When I was in Borneo, I heard by chance that Swan's son went into a pre-law course. I was alarmed, I personally felt his English was not at the level to handle such a course. Anyway, I was a few hundred miles away, the fee had been paid and he already started. So I bite my tongue and said nothing.
Three years later, he failed three times. Twice in pre-law and once in another foundation course. He came out to work in contract decoration or renovation. Recently he was seconded to a supplier in wooden flooring and he was the number one employee in this country for that new company.
I am an idea person and I shared with the mum gently about his need to improve his business English. At his current level, he could be a little more than a site supervisor. But suppose in a few years' time the post of a General Manager is vacant and he could not be considered as a candidate because of insufficient language skill, then what a pity it would be.
That is the problem many of the young people face these days in my country. I know that this century belongs to China. It is extremely important to know Chinese and speak Mandarin. Yet six years in a Chinese medium school, five years in a Malay medium high school, then five years of English tertiary education left most people trilingual but good in none of the three languages. I personally went through a tremendous sort of struggle to improve my English at the expense of my mother tongue. It is not desirable, neither is it a good situation. Every one of my children do not understand written Chinese, it varies from child to child how much (spoken) Mandarin, Cantonese and Hakka they understand. Yet please do not consider me as a traitor to Chinese culture, education and heritage. I know what is good for children with traits of the autistic spectrum. I wish every dyslexic sufferer need not go through my sort of torture to master three languages. Even with instant recall in terms of audio abilities, it was not easy. Both my nephews who went through Chinese primary education coming from an English speaking home reject Mandarin. Like so many of my contemporaries' children who survived this horrendous regime, they are unlikely to read, speak or think in Mandarin for the rest of their lives. The funny thing is, I actually love Chinese poems and verses, English is my preferred language, I adore the olden literature of the Malay language; while I worked at it diligently at age 17-18 I considered it a beautiful language. Yet out of the thousands of books in my book shelves, there is no Malay book and one solitary biography of Hudson Taylor in Chinese. In terms of psychology, you may think whatever you please. I am a product of the complex system in this former British colony, multi racial, multi religious society.
Yesterday I met a missionary who speaks ten languages. I wish I have that kind of gift, but I am very grateful that my life has been enriched with the treasures I have found and acquired in all three of the languages I so valiantly work to possess. God has been more than kind in sending me a parade of fantastic teachers who coached slow me over many years into the intricacies of mining all three languages to find my gems of great worth.
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