack a joke, but people don’t laugh. They might respond
to you as if you are totally weird. When this happens you know that you are
making real progress. Why? Because people will only think you are weird
when they expect native behaviour from you, and you say or do something
that a native speaker wouldn’t. It shows you are fluent enough for them to
believe you understand all the rules and expectations of native behaviour.
Mistakes help you get better.
Whenever you make a mistake that creates a strange reaction in other
people around you, you should be happy. Because you can only realise that
you have made a mistake, or created a misunderstanding, if two things have
happened. The first is that you will have spoken, which means you are
actively engaged in using the language. The second is that your focus of
attention is outside yourself. This means that you are noticing how people
around you are responding. Your feedback loop is working. This, in itself, is
a powerful tool to support your learning.
When you see people misunderstanding you, how should you respond? I
like to look at the way children react.
Frequently, when she was around 18 month s old, if Michelle s aid
something and people didn’t understand her, she would just turn her back
and walk away. It was almost as if nothing had happened.
At other times she would scream, start pointing, jump up and down, and
do whatever it took for us to understand her.
Clearly, there were two levels of importance. In her mind, some things
just weren’t worth worrying about. She said it, you didn’t get it, so what?
Move on.
Other things were important! She wanted something, and she was going
to get it. If words weren’t working, then she would just have to try
something else.
As an adult, you can’t kick and scream if you’re misunderstood (well,
maybe not). If it’s really important, both sides will work at it and find a way
to make sure that understanding happens. They will start drawing pictures,
make gestures, pause and then try again. If needed, they’ll find someone
who can interpret the message.
If you are looking for some place, and you go to the wrong place because
you misunderstood the directions, you’ll either ask someone else and get
what you wanted, or you’ll decide to go for the ride and explore things that
you would otherwise not have been aware of. If you get food that you didn’t
order you can complain, or you can try something new and you might even
discover that you like it.
I recall the first time I came to Hong Kong for an extended stay. I was
sleeping on the floor of my friend’s art studio in downtown Hong Kong. It
was 7:00 pm, and I was hungry. He was working and didn’t want to eat, so I
decided to go out for some fast food. He gave me some directions and I
headed out the door.
I searched and searched, but I couldn’t find the fast food place that he
had told me about. Then, across the road, I saw a restaurant. ‘That must be
it!’ I thought to myself. I crossed the road and went inside. It was nicely
appointed, with antique looking chairs and nice white tablecloths. A
waitress motioned me to a table and handed me a menu. We struck up a
conversation in Chinese, and the banter began. She was excited that I spoke
Chinese, and so wanted to talk more to me.
After some time, I looked down at the menu. I tried to keep a straight
face as the prices worked their way into my brain. The food was expensive.
I had clearly wandered into a high-class restaurant, rather than the fast-food
place that I had been looking for. What to do? I could leave, but that was a
bit embarrassing. And, after all, I was having such a nice conversation with
the waitress.
I began to work my way slowly through the Chinese menu, trying to
work out what each dish was. Most of the names were poetic, so I
frequently had to ask the waitress exactly what the food was. After 10 or 15
minutes I finally settled on one item — a relatively inexpensive vegetable
dish — and a bowl of white rice. And that was it. I had broken the bank, at
least for that day.
Clearly, I had gotten my directions wrong. I didn’t get what I was after.
Instead, I met a new friend, got to learn the fancy names for some Chinese
dishes, and ate in a place that I never would have chosen in most
circumstances. Not bad for one little ‘misunderstanding’. How much more
fun could a person have with even more ‘misunderstandings?’
Remember that, as you learn a new language, it’s hard to make any
mistake that really matters. The only person who will really
remember your ‘mistakes’ is yourself, and you want that memory
because it’s memory for the language.
By playing naïve, and stressing that you are learning, you can get
away with lots of things that a native speaker never would. That
reduces the complexity of things a lot.
And, if people laugh at you, remember it’s an opportunity for you to
cash in on. Sooner rather than later, you will begin to understand
why it is so funny. At which point you will be well on your way.
Ultimately, growing slightly thicker skin will be of enormous benefit to
you.
16 Setting yourself up for
success
Throughout this book I have presented some tools and techniques, and a
number of ways of thinking that can help you learn any language more
easily and more effectively. And, as with anything that you may wish to
achieve in life, there is no magic pill.
There are two basic mindsets that seem to consistently get in the way of
learning a second language. One of them we’ve already talked about — the
mistaken belief that it is just too hard. I say it is a mistaken belief because if
an illiterate girl from Nepal can learn to speak English when she goes to
work as a maid in a foreign country then, brain damage aside, anybody can
learn any language.
The other mindset is that, somehow, magically, the language learning will
just happen without any effort on your part whatsoever. I know an
American guy living in Hong Kong who was trying to learn Cantonese
simply by (occasionally) exposing himself to the language. He did improve,
but the last time I saw him, he was a long way away from fluency.
Nothing worthwhile is ever totally effortless. You can learn a second
language quickly, elegantly, easily and enjoyably. But some effort is
required. I’m sure that you enjoy walking, and there was a time in your life
where you had to use some effort to learn how to walk. The effort was both
mental and physical. As a small baby, chances are you exhausted yourself
with your efforts to stand, and had to sleep several hours in the middle of
each day just to recover your strength.
It’s the same with language learning. You will need to make some level
of effort, and be consistent in that effort. There are other things that you can
do to set yourself up to be successful. This chapter provides some simple
guidelines as to ways in which you can best prepare yourself and ensure
success in your language-learning adventures.
One, two, three — set your priority
I can’t count the number of Westerners who have come up to me over the
years and said: ‘Oh, it’s wonderful that you speak Mandarin. I’d like to
speak Chinese too! Can you teach me?’
The first thing I ask them is how serious they are. They always tell me
that they are very serious. So, I have to ask the next question. I ask them to
think about all of the things that are important for them to achieve in their
lives. Then I ask them to list these in terms of highest to lowest priority. I
then ask where Chinese falls on the list. Usually, it comes somewhere
between item ten and item twenty, at which point I usually tell them not to
bother. If it’s not one, two or three it probably won’t happen.
I went through a phase in life where I watched every Chinese martial arts
movie that came along. First, there was Bruce Lee. Then, when I went to
China, I watched Jet Li’s first movie — The Shaolin Monastery. Later, there
were many very good Jacky Chan movies, and lots of badly made, cult-type
movies. Why watch all these movies? Partly it was my interest in the
martial arts. Partly, it was another opportunity to expose myself to the
whole pattern in its entirety, to allow the unconscious mind to learn the
important things so that they could be analysed later.
I even got to be in a movie — The Annals of Wulin. Of course, being the
Westerner, I had to be the bad guy who made the mistake of picking on
Chinese people on their own turf.
In a Chinese martial arts movie, almost without fail you have a young
man who is unhappy in life, often bullied, and is looking for a solution. He
finds a shi fu (master) and asks to be taken on as a student disciple.
Of course, the shi fu always rejects the student-to-be, often by totally
ignoring him (or her). The student-to-be must then begin the process of
proving himself worthy of the shi fus attention. He will camp on the
doorstep of the shi fu, bringing gifts, cleaning up rubbish, doing anything to
prove that he is, in fact, determined to learn from the master.
After some time the shi fu will decide to give the student-to-be a series of
what appear to be meaningless tasks. Only after the student-to-be has
worked diligently at these tasks, without complaint, will the shi fu finally
accept this person as a disciple. The word disciple is important. It implies
discipline, and the ability to persist in the face of all sorts of difficulties.
When I first arrived in China and was exposed to this idea I got
incredibly annoyed, and found myself thinking, ‘What’s wrong with you,
old man! Can’t you see this person wants to learn? Why do you make his
life so hard?’ The benefits of a liberal education, I suppose.
Then, I began to get a different perspective. On a number of occasions
young people came to me to learn something. Sometimes English.
Sometimes, tae kwon do. Without question, I would take them on and begin
to teach. Some were truly determined to learn, and put in the necessary
effort. Others were simply wishful and, at the end of the day, wasted a lot of
my time as well as their own.
Life is valuable and, ultimately, much too short. There is not enough time
to waste. As this understanding became increasingly obvious to me I found
myself behaving more and more like the old shi fu in the martial arts
movies. I would start testing people to see how serious they were before I
would even begin to spend any effort on them. Ultimately, as a teacher of
anything, you need to feel that your effort will be met with at least equal
effort on the part of the learner.
From the point of view of a learner, if a skill that you want to learn is not
one of your top three priorities, most likely you will consistently choose to
do other things instead.
For instance, if you want to learn a second language, you may well sign
up for a class twice a week. Many people do that. You will probably go to
your language class the first week, and maybe even the second. If work,
family, and exercise are more important, then ‘things’ will start cropping
up. You have a project to finish at work, so you skip one of your classes.
Your boss sends you on a trip, so you miss another week. Then, there is a
family commitment so you skip another class. Soon, you are skipping one
out of two classes every week. As you get further and further behind,
suddenly it just makes sense to drop the course totally. It seems to you that
the whole thing has gotten too hard.
You have just successfully proven to yourself that the language you
wanted to learn is too difficult, and you can add your voice to the myth
perpetrated by all those who successfully created failure before you. Or you
can do it very differently and succeed.
The first simple rule is — decide if you really want to learn the
language. Make sure that you are serious. Serious and determined. Very
committed. You will need reasons to learn the language.
Ask yourself, ‘Why do I really want to learn this language?’ Is it because
you are living in a new country, and you feel very deeply that it is a sign of
respect to your hosts? Or, do you really want to know what is going on at
work so that you no longer have to rely on translations that always miss at
least 30 per cent of the key information? Or, do you want to travel and
really understand what happens along the way? Or are you just totally
fascinated? You will know your reasons, and you must have them, because
if there’s no burning desire to learn, then you probably won’t.
Young children learn their first language because they have to. They
discover very early on that if they want to be taken seriously, and get their
needs met, they have to be able to communicate using the language that is
around them. It is not something that is just nice to do. It is a burning desire,
driven by a sense that survival depends upon it. Imagine being in an
environment where nobody understands you, and you understand nobody
and you will quickly get a sense of urgency — of desperation even — you
just have to learn this language.
Once you have set the priority, you can move on to the next step —
setting an effective goal.