Yanwen’s blog

Days ago, I read a post from the Founder of Crossover Education on teaching standard English. He asked, "Is there anything like 普通 English like 普通话? Are you a native speaker?" The questions made me reflect on my own teaching journey.

My answer to both questions is NO. I’m not a native speaker, yet I consider myself well-qualified to teach ESL to first-generation immigrants here in the U.S. My students come from diverse backgrounds, including India, South Korea, Ukraine, and Central America.

I'm qualified because, first, I have walked in their shoes, experiencing the full spectrum of hardships faced by first-generation immigrants. This personal experience helps me empathize with the challenges they encounter here in the U.S.

Second, I understand that adult learners of any foreign language should not necessarily aim to sound like native speakers. Their primary goal should be effective communication. An accent is okay as long as they can understand others and make themselves understood.

Third, coming from an Asian culture, I understand the reluctance many Asians feel about speaking up for fear of making mistakes. They often need more encouragement to build their confidence. As their teacher, I serve as their cheerleader, listening to them patiently and gently nudging them to break out of their shells.

Fourth, I have conducted extensive research on adult education, which has equipped me with effective teaching strategies tailored to adult learners.

Finally, my journey has prepared me well for my role as an ESL teacher. It helps turn my personal experience into a bridge that helps others navigate their own paths in America.

My non-native perspective and first-generation immigrant experience allow me to connect deeply with my students. This connection enables me to offer them confidence in themselves, which is as valuable as language skills. This confidence helps them to better use their language skills in their lives.

Ultimately, my non-native perspective, my dedication and experience are not just qualifications; they are the foundation upon which I build a bridge of understanding and confidence for my students, empowering them to thrive in their new lives in the U.S.

My youngest sister shared a poignant moment with me yesterday. She was feeling low because she couldn't forget the scene when they said goodbye to her son in Shanghai recently. Her son appeared to be a completely different person from the one she remembered in 2011, when he first left for the U.S.

Back then, he was in his early 20s, looking reluctant and homesick 恋恋不舍 as he departed from his hometown, leaving behind his childhood home and the people he grew up with. Seeing her only child leaving for a distant land, my sister was also filled with reluctance. Yet, she was determined because she wanted him to become independent, firmly believing in the saying 好男儿志在四方 (Hǎo nán'ér zhì zài sì fāng), which means "a good man should aspire to big accomplishments far and wide."

Now, her son is indeed independent with his life in the U.S., leaving his aging parents behind and showing no trace of sentimentality. Ironically, my sister, feeling sad, has taken on deep the homesickness and longing the he once felt.

This situation brings to mind many scenes in nature, where animal parents nudge their offspring toward independence. Yet, as humans, we are bound by profound emotional and spiritual connections. Perhaps unlike animals, we deeply cherish the bonds with our loved ones, yearning for their presence even as we encourage their independence.

This is the unresolved paradox that humans face: on one hand, we want our children to be independent so they can support themselves as adults, on the other hand, parents miss the times when their children were close by.

In the end, perhaps the challenge is to find a balance between fostering independence and maintaining familial ties and meaningful relationships with adult children, which requires understanding, patience, love and a large dose of wisdom. After all, hopefully, we are in many ways different from animals.

I recently heard a real story about a 70-year-old man in China who shared his exercise videos online. His impressive, young-man like muscles attracted plenty of views and compliments, with many remarking that he looked like a young man. However, he suddenly died of heart failure.

As his online presence grew, so did the pressure to maintain his muscular image. The constant stream of likes and comments likely created an immense pressure to uphold the youthful persona he had projected. In his pursuit of external validation, he overexerted himself and tragically, it cost him his life.

If he had been well-anchored, with a clear idea of what he wanted for himself — a healthy body rather than public applause -— he might have avoided this.

This story made me reflect on my writing activity. I write every day, of course hoping to have a large readership. Sometimes, low readership can be discouraging.

However, I consider myself a super well-anchored person with a clear goal in mind. I understand that my goal is anything but internet attention. Writing is a highly valued creative activity, blessing me with more personal satisfaction than any external validation can provide. The size of readership is not relevant to my goal. I am keenly aware of the fleeting and capricious nature of external approval, so I don't let it bother me.

Finally, this cautionary story of an old man underscores the importance of coming to terms with the reality of our physical limitations. Social media can amplify external pressures and expectations, but it is crucial to remain true to who we are, -- not as young as we wish. Regardless of what we try to achieve, by staying focused on our goals, we can avoid the pitfalls of outside approval and find genuine satisfaction in our pursuits.

Today is Monday, Memorial Day, a day to remember fallen American soldiers. Coincidentally, I read the news about another death: the 37-year-old American actor Johnny Wactor, which occurred on Saturday morning.

Wactor, a "General Hospital" actor, was shot in downtown LA, California, while trying to stop three men from stealing the catalytic converter from his car. The three men fled, leaving Wactor to die in a local hospital.

The LA Times reports, "‘General Hospital’ actor Johnny Wactor’s slaying during L.A. theft sparks shock, anger, mourning." Sadly, killings like this occur daily in the U.S., but this incident gained attention because he was a well-liked actor.

Every time I read about a shooting crime like this, I think of Will Durant's definition of civilization:

"Civilization is social order promoting cultural creation. Four elements constitute it: economic provision, political organization, moral tradition, and the pursuit of knowledge and the arts."

Durant emphasizes the role of social order in creating prosperity in a society. The opposite of order is chaos, where extreme individual freedom, crime, violence, and the rule of the mighty prevail.

Throughout Chinese history, prosperities and cultural flourishing have always emerged in peaceful eras. Chinese people value peace above many things, which is why there is a saying, 宁为太平犬, 不为乱世人 (níng wéi tàipíng quǎn bù wéi luànshì rén) — It is better to be a dog in a peaceful time than a person in a war time.

On this Memorial Day, as we honor the sacrifices of those who were supposed to fight for peace and order, let us also reflect on the importance of maintaining social order against senseless crimes in our communities. The tragic death of Johnny Wactor is a stark reminder of the consequences of disorder in a society and the urgent need to uphold PEACE and the basic principles of human civilization.

We grew up watching movies like Walter Defends Sarajevo (瓦尔特保卫萨拉热窝), which depicts the brave Yugoslav fighters defending their homeland toward the end of World War II.

My heart is overwhelmed with profound nostalgia when I think of that movie and Yugoslavia at that time. China was relatively isolated then, with few friends in the world. What happened to the federal republic of Yugoslavia led by its strong leader Josip Tito?

In Chinese, there is a famous saying: 分久必合，合久必分 (fēn jiǔ bì hé, hé jiǔ bì fēn) — Unity will inevitably prevail after a prolonged separation, and a long period of unity will inevitably lead to separation. This describes the cyclical nature of Chinese history.

Are we seeing the same cycle in Southeast Europe? Perhaps. The former Yugoslavia went through significant social, ethnic, and political turmoil after the death of its great leader Tito, influenced by both internal conflicts and outside forces.

First, in every society, there are two forces at work: one for unity and another for separation. When the force for unity prevails, you have a united nation. Otherwise, you see a fragmented one like the former Yugoslavia.

Second, most of these shifts have historically been accomplished through war, with a few modern-day exceptions like the peaceful dissolution of the Soviet Union.

Third, internal factors are often the determining forces. As the saying goes, the easiest way to capture a castle is from within. The enemy within is the most dangerous.

President Lincoln echoed this sentiment when he said, "A house divided against itself cannot stand." Reflecting on the past, it becomes clear that the surest way to secure national unity is through internal cohesion and cooperation.

Ultimately, the cycles of unity and separation teach us that the internal strength of any entity, whether a nation or an organization or even a family, lies in its ability to foster internal solidarity while withstanding external pressures.