6/29/2026
Today an old classmate in Tianjin shared a video story about the Chinese language. I looked it up and found that it was true.
For many years, the United Nations has observed that Chinese versions of its official documents are generally much shorter than their equivalents in many alphabetic languages, especially English and French. A report of about 5,000 words in English may require only about 3,000 to 3,500 Chinese characters. The reason is Chinese often expresses the same ideas more compactly.
That story reminded me of a conversation I had with my family in China earlier this year.
When I told them that I planned to teach our new grandson Chinese, they responded, "China is becoming stronger. Knowing Chinese will be useful in the future."
I understand that way of thinking, but I see language not just a tool for future jobs. In fact, I think this mindset partly explains why so many American-born Chinese cannot speak Chinese. Their parents often ask a practical question: Will my child actually need it? If the answer appears to be no, they don't speak Chinese to their children. And Chinese language disappears within a generation.
My own reason is much simpler. Chinese is the only language I can speak as a native speaker. It is the language in which I can express myself naturally. If I spoke Spanish or Russian as naturally as I speak Chinese, I would gladly teach those languages as well.
For me, teaching Chinese is not about preparing my grandson for job in China. It is about giving him another window through which to see the world.
Language is the key to a culture. Only by learning a language can we begin to understand the people who speak it—their history, literature, stories, values, and ways of thinking. Every language carries assumptions and perspectives that cannot always be translated.
Learning another language and culture also changes the way we understand ourselves.
Once we see another culture from the inside, we naturally begin comparing it with our own. We notice differences we had never questioned before. We become more aware and critical of our own assumptions instead of accepting them simply because we grew up with them.
That is one of the greatest gifts of learning another language: it teaches intellectual humility. It reminds us that our own way is not the only way.
People who understand more than one language are often better equipped to see and appreciate differences, communicate across cultures, and remain open-minded when encountering different ideas and cultures.
If my grandson grows up speaking Chinese, I hope it will certainly be useful someday. But even if it never helps him get a job or make more money, I will still consider it one of the greatest gifts I could have given him.
Because I am not simply teaching him another language. I am giving him a tool to understand the world.
Recently, I wrote about Liu Kaixin, Li Xiaohua, and now language, hoping to leave something meaningful for my children and grandson.