Sunday, January 30, 2011
more than words
another interesting cultural idea embedded in the Mandarin language: there is no distinction between the words "need" and "want."
Isn't that ice
So after Chinese New Year, I'll be preparing to conduct the second of two drama and movement activity sessions with teachers in our schools.
The first time around, I was asked two days before hand if I could come up with a workshop for our western (read: English-speaking) teachers who had to be quarantined at school while the children were home because of an outbreak of hand foot and mouth disease. Government regulations on that front don't make a ton of sense to me, since we were clearly sending people in from other schools, but apparently they weren't allowed to leave... but I digress. I decided on workshop content, aimed at ways to use drama and movement in the preK/K classroom that are not performance-based (high quality performances with a drill-til-you-drop kind of prep style are very popular in China, even in preschools), before I was told that they had decided the Chinese teachers were also very interested in my workshop, so they would provide a translator from the school to translate my workshop live.
Since arriving in China, I have been to several meetings and events that have needed to be conducted in both English and Chinese, so I was well aware that I'd need to cut my content approximately in half to allow for the extra time it would take to pause for translation. I also assumed I'd need to adjust the content a little to account for cultural differences between the western and Chinese teachers, though that was accomplished easily enough through consulting with my Chinese colleagues on the Education Team, who helped me to verify that the Chinese teachers would actually be willing to try the activities I had planned. And given that this would be my first experience facilitating something that was being translated, I expected that I wouldn't be able to anticipate all of the challenges involved. That much, at least, was definitely true.
My translator did a remarkable job (I think) given that he wasn't given any notice and we weren't given a change to discuss the content before beginning, and in fact seemed to enjoy himself. And for the most part, I had brought pictures where I thought words might be confusing to translate, and could demonstrate with western teachers when necessary. What I hadn't accounted for, though, was the difficulty in what I consider one of the most important parts of the workshop: discussion. The rhythm of a discussion is crucial, I noticed, in building enthusiasm in the topic, and that rhythm is distinctly disturbed by having to pause - after EVERY comment and question - for translation. When we broke up into small groups, we essentially segregated the room into English speakers and Chinese speakers for lack of a better option. The groups were mostly self-selected, so this wasn't an intentional divide so much as a practical one, I think, but I have mixed feelings about it nonetheless. We did have both groups report back on their discussions, and the reporting was translated, but overall I found it off-putting.
A few of the activities were also a little difficult to describe (apparently) in Chinese - I had groups create before and after tableaux from the story of The Three Little Pigs, which many of the classes were reading, and despite my best efforts, including demonstrating and several metaphors, could not effectively communicate the concept of "freeze." "Freeze" as in "Freeze tag." The phrases "like a statue," "a frozen picture" and even "don't move your body" did not seem to translate properly. It occurred to me that despite my wide range of attempts at describing the intended lack of motion, I had no idea how it was being translated. For all I knew, they were moving to simulate trying to keep warm because they were "freezing." Turns out, it is quite the challenge to clarify a miscommunication when you're not the one actually doing the communicating.
The activity - and all of the others, actually - went well in the end, and ultimately wasn't much upset by the language challenge, especially once they saw the group of Western teachers present their tableaux, and they huddled up to discuss a revision to what they had done. But it did cause me to wonder what else hadn't been effectively communicated? How often did they smile and nod in response to something that actually made no sense to them? What things were they not understanding that hadn't been as obvious as continuing to move when we said "freeze"? And how do I use that to make the next time more effective? What language can I use, and what choices can I make to make the activities more accessible, so less important detail gets lost in the sieve of translation?
On the other hand, I suppose I could just learn to speak Mandarin.
The first time around, I was asked two days before hand if I could come up with a workshop for our western (read: English-speaking) teachers who had to be quarantined at school while the children were home because of an outbreak of hand foot and mouth disease. Government regulations on that front don't make a ton of sense to me, since we were clearly sending people in from other schools, but apparently they weren't allowed to leave... but I digress. I decided on workshop content, aimed at ways to use drama and movement in the preK/K classroom that are not performance-based (high quality performances with a drill-til-you-drop kind of prep style are very popular in China, even in preschools), before I was told that they had decided the Chinese teachers were also very interested in my workshop, so they would provide a translator from the school to translate my workshop live.
Since arriving in China, I have been to several meetings and events that have needed to be conducted in both English and Chinese, so I was well aware that I'd need to cut my content approximately in half to allow for the extra time it would take to pause for translation. I also assumed I'd need to adjust the content a little to account for cultural differences between the western and Chinese teachers, though that was accomplished easily enough through consulting with my Chinese colleagues on the Education Team, who helped me to verify that the Chinese teachers would actually be willing to try the activities I had planned. And given that this would be my first experience facilitating something that was being translated, I expected that I wouldn't be able to anticipate all of the challenges involved. That much, at least, was definitely true.
My translator did a remarkable job (I think) given that he wasn't given any notice and we weren't given a change to discuss the content before beginning, and in fact seemed to enjoy himself. And for the most part, I had brought pictures where I thought words might be confusing to translate, and could demonstrate with western teachers when necessary. What I hadn't accounted for, though, was the difficulty in what I consider one of the most important parts of the workshop: discussion. The rhythm of a discussion is crucial, I noticed, in building enthusiasm in the topic, and that rhythm is distinctly disturbed by having to pause - after EVERY comment and question - for translation. When we broke up into small groups, we essentially segregated the room into English speakers and Chinese speakers for lack of a better option. The groups were mostly self-selected, so this wasn't an intentional divide so much as a practical one, I think, but I have mixed feelings about it nonetheless. We did have both groups report back on their discussions, and the reporting was translated, but overall I found it off-putting.
A few of the activities were also a little difficult to describe (apparently) in Chinese - I had groups create before and after tableaux from the story of The Three Little Pigs, which many of the classes were reading, and despite my best efforts, including demonstrating and several metaphors, could not effectively communicate the concept of "freeze." "Freeze" as in "Freeze tag." The phrases "like a statue," "a frozen picture" and even "don't move your body" did not seem to translate properly. It occurred to me that despite my wide range of attempts at describing the intended lack of motion, I had no idea how it was being translated. For all I knew, they were moving to simulate trying to keep warm because they were "freezing." Turns out, it is quite the challenge to clarify a miscommunication when you're not the one actually doing the communicating.
The activity - and all of the others, actually - went well in the end, and ultimately wasn't much upset by the language challenge, especially once they saw the group of Western teachers present their tableaux, and they huddled up to discuss a revision to what they had done. But it did cause me to wonder what else hadn't been effectively communicated? How often did they smile and nod in response to something that actually made no sense to them? What things were they not understanding that hadn't been as obvious as continuing to move when we said "freeze"? And how do I use that to make the next time more effective? What language can I use, and what choices can I make to make the activities more accessible, so less important detail gets lost in the sieve of translation?
On the other hand, I suppose I could just learn to speak Mandarin.
...it happens
So, David Sedaris was in Beijing for three days before he told us the most noticeable thing about it was the excrement everywhere. To be fair, it is a rather prominent and surprising feature, and he also didn't use the word "excrement." He noted the many striking ways it's different from Japan (read: not clean and not polite), and acknowledged the difficulty with taxis and language. While he did tell the room full (and I do mean full - every seat in the theater space was sold out) of Beijing expats that his impressions wouldn't keep him from returning, I did feel mildly protective of the city. And also a little judged. I think this is maybe a sign that I actually now accept that I live here. Also, that I don't like being judged.
We did hear some lovely stories from his newest book, however, and an entertaining quote that reminded me of at least a career-related reason I enjoy being in China:
"That's education in the United States - a kid can't read, so we put sneakers on a horse."
We did hear some lovely stories from his newest book, however, and an entertaining quote that reminded me of at least a career-related reason I enjoy being in China:
"That's education in the United States - a kid can't read, so we put sneakers on a horse."
and it's only 9am
Best thing my boss has said to corporate office today: "I would not sign up for this course if you don't know how to spell 'course'."
Friday, January 28, 2011
a giant game of telephone
Today, I had a meeting in three languages. The Korean education specialist who came to meet with my boss and our team (to suggest an international Early Childhood exchange between our schools and kindergartens in Korea - neat!) brought a translator who spoke Korean and Chinese, which was then translated into English for my boss's (and my) benefit. This was quite an interesting experience, since for the first time since arriving in China, I was watching my Chinese colleagues wait for a translation AND preferring to hear Chinese over the other language being spoken in the room, since I actually understood about 20% of what was going on when it was happening in Mandarin. As opposed to the...well, nothing in Korean. Though I'm pretty sure she laughed once, and I think that was pretty much the same in both languages.
This makes me wonder about the complexity (and probably unfortunate length) of other more important multi-national meetings. I now have an amusing and critically disturbing image in my head of a UN meeting taking place as a long game of telephone, with interpreters whispering between each representative and by the time the message goes down the line and up and around and zig zags back to the front of the room, the proposed treaty becomes some nonsense idea like requiring pants for all domesticated mammals, or the Euro.
At any rate, there seems a frightening amount of room for error, and it makes me wonder what percentage of (mis)communication accidentally resulted in conflict prior to the simulcast-concurrently interpreted-digi-babel-era in which we currently exist.
aye-aie-ayi (<--- at least three different meanings).
This makes me wonder about the complexity (and probably unfortunate length) of other more important multi-national meetings. I now have an amusing and critically disturbing image in my head of a UN meeting taking place as a long game of telephone, with interpreters whispering between each representative and by the time the message goes down the line and up and around and zig zags back to the front of the room, the proposed treaty becomes some nonsense idea like requiring pants for all domesticated mammals, or the Euro.
At any rate, there seems a frightening amount of room for error, and it makes me wonder what percentage of (mis)communication accidentally resulted in conflict prior to the simulcast-concurrently interpreted-digi-babel-era in which we currently exist.
aye-aie-ayi (<--- at least three different meanings).
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Bumper Bowling and Forced Rhymes
It seems the greatest challenges in man-made systems come from the precarious balance between where to provide structure and where to provide freedom. What do we tell them they have to do, and where do we allow them to do whatever they want? What do we make them do versus what we let them do versus where we don't say anything at all? Where is the line of trust versus control? When is it necessary and when does it backfire? And is - as our CEO recently said unabashedly in a corporate strategic planning meeting about the new strategy (almost ironically called "Project Autonomy") - autonomy always an illusion?
I consistently refer back to one example of structure being necessary for creativity: if someone asks you to name something green, the list can go on for minutes, maybe longer, of things in the universe both real and imagined that are green. If the prompt becomes simply "name something" the list quickly degenerates to objects and ideas in the immediate surroundings. Without an entry point into the neural pathways of the brain provided by the structure - and in a manner of speaking limitation - of an adjective, the brain can't be creative. It can't create something from nothing, in other words, and the something it needs is in essence a limitation. But give it too many limitations - for example, name something green that grows on the ground - and the list becomes, unsurprisingly, too limited. Unless you're specifically looking for an answer of "grass" or "weeds," in which case, why ask the question?
This concept is too closely related to the same concept in government and other man-made systems to even be considered a metaphor. It is the same idea, the same challenge, the same constant experimenting to find the perfect balance of control and freedom. I guess, perhaps, it all comes down to the question "what is the goal?"
I consistently refer back to one example of structure being necessary for creativity: if someone asks you to name something green, the list can go on for minutes, maybe longer, of things in the universe both real and imagined that are green. If the prompt becomes simply "name something" the list quickly degenerates to objects and ideas in the immediate surroundings. Without an entry point into the neural pathways of the brain provided by the structure - and in a manner of speaking limitation - of an adjective, the brain can't be creative. It can't create something from nothing, in other words, and the something it needs is in essence a limitation. But give it too many limitations - for example, name something green that grows on the ground - and the list becomes, unsurprisingly, too limited. Unless you're specifically looking for an answer of "grass" or "weeds," in which case, why ask the question?
This concept is too closely related to the same concept in government and other man-made systems to even be considered a metaphor. It is the same idea, the same challenge, the same constant experimenting to find the perfect balance of control and freedom. I guess, perhaps, it all comes down to the question "what is the goal?"
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Engrish (that's Japan)
Some of my favorite translations thus far:
In today's memo: "Yesterday, there was a case of fight brawl."
A sign at the summer palace: "Look out knockhead"
In today's memo: "Yesterday, there was a case of fight brawl."
A sign at the summer palace: "Look out knockhead"
Sunday, January 16, 2011
no news
I'm not sure what it means about me, news, or society that I'm now having difficulty distinguishing between real headlines and fake headlines. It's probably not a good sign when my first response to NPR's news page is "wait, is this the Onion?"
figures of speech
Particularly interesting is the learning of new words that tell a great deal about the culture in which they are used. "Question" and "Problem" are the same word, for example, and locals have a clear understanding that this is because the two are essentially the same here. "Learn" and "Study" are the same word, which explains a great deal about their education program. And the word for "Freeze" doesn't actually apply very well to a statue-like lack of motion. Though that last one probably doesn't have many larger societal implications than a notable lack of tableaux and freeze tag.
assorted thoughts
It is really entertaining the number of different methods one can use to try to communicate a simple message in a completely different language. I'm pretty sure I amused the ayis with my creative rendition of "I need a paper plate."
Life in China is essentially a sitcom. And some episodes are better than others. But they're all equally ridiculous.
Everything here smells like smoke. Despite my valid and tempting argument that given the horrendously smoke-concentrated air I may as well be enjoying some benefits of cigarettes, I have ultimately decided against taking up smoking them.
Life in China is essentially a sitcom. And some episodes are better than others. But they're all equally ridiculous.
Everything here smells like smoke. Despite my valid and tempting argument that given the horrendously smoke-concentrated air I may as well be enjoying some benefits of cigarettes, I have ultimately decided against taking up smoking them.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
only in China... maybe.
some quotes from this week:
"I dropped my phone and it lost half an hour."
Also, I dropped it again and the screen went black. The third time I dropped it, both of these things were remedied.
"Maybe my teeth have amnesia."
"No Peking." That was, in fact, our trivia team name this week. The second time.
The first time, we discovered that Eryn's specialty knowledge area is, in fact, "Celebrity Sex Faces." The team member who claimed his specialty was 18th century magicians nearly missed the actual question about a magician in 1790. There was one. Because this is China.
"I dropped my phone and it lost half an hour."
Also, I dropped it again and the screen went black. The third time I dropped it, both of these things were remedied.
"Maybe my teeth have amnesia."
"No Peking." That was, in fact, our trivia team name this week. The second time.
The first time, we discovered that Eryn's specialty knowledge area is, in fact, "Celebrity Sex Faces." The team member who claimed his specialty was 18th century magicians nearly missed the actual question about a magician in 1790. There was one. Because this is China.
(self/un) fulfilling
I'm not sure I would have bought into it before, but it becomes more and more clear here that if you spend long enough treating someone as though they are a certain way, they will eventually become that way. In an Elphaba No-good-deed kind of way, I don't think I even consider it a character flaw to succumb to this, so much as an un-salmon-like acknowledgment of the frustration caused by the amount of effort necessary to fight it exceeding the reward. Especially in a place that seems efficient at (perhaps only) one thing: removing incentives.
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