Batgung - Cantonese: learn m'learn?

The Joy of Text

Mr Tall — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 01:00:00 +0000

I wanted to call this article ‘Why Daughter Tall’s English Homework takes 37 seconds, whereas her Chinese homework takes 37 minutes’, but that seemed a bit much.

Never the less, most nights it’s more or less true.

Daughter Tall is deep into her second year of kindergarten. (For those of you outside Hong Kong, this means she’s four, and she’s attending what would be her second year of pre-school in the USA, for example.) This year has seen a sharp shift from last year’s happy-go-lucky three-year-old’s lifestyle, in which she had little or no homework. Now she’s got some pretty much every night – usually a bit of English, e.g. one letter of the alphabet to practice writing; some very simple arithmetic; and of course a new Chinese character to write just about every night.

The Chinese homework was not so terrible until we hit a little milestone at about mid-school-year. Admittedly, Daughter Tall had some initial struggles last autumn holding a pencil in a way conducive to the production of actual marks on paper, but thankfully she overcame them quickly. And the initial characters she learned were simple, usually comprising just a few strokes. Daughter Tall’s roadblock? Learning to write her own name! I don’t think her name is outrageously complicated, it’s just that its characters are all an order of magnitude or two more complex than any of the introductory characters she’d been learning to write.

Her school was not too harsh – she learned to write the characters one at a time, of course, with several days’ practice for each before she had to tackle the next one. But in the first few days in which her name was her homework, Daughter Tall was taking a long, long time to get through the dozen or so repetitions of the character required. I discovered there are just so many ways in which writing a character can go wrong. You can make a stroke incorrectly, e.g. not straight enough, or in the wrong direction. You can make the strokes in the wrong order. You can start writing the character as a whole in the wrong spot within the little box you’re given (this is particularly hard for Daughter Tall; it seems to require a kind of spatial reasoning she’s either not quite ready for, or at which she’s not talented). You can write the whole character more or less correctly, only to discover that one of its parts is out of proportion to the others, or misaligned.

Eventually, Daughter Tall did master (more or less) all three characters in her name. And now there’ve been quite a few days’ homework in which she does nothing but write her complete name over and over. She’s actually pretty quick at it now – last night, under her father’s admittedly less-than-watchful eye, she cranked out eight copies of her name in about 10 or 15 minutes, which didn’t seem bad at all. (Of course she had to re-do about six characters when Mrs Tall arrived home and despaired at her husband’s lexical laxity.)

Watching Daughter Tall begin scaling the mountain of Chinese literacy has certainly been instructive. It has awakened in me an ever-greater appreciation of that Sumerian genius who decided that, what the hey, maybe we could come up with some kind of shorthand for the sounds that make up words – why go to the trouble of drawing all the hieroglyphics those Egyptians insist upon! I was not exaggerating when I implied that most nights it takes Daughter Tall a matter of a minute or two to do her English homework, since it’s just writing alphabetical characters, which are stunningly simple when compared to just an average Chinese character.

Second, it’s made me appreciate even more the phonetic approach to teaching reading. Ironically, in recent years in the USA the ‘whole language’ (aka ‘look-say’) method of teaching reading, in which beginning readers are encourage to identify whole words by repetition and context, has been on the ascendant and now dominates most schools of education and many primary school systems. For me the bottom line is: if you’ve got the advantage of alphabetical letters representing discrete sounds, you are utterly foolish if you don’t teach children to take advantage of this! Why teach alphabetical words as pictograms, which is essentially what the whole language approach advocates? I suspect spending one evening’s homework time with the Tall family might change a lot of minds on this issue!

Daughter Tall’s modest struggles have also made me wonder how long the current craze for teaching Mandarin to schoolchildren in western countries is going to last. When you see the effort it takes to learn to read and write Chinese, even for an eager young child who’s still in the prime age range for language acquisition, you wonder how many kids in Brooklyn and Birmingham are going to be willing to devote themselves in the same way. Good luck to their happy parents!

Understand Chinese names

mrb — Thu, 14 Sep 2006 01:00:00 +0000

When I first arrived in Hong Kong I'd regularly make mistakes with peoples' Chinese names. Here's the Batgung primer to help you do better ...

Chinese names

Most Chinese names consist of three Chinese characters, eg you've probably heard of the famous businessman Li Ka Shing (李嘉誠). The main difference from Western names is that the surname (family name) comes first, then the two-character given-name. So the right way to address him is as 'Mr Li', or 'Ka Shing' if you are already a good friend of his.

Common mistakes would be to address him as:

'Dear Mr Shing,', thinking that surname comes last, or
'Dear Li,', thinking that given-name comes first, or
'Dear Ka,', knowing that given-name follows surname, but thinking of 'Shing' as a Western 'middle-name' that is not used in a greeting. The two given-name characters should be used together.

Don't expect everyone you meet to use a three-character Chinese name though, as you'll find plenty of exceptions. In Hong Kong, many people take an English given-name at an early age. Some only use it when dealing with foreigners, while others use it to the extent that their Chinese given-name is only known by their family. If they use an English given-name they will follow the 'surname last' convention, eg Li Ka Shing's sons are usually referred to by their English names, Victor Li and Richard Li.

The use of English given-names among Chinese people in Asia is strongest in Hong Kong. In Singapore for example, almost all Chinese people just use their Chinese given-name.

Another approach is to use the initials of the given-name, followed by the surname, eg 'K S Li'. This seems most common among middle-aged men - I guess they made the choice before taking an English name became fashionable. If you'll be working with them regularly, you'll call them by their initials, eg 'K S'.

In South-East Asia, you'll find many Chinese men are called by their surname, using it like a given name. So if you call them 'Mr Li', you'll be told to 'just call me Li'.

Finally, even when people are using their Chinese names, there are variations on the three-character rule. First there are some two-character Chinese surnames, such as 'Au Yeung' and 'Sze To'. Then in Mainland China it's not unusual for people to have a single-character given-name.

If it seems a complicated business working out what to call people, it's not really that bad. If you are introduced to someone by their Chinese name, the simplest way to respond is simply to repeat Mr / Miss and their surname, 'Hello Mr Li', and wait to be corrected from there. eg 'Just call me Victor'. If there's no correction, just carry on using Mr Li. It never hurts to be a little more formal in first meetings than you would be in say the UK or the US.

Chinese titles

The examples given above assume you are dealing with a Chinese person in an English-language business setting. If you are living in Hong Kong it's also worth knowing some of the basic Chinese forms of titles, to make your life a little easier.

Where the Western norm is to use people's given names even on a first meeting, a Chinese person is more likely to use the surname plus a title. The confucian ideas of the importance of rank in the family & society probably have a part to play in this, but there's also the practical need to identify people clearly. It's commonly quoted that there are only 100 Chinese surnames. There are more than that, but the number of surnames you'll meet is still a very small number. eg the list of the 200 most common surnames covered 96% of the 174,500 people listed in a 1990 survey. So if you're having a gossip and refer to a 'Mr Wong', there's a good chance the listener will have several Mr Wong's in mind. A title helps pinpoint exactly which Mr Wong you mean...

The more formal titles follow surnames. If we assume a person's surname is 'Wong', you might hear them described as:

Chinese	English	Notes
Wong Sin Saang	Mr Wong	The shortened form 'Wong Saang' is also common.
Wong Siu Je	Miss Wong	Meant to refer to an unmarried lady, but it also implies youth. For this reason on a first meeting most people use 'siu je' to address a lady, even if they think she is married. Better to be on the safe side with a bit of flattery.
Wong Gwoo Leung	Miss Wong	More formal - used to address older ladies. 'Older' is around 50+, but if you are in any doubt, it is safer to start with 'Siu Je' and let yourself be corrected!
Wong Taai Taai	Mrs Wong	Often shortened to 'Wong Taai'. In the previous two examples, the surname is the lady's mainden name. In this case the husband's surname is used. That can lead to some confusion where you'll hear a lady apparently addressed by two different names, eg 'Wong Siu Je' at work and 'Li Taai' by her friends, ie Miss Wong but Mrs Li. It's common for women to continue to use their unmarried 'Siu je' title in business after marrying, to avoid confusion by changing names.
Wong Ging Lay	Manager Wong	If you are meeting managers in mainland China, it's common to have them introduced in English as 'Manager' then their surname, instead of using 'Mr' / 'Miss'.
Wong Si Fu	Expert Wong	Si Fu means expert, but it is commonly used to mean 'Engineer'. So if your office light/water/electricity has problems, someone will call for a 'Si Fu' to fix it.

There are some common adaptations of given-names too:

Ah-Shing		You'll hear a lot of people called Ah-something. It's a shortened, familiar form of their given name, made by combining 'Ah' and the second character of their given-name.
Shing-Je	Elder sister Shing
Shing-Goh	Elder brother Shing	These two are respectful ways of referring to people, and are formed by adding -Je or -Goh to the second character of their given name. Older staff in the office are often referred to this way, especially older support staff such as cleaners and messengers.

Chinese names and your computer

If you'll need to use English-language software (eg a contact manager package), to record Chinese names, there are several conventions you can follow. I've used different approaches over the years, including typing the whole name 'Li Ka Shing' in the 'last-name' field, or putting 'Li' in the 'first name' and 'Ka Shing' in 'last name'. It means on the screen the names look to be in the right order, but then you get letters generated from overseas colleagues that are addressed to 'Dear blank', or 'Dear Mr Ka Shing'.

The approach I've ended up using is to hyphenate the given-name and type that as the 'first-name', ie 'Ka-Shing', and put the surname 'Li' in the 'last-name' field.

Also a quick reminder that if you are ever creating forms to be used in Asia that collect people's names, asking for 'first name' and 'last name' will cause lots of confusion. It is much clearer to ask for their 'given name', and 'family name'

Other info

Here are a couple of pages I used for background information about Chinese surnames:

If you have any mistakes to share that you've made, or mistakes people make with your Chinese name that annoy you, please let us know.

MrB

Power language

Mr Tall — Tue, 25 Oct 2005 05:51:45 +0000

Some time ago, I came across the following quotation in a Washington Post review of a book about lost languages:

People will always educate their children in what they perceive as the power language. Success . . . means belonging to the elite; to belong to the elite you must speak the official and international language. As soon as they can, that is what even the most down-trodden of minority language speakers will aim at, for their children even more than for themselves.

This got me thinking about the linguistic situation in Hong Kong. Given that the language of power in Hong Kong was English for so many years, why is the English standard here so uneven at best, and why has it seemed to slip in recent years?

Was the sense of disconnect between colonial overlords and local population greater in the run-up to the handover than it was, say, 40 or 50 years ago? That's pretty unlikely.

Or was the impending handover enough to convince many people that English was passé, and that Mandarin was the wave of the future? Has the teaching of English in Hong Kong been cast aside in favor of teaching kids Mandarin? Well, there's certainly no disputing that in the 80s and early-to-mid 90s English in Hong Kong really was de-emphasized, instigated by the Government forcing many local secondary schools to switch to 'mother tongue instruction', usually over the vociferous protests of students and parents.

But have Hong Kong people really been following the Government's lead? Let's dig a little deeper into the overall assumptions being made, and then take a look at the current situation.

In fact, I've heard the basic argument-for-Mandarin-in-Hong-Kong made in many contexts, not just in terms of Government dictates. For example, you'll hear people say 'if you're moving to Hong Kong, forget about learning Cantonese -- really soon now it's gonna be all Mandarin'. Or: don't bother making sure your kids learn to speak fluent Cantonese; they should learn Mandarin as quickly as possible, since that's now the 'language of power' in Hong Kong. Or: the schools here in Hong Kong should treat Mandarin as the key second language all students must learn, and just offer English as an elective.

This suite of arguments, ironically, seems to be especially popular amongst expats in Hong Kong. Perhaps some of them buy into the 'China is the future economic colossus of the world' hype. Or maybe some like the sound of learning Mandarin because it's reputed to be both easier to learn than Cantonese, and also much more pleasant to the Western ear (can't confirm the first one; no doubt about it on the second). And I think at least a few expats (often those in the education field, again ironically) dismiss the importance of learning English in order to prove their 'multicultural' bona fides, i.e. to show that they wouldn't dream of 'imposing' their language on anybody else, because that's just not respectful of diversity, you know.

In any case, if the 'Mandarin Ascendant' argument holds true, then you'd expect to see a boom in Hong Kong people of all ages trying to learn Mandarin. You'd also think the pressure on kids to learn it in school would be especially intense.

And yet, witness: a couple of weekends ago, Mrs Tall and I took Daughter Tall to Metro City in Tseung Kwan O, in search of a beginning Mandarin class for her. She's now three years old, mostly fluent in Cantonese and English, and absolutely dotty for learning Mandarin. She's got a number of Mandarin VCDs and music CDs, and she just can't get enough of them. She's learned a bunch of Mandarin songs at her kindergarten, and sings them over and over. We figured, what the heck? Let's ride this wave while she sees it all as a funny, effortless game.

So around and around the lower reaches of Metro City we went. We must have checked out 15 or more tutorial centers offering classes and cramming and lessons for kids at all educational levels. Just about every single one of them had extensive lists of English classes, for ages starting from more or less birth on up. But can you guess how many we found offering Mandarin for kindergarten-aged kids?

One.

We also searched a couple of other local malls and found no classes at all for Daughter Tall. In fairness, there were a couple of places offering Mandarin tuition for older kids, but none offered anything whatsoever for children at the age at which language learning is easiest and has the most long-term benefit.

In the end, we took Daughter Tall back to Metro City's lonely beacon of Mandarin Enlightenment for a free sample lesson. And can you guess how many children thronged that classroom? One. Just -- Daughter Tall. The single fee-paying youngster registered for the class was having a week off.

[Update: Guess who this mystery student turned out to be? The little boy Daughter Tall sits next to on her kindergarten bus every day! A bit freaky, this coincidence . . . ]

Anyway, Daughter Tall had a one-on-one tutorial. She loved it, incidentally, and we've registered her for the class. We also felt so bad about making the teacher do the whole thing just for us that we insisted on paying for the lesson. This also was eye-opening -- the fee was a grand total of HKD85 for an hour's tuition. This is much less than the going rate for English tuition.

So tell me: are Hong Kong people really converting to the Mandarin Way? I see little evidence that this is the case.

In fact, it seems to me the evidence shows a resurgence in English learning. Every local Hong Kong Chinese family with small children we know is pushing English usage relentlessly, sometimes to the extent that mom and dad -- i.e. native Cantonese speakers -- actually use English in their day-to-day communication at home in order to pound it into their youngsters as an almost-native language. And the evidence of the tutorial centres only supports this trend: Hong Kong people with children, at least, seem to be trying harder than ever to improve their kids' fluency in English. Mandarin seems to be a 'nice to have' bonus at best.

So even though Hong Kong's business connections with the mainland have exploded over the past 20 years, and our political futures are now one, I really wonder if the 'power language' transition has taken place, or for that matter is going to take place anytime soon. My guess is no.

Readers, any evidence to the contrary?

Schools in Hong Kong, part I

Mr Tall — Thu, 31 Jul 2003 05:31:11 +0000

Soon the Talls -- and a little later, the Baldings -- must make a fundamental child-raising choice. Do we send our little darlings to local schools, or to expatriate-dominated international schools?

This is a no-brainer for expats who arrive in Hong Kong with children who are already school-aged: since such children don't speak or read Chinese, it's international school (or English Schools Foundation schools, which I'm lumping together with international schools for pure convenience) or nothing, and in Hong Kong 'nothing' is illegal.

But for interracial couples (i.e. expat + Chinese) whose 'mixed' children are born in Hong Kong, making the school choice is not so easy.

Let's look at the local option first. The first advantage of sending your kids to local schools is fundamental: they'll grow up truly bilingual, and possibly trilingual, i.e. with Mandarin as well. Learning English isn't usually a problem, since the great majority of mixed couples in HK speak English in their day-to-day lives. Spoken Cantonese is often taken care of as well, as kids will pick up the current vernacular from Chinese relatives, playmates, etc.

It's reading/writing Chinese that's the sticking point. Children who attend international schools simply can't be immersed in Chinese, since they're surrounded by expat students who know little or none. In other words, unless you've got an exceptional child who can learn to read and write Chinese mostly outside of school, you've got to send her to local schools if you want her to acquire these valuable skills. Chinese characters are simply too numerous, and require too much sheer, brutal memorization impressed on plastic young minds, to just 'pick up' later. Some people of course do try to learn to read and write Chinese as university students or as adults, but their road is long and frustrating, and only a dedicated few achieve true competence.

Also, local schools are essentially free. This is not insignificant, in that many of the international schools charge anywhere from HKD5,000/month to double that or more by the time the kids reach secondary level. That adds up, dear friends, especially if you are prolific with your issue.

Okay then! To local schools they go! Would anyone reject these potential advantages, especially since Hong Kong is famous for producing students who are extremely well-prepared for university study, especially in math and the hard sciences?

The truth is, almost all families in our situation do just that -- they reject the local schools, and send their kids to study with expat children.

Mr Tall has heard numerous stories, for example, of mixed or expat families who placed their kindergarteners in a local school, and jerked them back out within months or even weeks. The usual reasons? The teachers were mean and hyper-critical. The curriculum was far too demanding. Their five-year-olds had two hours of homework a day. The local children made fun of the 'different' kids.

It's easy to laugh these complaints off, and assume that people who take this route should be a little more patient and tolerant of cultural differences. This is far easier said than done, however, when you're trying to convince someone who's barely potty-trained to suck it up and tough it out in a school she sees as Hamburger Hill.

The thing is, though, without some fairly bloodyminded discipline, the kid's not going to learn something that's going to be very good for her down the road. We now must confront one of the deepest complexities of cross-cultural living: which culture do you really want your child to learn, and to live as a part of? We're in put-money-where-mouth-is territory.

In western countries these days, children are assumed to be 'active learners'. They're creative, curious, and just brimming with enthusiasm for picking up new knowledge on their own, and from each other. The best educational methods, then, are those that keep teachers from getting in a student's way. Teachers should be facilitators, not lecturers or disciplinarians. They should help students 'learn to learn', so the actual content of the curriculum is worth consideration, but isn't crucial. Above all, what is important is students' self-esteem. Students who lack confidence in their abilities will be discouraged from learning. Their bright little fires will be dampened. Whatever efforts students make should be praised, affirmed, and validated, since the carrot works better than the stick. This view is essentially therapeutic, and it is based on an optimistic view of human nature.

Contrast this with the Chinese view. Students are assumed to be naturally slothful and in need of frequent correction. Creativity is valued, but should never be indulged to the detriment of mastering a solid body of basic content. Memorization and rote learning are practiced from the very early stages of formal education -- especially, of course, in learning Chinese characters. Other teaching methods are predominantly traditional as well, with plenty of lecturing. Teachers are authoritative, and notions of setting students loose to 'learn on their own', or from each other, may get lip service, but are rarely put into serious practice. It's assumed even the best students will need knowledge hammered into them at times. This view is essentially conservative/traditional, and takes a fairly low view of human nature.

Mr Tall, if you Discerning Readers hadn't gathered this already, is of a fairly conservative nature himself. He is therefore attracted to the Chinese view in the abstract. But when he thinks of Toddler Tall trotting home from preschool in the near future with a mountain of tedious homework, and crying because her teacher told her she was a lazy girl, it's much, much harder.

At least Mrs Tall and I have a couple of years to think about this. Any advice is appreciated!

What's a gwailouh?

Mr Tall — Fri, 15 Feb 2002 05:40:40 +0000

There comes a time in many a Hong Kong expatriate cultural commentator's life when he must face the word: gwai louh.

As anyone who's been simultaneously conscious and physically present in Hong Kong for more than three days knows, 'gwai louh' is the Cantonese slang term for a white-skinned foreigner. It's not a very nice term. I've seen it translated as 'foreign devil' most often, but this is only a rough attempt at nailing down its sense. For one thing, there's no direct reference to 'foreign' in the term 'gwai louh': 'gwai' means ghost or other unwholesome inhabitant of the netherworld; 'louh' simply means 'old guy'.

The first time I was called a gwai louh in Hong Kong I likely didn't even know it: it's just another two syllables you hear in the rushing stream of Cantonese in which you're immersed. It didn't take long, though, to recognize the term, since I was (and still am, of course) referred to as a 'gwai louh' in all sorts of settings.

So is 'gwai louh' a deeply offensive ethnic slur, or is it just a cute bit of linguistic shorthand? There are differing schools of thought.

On the one hand you've got the 'we don't mean anything by it; it's just the common term we use' school. This camp represents many local Chinese people I've spoken to. On the whole, I believe them, i.e. I'm sure they don't mean it as an insult. There's no denying, however, that when a GL gets into a disagreement with a local person over petty but temper-igniting issues such as bus queue etiquette or taxi-thieving, the term is often used with a great deal of meaning indeed.

Among us GLs ourselves, there's again a difference of opinion. Some GLs take the whole thing with the proverbial grain of salt, and even refer to themselves using the term ironically. Most of the time, perhaps more so in the past, I've fallen into this category. There are others, of course, who see no reason they should be referred to by an undeniably derogatory term, no matter how affectionately it is intended.

I've hinted that I'm not as easygoing as I once was about being called 'gwai louh'. I'm not quite sure why that is. I'm certainly no advocate of sweeping political correctness. Yet I have to admit there's an accumulated irritation with the term that's built up over my years here. Part of it is the unthinking assumption that the Cantonese linguistic barrier is impermeable to non-Chinese, e.g. when a shop assistant asks her colleague to 'help the gwai louh' because she doesn't want to deal with me. And some of it may be due to the increasing lack of charm I find at being singled out of crowds by children screeching 'Wah! Look at that huge tall gwai louh' (Mr Tall really is pretty tall).

You'd think gwai louh would be the kind of term that would fall out of common use as the education level continues to rise, and as more and more Hong Kong people gain international experience. There's no way of telling, of course, but I don't think there's been any such decline. Human nature being what it is, habits such as the use of GL are likely to remain firmly in place until there's some social sanction involved to uproot them.

Until that time comes, a gwai louh I shall be!

Gonna learn the Wah?

mrb — Tue, 01 Jan 2002 05:27:01 +0000

Gonna learn the Wah? If you're newly arrived in HK, you may be wondering whether or not to learn Chinese. Unless you have a large amount of free time on your hands, you probably won't be able to learn to read and write, but you can certainly pick up the spoken language.

However, it can be frustrating, especially if you already have the experience of learning a second European language. English is my first language, and I enjoyed learning French at school. There are many similarities that you can spot between the languages, and it doesn't take long before you can read simple French, e.g. you can read children's books and later have a go at reading magazines.

Chinese words and grammar are completely different from Latin languages, so you'll have to start from scratch as though you were a newborn baby. You've probably already heard that Chinese is also different in that it is a tonal language, so the same word pronounced using different tones gives it different meanings. As can be expected, it is easy for a learner to make mistakes with the tones, giving their sentences the wrong meaning. A lot of Chinese jokes are based on intentionally mixing up the tones in this way, but for foreigners it is usually unintentional, and occasionally very embarrassing ! (Mr Tall has a story to tell about that).

But, stick at it, and you'll be well rewarded, especially if you plan to stay in HK for longer than a basic 18- or 24-month contract. If you only speak English you'll move through HK isolated in your own bubble. If you're able to speak a little Chinese, you'll find that local people appreciate it, and you'll find HK a much more friendly place.

One exception -- your appearance makes a big difference. If you split expats into those who look Chinese, and those who don't, the A/B/CBCs generally have a harder time of it. When your spoken Chinese is 95% correct, there are still plenty of people ready to find fault with the few mistakes you'll make. We gweilos get an easier time of it, and if we get 5% right, we're generally rewarded with "Wah, you speak Chinese!".

On the flip side, if you look Chinese, people will speak Chinese to you whether you want them to or not, and you'll generally learn faster. To some people, a gweilo face means English must be spoken. This can lead to odd competitions (especially in Taxis!), with the gweilo determinedly speaking Chinese, while the Chinese person is out to prove the fluency of their English. For gweilos, it also means the office is often not the best place to practice your Chinese, as colleagues are more likely to want to speak English.

Overall, I recommend you take the plunge and try learning it. Be prepared that at times it will be frustrating, and that you may well take 9-12 months before you can have a stumbling conversation, but keep at it and you'll get there in the end. I started learning at the YMCA, so you might want to take a look at their classes. As well as learning the language, you'll also meet a bunch of other people that have recently arrived, so it's a great way to make new friends.

You can try the YMCA's website, or you can visit them in Tsim Sha Tsui.