I emailed my beloved 7th grade reading teacher, Mrs. Muhl, several weeks ago to ask for her vocabulary lists. One of my fluent tutorees, Jame, is so good at English that I figured I'd go ahead and teach him the things American kids his age are learning in school.
For the last two weeks, I've been giving him words like "hirsute" and "ostracize" to study and write sentences with.
I was checking his sentences tonight and there, between "My room is often disheveled." and "Most of the things that my friends say are ludicrous." was just another small reminder that I'm not at home:
"Monks ruminate on small pillows."
It made me smile.
This kid cracks me up sometimes. I was giving him the next 10 words to study, when I said, "Germinate. G-E-R..." He interrupted me. "Germinate? Like turn someone into a German?"
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
soy una gringa
Spanish is turning out to be ever-so-helpful here in Bangkok. Sometimes I use it to help out a stranger. Other times I use it to avoid one.
I was standing alone at a bus stop on Sukhumvit after lunch today. Mariela and Alyssa had taken the BTS to read at Starbucks. I wanted to try out bus 2 since Navin (the tailor) told me it ran near my road.
Naturally, a woman who’s standing by herself wants to be approached by a strange man, right? After I had been standing there for two or three minutes, this guy walked up to me and asked, “Do you speak English?”
He didn’t look Thai, and I couldn’t place his accent. Ever-suspicious, I said the first thing that popped into my head.
“No, no entiendo ingles,” I replied, looking distinctly non-latina and definitely non-European.
“Ohhh. Spanish?”
“Si, si,” I said, naively thinking he’d lose interest.
But he didn’t lose interest. He said he had a friend back in New York who knew a little Spanish and he, in turn, knew un poquito.
"Does 'Si' mean 'Yes'?" he wanted to know.
Much to my amusement, he spent the next half-hour combining English, gestures, and the two or three Spanish words he knew to try to get me to understand him.
I honestly don’t know how I kept a straight face. Especially when he told me his name (“My nambre es Jason.”) and handed me a small slip of paper with his number on it.
He wanted my “nambre” and phone number. I told him, “Me llamo… Lauren.”
When I speak Spanish, I don’t sound like a total gringa. If I'd been quicker, I probably could have gotten away with being from Spain. But I gave my real name, sounding totally, 100% estadounidense.
Anyway, he must be really thick, because he didn't question it and continued trying to Spanishify his English to help me understand him.
I told him I had a novio. He didn’t understand that, so I mimed someone taller than me, and pretended to hug my invisible novio. He asked if I was married. I shook my head "No," but realized I shouldn't acknowledge that I understand English. (Incidentally, it's really rather difficult to pretend not to understand someone when you actually do.)
Unfortunately, he was waiting for the same bus I was.
When we got on the bus, he asked if I drove in Spain, pantomiming using a steering wheel. I played confused, acted as though I suddenly understood, and told him no, I didn’t drive there, because there was a metro in Madrid ("El metro, como el beh-teh-ese," I said, while pointing up to the BTS station) and people like to walk. I told him Madrid was very beautiful. Of course, the only word of it he probably understood was, “No.”
He had to get off at the same stop as me, but so did a lot of people. I let the crowd separate us, put on my sunglasses, and made a quick escape, succumbing to a fit of giggles as soon as I knew I was out of sight.
I was standing alone at a bus stop on Sukhumvit after lunch today. Mariela and Alyssa had taken the BTS to read at Starbucks. I wanted to try out bus 2 since Navin (the tailor) told me it ran near my road.
Naturally, a woman who’s standing by herself wants to be approached by a strange man, right? After I had been standing there for two or three minutes, this guy walked up to me and asked, “Do you speak English?”
He didn’t look Thai, and I couldn’t place his accent. Ever-suspicious, I said the first thing that popped into my head.
“No, no entiendo ingles,” I replied, looking distinctly non-latina and definitely non-European.
“Ohhh. Spanish?”
“Si, si,” I said, naively thinking he’d lose interest.
But he didn’t lose interest. He said he had a friend back in New York who knew a little Spanish and he, in turn, knew un poquito.
"Does 'Si' mean 'Yes'?" he wanted to know.
Much to my amusement, he spent the next half-hour combining English, gestures, and the two or three Spanish words he knew to try to get me to understand him.
I honestly don’t know how I kept a straight face. Especially when he told me his name (“My nambre es Jason.”) and handed me a small slip of paper with his number on it.
He wanted my “nambre” and phone number. I told him, “Me llamo… Lauren.”
When I speak Spanish, I don’t sound like a total gringa. If I'd been quicker, I probably could have gotten away with being from Spain. But I gave my real name, sounding totally, 100% estadounidense.
Anyway, he must be really thick, because he didn't question it and continued trying to Spanishify his English to help me understand him.
I told him I had a novio. He didn’t understand that, so I mimed someone taller than me, and pretended to hug my invisible novio. He asked if I was married. I shook my head "No," but realized I shouldn't acknowledge that I understand English. (Incidentally, it's really rather difficult to pretend not to understand someone when you actually do.)
Unfortunately, he was waiting for the same bus I was.
When we got on the bus, he asked if I drove in Spain, pantomiming using a steering wheel. I played confused, acted as though I suddenly understood, and told him no, I didn’t drive there, because there was a metro in Madrid ("El metro, como el beh-teh-ese," I said, while pointing up to the BTS station) and people like to walk. I told him Madrid was very beautiful. Of course, the only word of it he probably understood was, “No.”
He had to get off at the same stop as me, but so did a lot of people. I let the crowd separate us, put on my sunglasses, and made a quick escape, succumbing to a fit of giggles as soon as I knew I was out of sight.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
que dios te bendiga!
Sometimes you want a fruit smoothie and a quiet walk home. Sometimes you get a fruit smoothie and a frantic Peruvian man instead.
I was minding my own business at a corner smoothie shop, sipping on some pineapple-banana deliciousness, when a man walked up.
"Do you speak English?"
"Yes."
"Hablas español?"
"...Si..."
And then a rush of rapid-fire Spanish that I didn't understand.
"Señor, mi español no es tan bueno. Necesita hablar más despacio."
So he slowed down. Kind of. He needed to make a phone call to Kuala Lumpur and was having trouble with the international calling card he'd bought. I told him I had never used a card like that before. There were no instructions on it, which didn't matter, because he didn't know any English.
I spent the next hour figuring out how exactly I could help him make this oh-so-essential phone call. Turns out, he had the country codes written down incorrectly.
After a few failed attempts at finding this information (including calling a Thai phone number he had on a scrap of paper and subsequently leaving some Thai lady thoroughly confused on the other end), we wound up in the lobby of a nearby hotel.
There, I told the concierge about our problem (because by this point, it was my problem, too), she made a couple of phone calls, and 10 minutes later we had country codes for Peru and Malaysia.
We walked outside where I tried no fewer than 12 different combinations of adding or taking away plus signs and zeros from the phone number.
When I finally got through to Kuala Lumpur, I handed him the phone. He talked for three or four minutes without taking a breath, hung up, and thanked me effusively, asking if he owed me anything.
"No, no, it's perfectly all right..."
"Gracias, gracias," etc.
"De nada. Que Dios te bendiga!"
He strode away and I walked home, thinking about how surprising life can be and thanking God that my parents convinced me to take Spanish in high school instead of Latin.
I was minding my own business at a corner smoothie shop, sipping on some pineapple-banana deliciousness, when a man walked up.
"Do you speak English?"
"Yes."
"Hablas español?"
"...Si..."
And then a rush of rapid-fire Spanish that I didn't understand.
"Señor, mi español no es tan bueno. Necesita hablar más despacio."
So he slowed down. Kind of. He needed to make a phone call to Kuala Lumpur and was having trouble with the international calling card he'd bought. I told him I had never used a card like that before. There were no instructions on it, which didn't matter, because he didn't know any English.
I spent the next hour figuring out how exactly I could help him make this oh-so-essential phone call. Turns out, he had the country codes written down incorrectly.
After a few failed attempts at finding this information (including calling a Thai phone number he had on a scrap of paper and subsequently leaving some Thai lady thoroughly confused on the other end), we wound up in the lobby of a nearby hotel.
There, I told the concierge about our problem (because by this point, it was my problem, too), she made a couple of phone calls, and 10 minutes later we had country codes for Peru and Malaysia.
We walked outside where I tried no fewer than 12 different combinations of adding or taking away plus signs and zeros from the phone number.
When I finally got through to Kuala Lumpur, I handed him the phone. He talked for three or four minutes without taking a breath, hung up, and thanked me effusively, asking if he owed me anything.
"No, no, it's perfectly all right..."
"Gracias, gracias," etc.
"De nada. Que Dios te bendiga!"
He strode away and I walked home, thinking about how surprising life can be and thanking God that my parents convinced me to take Spanish in high school instead of Latin.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Questo il beccio di Tosca!
Some of the girls went out tonight for a dose of high culture at the opera. I'd never been to an opera before. I tried to put preconceived notions out of my mind, but part of me kept hoping a fat lady in a viking hat would show up.
We saw Puccini's Tosca. It was tragic, but good. I wish I were so vocally gifted.
There were English and Thai subtitles projected onto screens on either side of the stage, but I enjoyed trying to figure out as many words as possible based on my Spanish.
It wasn't until I got to Thailand that I realized how much I like foreign languages. I feel like a spy trying to crack the code. Every street sign or poster I pass is a secret message, waiting to be deciphered.
As of right now, I can read about seven Thai consonants and two vowels... out of 44 and 28, respectively. Baby steps, people, baby steps. Did I mention that Thai is hard?
I know some quasi-useful words and phrases, though.
Hello, goodbye, yes, no, thank you, left, right, the color blue, the color purple, beautiful, ginger chicken with rice, chicken, pork, the numbers through 100, "Look at this/that.", "How much is it?"
Hm. I guess that's about it. Now that I can see my Thai vocabulary enumerated, I'm pretty unimpressed with myself.
We saw Puccini's Tosca. It was tragic, but good. I wish I were so vocally gifted.
There were English and Thai subtitles projected onto screens on either side of the stage, but I enjoyed trying to figure out as many words as possible based on my Spanish.
It wasn't until I got to Thailand that I realized how much I like foreign languages. I feel like a spy trying to crack the code. Every street sign or poster I pass is a secret message, waiting to be deciphered.
As of right now, I can read about seven Thai consonants and two vowels... out of 44 and 28, respectively. Baby steps, people, baby steps. Did I mention that Thai is hard?
I know some quasi-useful words and phrases, though.
Hello, goodbye, yes, no, thank you, left, right, the color blue, the color purple, beautiful, ginger chicken with rice, chicken, pork, the numbers through 100, "Look at this/that.", "How much is it?"
Hm. I guess that's about it. Now that I can see my Thai vocabulary enumerated, I'm pretty unimpressed with myself.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
We're English teachers.
I'm sitting in the back of a cab, thinking about English past tenses...
"What's another verb that ends in -ish? Wish... fish..."
"Dish."
"Wish, wished. Fish, fished. Dish, dished."
"Squish!"
"Squish, squished."
"I say squashed - 'I squashed a bug.'"
"But you can say squished, too."
"Yeah, but they're not interchangeable. Squashed is like..."
*smacking one palm down onto the other*
"...and squished is like..."
*slowly curling fingers into a ball as if squeezing playdough through them*
"So, I guess squished is more like a substance oozing out, and squashed is used for things you flatten."
"Yeah. So... the person in the middle of the back seat is squashed, but mud is squished."
"You can't squish just anything."
"Squash, squish, squish, squash."
"Can you squish a squash?"
"..."
"What's another verb that ends in -ish? Wish... fish..."
"Dish."
"Wish, wished. Fish, fished. Dish, dished."
"Squish!"
"Squish, squished."
"I say squashed - 'I squashed a bug.'"
"But you can say squished, too."
"Yeah, but they're not interchangeable. Squashed is like..."
*smacking one palm down onto the other*
"...and squished is like..."
*slowly curling fingers into a ball as if squeezing playdough through them*
"So, I guess squished is more like a substance oozing out, and squashed is used for things you flatten."
"Yeah. So... the person in the middle of the back seat is squashed, but mud is squished."
"You can't squish just anything."
"Squash, squish, squish, squash."
"Can you squish a squash?"
"..."
Friday, August 14, 2009
parent meeting
Yesterday we had a parent-teacher meeting for P.4 through P.6. I didn't have to say a word, thank goodness. Nummon did all the talking. My job was to stand next to her and nod along as if I understood Thai.
Afterward, a parent came up and introduced himself as Kawin's dad. He expressed concerns that Kawin was having trouble with pronunciation and phonics, as well as forming sentences.
I wanted to say, "Oh, so he's having trouble with the English language, then?"
But, alas, such snarky remarks are unprofessional. I asked him if Kawin ever comes to Reading Rainbow in the mornings. He said no, and I suggested that perhaps coming early and reading aloud to the English teachers would help.
I should have also recommended that he practice English with his son. I think many parents here with good English don't speak it at home because they worry it will affect the kids' Thai skills. But I thought of it after he had walked away.
Afterward, a parent came up and introduced himself as Kawin's dad. He expressed concerns that Kawin was having trouble with pronunciation and phonics, as well as forming sentences.
I wanted to say, "Oh, so he's having trouble with the English language, then?"
But, alas, such snarky remarks are unprofessional. I asked him if Kawin ever comes to Reading Rainbow in the mornings. He said no, and I suggested that perhaps coming early and reading aloud to the English teachers would help.
I should have also recommended that he practice English with his son. I think many parents here with good English don't speak it at home because they worry it will affect the kids' Thai skills. But I thought of it after he had walked away.
Monday, August 3, 2009
dining with Thais
I had a taste of legitimate Thai culture tonight.
I tutored after school until 5:00. My Thai counterpart, Nummon, was still in the office.
When the student left, she asked what I usually do for dinner. She told me about a delicious place near the school and asked if I wanted to go with her.
We got in her car and headed for the gate of the grounds. We passed Ekapol and Kate, who teach computers and art. Nummon told them to hop in.
On the way, Nummon quizzed me over what I liked and didn't like to eat. We got to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant and sat down. She took a slip of paper and a pencil from a box at the end of the table and started scribbling our order. She handed it to the lady who owned the place and that was that.
They talked in Thai most of the time, with Nummon pausing to explain in English or ask me a question. A man and a woman walked in. Kate had been gossiping about him the moment before, and Nummon taught me a Thai term that translates to "die hard."
From what I understood (which wasn't much), dying hard is a term you use when you're talking about someone and they walk in just as you're saying their name. She explained that when you're talking about them, it's kind of in the abstract, like they're frozen in time and space -- or like a dead person, she said. (Yeah, it doesn't make much sense to me, either. Especially as I try to articulate it here.) So when the person walks in, they go from being dead to alive.
"And it means they will live a very long life."
"So... living a long life is a bad thing?"
The Thai teachers looked at each other.
"Well, it could be a good thing..."
long pause
"...that's a very good question."
I didn't understand at all, really, so I suppose it's inaccurate to say I learned a new Thai concept.
I did witness a cultural thing I'd read about. Nummon went and paid for the meal. I asked her how much I owed. Ekapol and Kate didn't seem at all concerned about the bill. Nummon said it was no problem, that she was covering it.
"Really, are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes, anytime."
We all stood up, and Ekapol said to me, matter-of-factly, "It's OK - She's the elder here."
The oldest or wealthiest person always pays the bill when people go out. According to one website, you also foot the bill if you go out with a group for your birthday.
I tutored after school until 5:00. My Thai counterpart, Nummon, was still in the office.
When the student left, she asked what I usually do for dinner. She told me about a delicious place near the school and asked if I wanted to go with her.
We got in her car and headed for the gate of the grounds. We passed Ekapol and Kate, who teach computers and art. Nummon told them to hop in.
On the way, Nummon quizzed me over what I liked and didn't like to eat. We got to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant and sat down. She took a slip of paper and a pencil from a box at the end of the table and started scribbling our order. She handed it to the lady who owned the place and that was that.
They talked in Thai most of the time, with Nummon pausing to explain in English or ask me a question. A man and a woman walked in. Kate had been gossiping about him the moment before, and Nummon taught me a Thai term that translates to "die hard."
From what I understood (which wasn't much), dying hard is a term you use when you're talking about someone and they walk in just as you're saying their name. She explained that when you're talking about them, it's kind of in the abstract, like they're frozen in time and space -- or like a dead person, she said. (Yeah, it doesn't make much sense to me, either. Especially as I try to articulate it here.) So when the person walks in, they go from being dead to alive.
"And it means they will live a very long life."
"So... living a long life is a bad thing?"
The Thai teachers looked at each other.
"Well, it could be a good thing..."
long pause
"...that's a very good question."
I didn't understand at all, really, so I suppose it's inaccurate to say I learned a new Thai concept.
I did witness a cultural thing I'd read about. Nummon went and paid for the meal. I asked her how much I owed. Ekapol and Kate didn't seem at all concerned about the bill. Nummon said it was no problem, that she was covering it.
"Really, are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes, anytime."
We all stood up, and Ekapol said to me, matter-of-factly, "It's OK - She's the elder here."
The oldest or wealthiest person always pays the bill when people go out. According to one website, you also foot the bill if you go out with a group for your birthday.
Friday, July 17, 2009
harry potter
Harry Potter = awesome.
Harry Potter in Thai when you paid for an English ticket = not so awesome.
We had been psyching ourselves up all day for Harry Potter. One of the Thai teachers named Ekapol was going with a group of eight of us, and he had called to reserve tickets.
We got to the box office, paid, and hung out in the mall until the movie started. At 7:00, we went inside to find our seats. The ridiculous Thai commercials started. I love them.
We stood up for the slide show of photos from the king's life and the stirring instrumental theme that goes along with it. Thais love their king, and this slide show makes farangs love and respect him, too.
The Harry Potter music started, and the title screen came up. Funnily enough, it was spelled in Thai. We didn't think anything of it.
When the first spoken lines came up, our hearts sank. It was all dubbed in Thai, no English, no subtitles. We looked at each other, got up, and walked out. Ekapol, poor Ekapol, was all stressed out because he felt like it was his fault.
But some other Thai people had also walked out. We looked at our tickets. We definitely bought the ones for the English showing. We stood back and let Ekapol and the other Thai people talk to movie theater staff.
It turned out to be a simple mistake; they just put the wrong soundtrack on. We went back inside and watched about 10 minutes of Thai Harry Potter before the situation was rectified.
Whew.
Harry Potter in Thai when you paid for an English ticket = not so awesome.
We had been psyching ourselves up all day for Harry Potter. One of the Thai teachers named Ekapol was going with a group of eight of us, and he had called to reserve tickets.
We got to the box office, paid, and hung out in the mall until the movie started. At 7:00, we went inside to find our seats. The ridiculous Thai commercials started. I love them.
We stood up for the slide show of photos from the king's life and the stirring instrumental theme that goes along with it. Thais love their king, and this slide show makes farangs love and respect him, too.
The Harry Potter music started, and the title screen came up. Funnily enough, it was spelled in Thai. We didn't think anything of it.
When the first spoken lines came up, our hearts sank. It was all dubbed in Thai, no English, no subtitles. We looked at each other, got up, and walked out. Ekapol, poor Ekapol, was all stressed out because he felt like it was his fault.
But some other Thai people had also walked out. We looked at our tickets. We definitely bought the ones for the English showing. We stood back and let Ekapol and the other Thai people talk to movie theater staff.
It turned out to be a simple mistake; they just put the wrong soundtrack on. We went back inside and watched about 10 minutes of Thai Harry Potter before the situation was rectified.
Whew.
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