How to Learn Chinese in 2,200 Not-So-Easy Lessons

By Jay Mathews

Washington Post Staff Writer

Tuesday, August 9, 2005; 4:45 PM


I spent several years, and some of your tax dollars, trying to learn

Chinese, so I need to say something about a new campaign to get that

language into U.S. schools and colleges.


The Asia Society just put out a report (see the Web

site ) on how more Americans can learn Chinese. There was a world

conference on the subject last month in Beijing. Chinese language

instruction is, obviously, a good idea. China is our biggest trading

partner, after Canada and Mexico. The country reminds me in some ways of

America in the 1870s. It is recovering from horrid domestic events,

getting stronger, with the potential to be the most important nation in

the world. Chinese, along with Arabic, should be among our top foreign

language priorities.


But let me -- just this once because I don't like recalling the pain --

tell you that learning Chinese is not going to be easy.

Chinese culture -- its philosophy, its art, its code of conduct, its food,

its literature -- is one of the wonders of human civilization. It is so

humane and so productive that I share few of the fears that the rise of

Chinese economic and military power inspires in some Americans.

But the Chinese, despite all their good points, have a very difficult and

in some ways inefficient language. Those Americans ready to pursue the

worthy goal of learning it should be ready for a long, hard march.

Unkind people are saying at this point: Mathews may have been too dumb or

too lazy to master Chinese, but the Chinese themselves seem to be handling

their language fine. That is true. It is one more indication of the drive

and ambition of those 1.3 billion people that most of them have become

fluent and literate in a spoken language that includes four tones and a

written language based on ideographs that give few clues to pronunciation

and sometimes drive typists mad.


But it is also true that having to learn thousands of ideographic

characters instead of just the two dozen or so letters of the Western

alphabet has forced Chinese education into a deep, narrow groove. Chinese

students and teachers have grown accustomed to relying on memorization,

the way they learned to read. There is less creative thinking in the

schools as a result, some scholars think.


For more than a century the Chinese have been arguing among themselves

over how to simplify the written language without cutting themselves off

from one of the great literary mother lodes of the past 3,000 years. The

invention of the digital computer and the Internet have eased the

reproduction and transmission of written Chinese, but children in China,

and non-Chinese high school and college students like I once was, have to

pound the meaning of all those slants and dots and curves into their

brains, and hope they stay there.


Take one small example. When I lived with my family in Beijing in the late

1970s and early 1980s, my six-year-old son got to be a pretty good reader.

There wasn't much television to distract him, and as a budding baseball

and football fan he loved to decipher the sports pages of the

International Herald Tribune. When Chinese saw him reading the newspaper

in the dining hall of the hotel where we lived, they were amazed, since

their equally bright children needed much more time before they could

handle a Chinese newspaper.


You can imagine, then, what it was like for me at age 19 when I took my

first Chinese lessons in college.


Learning the spoken language was not so bad. It had few annoyances like

gender and tense and verb changes based on rank. My first Chinese

professor was Rulan Chao Pian, who used a system invented by her father,

the legendary UC Berkeley linguist Yuen R. Chao. She and her father shared

a mischievous sense of humor, although I did not think it was so funny at

first. One of her first exercises was a short story made of words that

used only one Chinese sound, shi (sounds like 'sure'). It was totally

incomprehensible -- just as the sentence "Sure sure sure sure, sure-sure,

sure sure sure" would be in English -- unless you got all the tones right

or could see the characters.


Once I absorbed this sobering introduction to the maddening subtleties of

Chinese expression, Pian handed me her father's textbook. He had a unique

way of romanizing Chinese word sounds so we could learn how to pronounce

them properly. Some Chinese language textbooks assigned the numbers one to

four to each of the four tones, and you would pronounce the word based on

which number was next to it. Some books used little marks going up, down

or otherwise to indicate the high, rising, low and falling tones. Chao

decided to give a different spelling of the same sound to indicate

different tones.


There is a common Chinese sound that most American newspapers spell

"zhang" (pronounced sort of like "jong"), under the standard pinyin

romanization system used in China. Chao spelled that sound four ways: jang

if it were first tone, jarng if it were second tone, jaang for third tone

and janq for fourth tone. Different words required different spelling

changes. Good old "wu," thankfully spelled that way in nearly every

system, was u for first tone, wu for second tone, wuu for third tone and

wuh for fourth tone.


Once I practiced it, it became second nature. By the time I got to the

chapter where Chao, a huge Lewis Carroll fan, asked us to memorize his

translation of "The Walrus and the Carpenter" in Chinese, I was admiring

the professor's sense of the ridiculous.


But Chao and Pian had no happy way to learn the written characters. We

just had to sit down and do it. My girlfriend began to tell our friends I

was bringing my Chinese flashcards on dates. This was malicious slander,

but she continues to spread this myth 38 years into our marriage, and I am

not allowed to forget this most difficult part of my education.


The Asia Society report says it takes "an educated English speaker 1,300

hours to achieve the native-proficiency of an educated native speaker of

Chinese, while it would only take about 480 hours to achieve the same

level in French or Spanish." In Sunday's edition of The Washington Post

Magazine , my Post colleague Elizabeth Chang quotes another source saying

that it actually takes 2,200 class hours to achieve full proficiency.

Chang's magazine article was not really about learning Chinese. It was

about learning Arabic. She visited a class at the International Language

Institute in Northwest Washington and watched several people working with

teacher Mustafa Alhashimi. Arabic, Chinese, Japanese and Korean each takes

2,200 class hours -- or about four years even if you attended a very tough

school that had you in language class three hours a day every weekday for

nine months a year.


That helps explain why, according to the Asia Society, a 1998 survey of

college language instruction showed 656,590 students taking Spanish, but

only 28,456 taking Chinese and 5,505 taking Arabic. In that survey,

Spanish was in first place, followed by French (199,064), German (89,020),

Italian (49,287) and Japanese (43,141). Chinese was in sixth place,

followed by Russian, Arabic and Korean in that order.


The number of students taking Chinese and Arabic has increased

substantially since, but we don't know how well they are doing in those

classes, and even great strides forward are going to seem very modest. The

Asia Society report asks this question: "What would it take to have 5

percent of high school students learning Chinese by 2015?" It estimates

about 24,000 students in Chinese classes in K-12 schools, plus 150,000 in

what it calls heritage schools -- private after-school or Saturday

programs that my ethnic Chinese friends remember their parents forcing

them to attend. Even if we counted all those 175,000 students, that would

be only about 1 percent of American high school students.


The Asia Society suggests many ways to increase these numbers: encourage

the new Advanced Placement Chinese program, promote a new Chinese-designed

online game and teaching program called CHENGO, give qualified Chinese

teachers shortcuts to jobs in our schools, help the 2,400 high schools who

have indicated they would like to add Chinese, improve teaching materials

and look for federal money, like the National Defense Education Act that

funded language instruction in the 1960s and 1970s, including some of my

graduate school study.


I applaud the Asia Society's plan. I have seen how Chinese culture

blossoms in free societies. I want to bring the United States and China

closer. Since the Chinese are spending so much time and effort learning

our language, we should try to return the compliment. Chang said neither

she nor her husband speak Chinese, but they are happy their sixth grade

daughter will be starting a class in that language this fall at Hoover

Middle School in Montgomery County.


The mental exercise is good, and China is going to be an increasingly

vital part of our world. Our Chinese may never be perfect. Mine certainly

never was, but I am glad I tried.