I often walked through an area where these boats were being made
One of the river restaurants
Typical street scenes. This is the sort of place that I sometimes get a cheap eat.
These last three weeks have been dominated by the challenges and frustrations of language school. Twice a day I have squirmed under the scrutiny of “Thay the Tormentor” as my inadequacies in learning this difficult language are repeatedly exposed. By the end I can see that I have made some progress. I am able to recognize far more words and can attempt to sound them out, but I am still bamboozled most of the time. Every morning and afternoon more and more words and phrases were added to the extensive list that I was expected to learn and understand.
The teaching and learning process used has made me very appreciative of the pedagogy that we follow in New Zealand. The reliance on rote learning, without any props other that a whiteboard, makes no allowance for differing learning styles and the severe approach of the tutor that I was allocated was daunting. During the first week I had two tutors but after that, perhaps in recognition of my extreme incompetence, I had “Thay the Terrible” for every lesson. Repeatedly in class he pounced upon every error I made as it left my lips with cries of “no, no, no, Co Robyn. Not like that, no, no, no not like that. You have learnt that already. You must concentrate. You must follow Vietnamese grammar. You must study.” Only once or twice did he ever give me a word of praise. Sometimes I was particularly frustrated by his insistence on changing the questions from the structure that I had painfully learnt to double negatives so that the required answer was impossible for me to achieve. I also found it distressing that he insisted on asking me to guess how to say things that I had not yet encountered so that he could gleefully laugh and declare that I am wrong. I do appreciate that going over and over the same material must be incredibly tedious for him but at times it did feel like he gained sadistic pleasure from my failures. I have to admit that in turn I got perverse pleasure from listening to his efforts to pronounce some English words such as “geography” and “sachet”.
By the end of each class I was wrung out with exhaustion. My brain was fuzzy and my body ached from the physical tension of struggling to recall and reproduce the correct words, grammatical structures and tones. Going through this process was the most difficult intellectual challenge that I have ever faced. Each day I had to steel my resolve not to give in to the temptation to wag class or to rebel like a fourteen year old. I do appreciate that we are very fortunate to be supported to learn some of the language and already feel that the little that I have learnt provides some insights into the culture and thinking of Vietnamese people but I do believe that the process could be more effective and less painful.
Back at my hotel I tried to use a variety of ways to intake and memorize the information but, even though I was only in class for three hours each day, I was so tired that I had difficulty summoning the will and the wherewithal to follow this through consistently. In order to learn the vocabulary I made flash cards with the words and phrases that I have been given on them and have well over 300 hundred of these. I mastered recall of about 60% but my biggest problem is remembering the correct grammatical structures when I attempt to put them into sentences and recalling the right tone for each word. One thing that I have found interesting is that when I am asked some of the questions the answer pops into my head but in Te Reo Maori. It seems that this learning is directly linking to the tiny part of my brain that stores the little bit of Te Reo that I have learnt.
The last few lessons became nothing but a farce. In an effort to ensure that he had “taught” me everything required “TtT” continued at breakneck speed while at times I gave up even trying to take notes. “We must run” he declared as he covered the whiteboard with increasingly erratic scribble. In one period of less than an hour, without even pauses for practice, I was supposed to learn a huge number of words and phrases that would allow me to give directions to a taxi driver. By the time he had written about one way streets, three and four street intersections, directions for roundabouts, parking prohibitions and street signs I declared that it was ridiculous and that I was not learning anything. Undeterred he boxed on while I, fully into my role of a fourteen year old, sat sullenly refusing to participate beyond the bare minimum. Finally he confidently reached the end, satisfied that he had done his duty. The only things that I actually learnt from the whole ordeal were the words for left and right which will at least be useful.
Finally it was my last day today. I had an hour and a half test which included aural, oral and written tasks. I found it very difficult and have no idea what my score will be. True to form my nemesis continued to be impossible as I tried to complete the test. He sat across the desk from me muttering with disapproval as I scratched my head, not only from lack of knowledge, but also because the intention of some of the questions mystified me. He harried me with comments like “you have learnt this Co Robyn, you must concentrate” as I endeavored to string together bits and pieces of knowledge. I was able to recall a significant amount of the vocabulary but I am sure that I made many mistakes with the grammatical structures. Interestingly he surreptitiously gave me clues about some parts. I suspect that my score is seen as a reflection on him and he was prepared compromise the process in order for me to pass. Much to his frustration I ignored him most of the time believing that the test score should authentically reflect my knowledge. After the main part of the test I had an oral test with the school principal. This part was a much less arduous process.
Goodness knows what the result will be but it is over and I am determined not to stress about it any more. Despite my inadequacies, irritation and exasperation I have actually learnt quite a lot from “Thay the Tyrannical” over the last few weeks. When I recover sufficiently I will enroll in language classes in Quy Nhon. Hopefully I will now be in a position to start learning how to really use some language for simple communication.
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