In the past, being able to speak Chinese has been a prerequisite for the DukeEngage: Beijing program. However, this year, the group has a diverse spectrum of Chinese speaking ability. There are several Duke students here that grew up speaking the language and are essentially fluent. There are also students who had never spoken a word of Chinese before coming here.
Personally, I happen to fall somewhere in the middle of those two extremes.
I have a very rudimentary knowledge of how to write, read, and speak Chinese. I know basic greetings and classroom vocabulary. I can order food for myself and bargain at markets. I know how to give a basic introduction of my family and hobbies.
But sometimes, it’s not enough.
Since coming here, I’ve often found myself having to say “对不起,我不懂了”, or “Sorry, I don’t understand” to a student trying to talk with me. Considering the fact that many of the Dandelion students are still too shy to talk with the new volunteers, and that the times when they do approach us for a conversation are rare to begin with, not being able to understand them when they try feels like a wasted opportunity to bond. It feels like a failure.
And I don’t concede defeat easily; I always ask the student for clarification and try to have them say in in a different way, hoping I’ll understand the second time around. I use a lots and lots of hand gestures, and occasionally dictionaries. Once I even tried drawing a picture of what I wanted to say. Point being: communicating here is a lot of work to sometimes, and when an attempt ends fruitlessly, it’s disappointing.
Whether it’s small talk about the weather, a simple explanation in the classroom, or asking a student what the book they’re reading is about, “不懂了”brings whatever conversation I’m having to a very abrupt dead end. And it doesn’t feel good.
But failures don’t always happen; some of the most difficult conversations end successfully. The students are patient, and want to understand me just as badly as I want to understand them. Sometimes the extra measures--the drawings, dictionaries, and gestures--pay off. And when that connection is made--when both parties reach mutual understanding--it’s the best feeling. Even if the result is as basic as finding out what a student plans on doing that weekend, it’s still a victory.
My conclusion so far has been this: the daily struggle to communicate? It’s perfectly OK. Being here is supposed to be more than just using the phrases and basic vocabulary I learned in the classroom back at Duke. Those aren’t supposed to be enough; they’re supposed to be the beginning. Part of this program is supposed to force me to figure out how to get things done when communication is no longer something I take for granted.
And so far, it’s done that job perfectly.
Personally, I happen to fall somewhere in the middle of those two extremes.
I have a very rudimentary knowledge of how to write, read, and speak Chinese. I know basic greetings and classroom vocabulary. I can order food for myself and bargain at markets. I know how to give a basic introduction of my family and hobbies.
But sometimes, it’s not enough.
Since coming here, I’ve often found myself having to say “对不起,我不懂了”, or “Sorry, I don’t understand” to a student trying to talk with me. Considering the fact that many of the Dandelion students are still too shy to talk with the new volunteers, and that the times when they do approach us for a conversation are rare to begin with, not being able to understand them when they try feels like a wasted opportunity to bond. It feels like a failure.
And I don’t concede defeat easily; I always ask the student for clarification and try to have them say in in a different way, hoping I’ll understand the second time around. I use a lots and lots of hand gestures, and occasionally dictionaries. Once I even tried drawing a picture of what I wanted to say. Point being: communicating here is a lot of work to sometimes, and when an attempt ends fruitlessly, it’s disappointing.
Whether it’s small talk about the weather, a simple explanation in the classroom, or asking a student what the book they’re reading is about, “不懂了”brings whatever conversation I’m having to a very abrupt dead end. And it doesn’t feel good.
But failures don’t always happen; some of the most difficult conversations end successfully. The students are patient, and want to understand me just as badly as I want to understand them. Sometimes the extra measures--the drawings, dictionaries, and gestures--pay off. And when that connection is made--when both parties reach mutual understanding--it’s the best feeling. Even if the result is as basic as finding out what a student plans on doing that weekend, it’s still a victory.
My conclusion so far has been this: the daily struggle to communicate? It’s perfectly OK. Being here is supposed to be more than just using the phrases and basic vocabulary I learned in the classroom back at Duke. Those aren’t supposed to be enough; they’re supposed to be the beginning. Part of this program is supposed to force me to figure out how to get things done when communication is no longer something I take for granted.
And so far, it’s done that job perfectly.