In Which, Um, Yes?

I knew it was coming before the word even left their mouths -- the fleeting hint of panic flashing across their faces, the momentarily closed eyes clearly indicating a brain screaming, "AIEEEE!!! DON'T PANIC! THINK!" and then the face quickly arranged into one of three expressions:

1. pathetic, woebegone hound dog-style hopefulness
2. let's-roll-the-dice pluck
3. owlishly wise

And then they'd say the same word one of three ways, depending on their expression:

1. Yes?
2. Yes!
3. Yes. (This one was accompanied by a knowing nod.)

At which point I'd inwardly sigh and repeat my question: "Where... are... you... from?"

I was midway through oral exams, done one-on-one with each of my students at the end of the term. I asked students questions from what we'd studied during the previous months, they (in theory) answered and we had a nice little conversation. And sometimes it worked out that way. Sometimes my students and I had great little chats and I wrote A+ in my grade book with an ecstatic flourish.

But then there were the Other Times.

I could always tell it was going to be one of those Other Times when a student slunk into the teachers' office with all the enthusiasm of a visit to the oral surgeon. They'd slouch into the chair near mine and either avoid eye contact or tremble pitifully. I wrung my heart out for them and tried to be gentle.

"What's your name?"
"Where are you from?"
"What do you like?"

Um, yes?

I tried not to sigh. But sometimes... *sigh* If I paused or wilted even a little, they quickly amended to an emphatic "No!" Then I just smiled, said it slower, nodded encouragingly and, finally, whispered hints in Chinese. In the end, everyone got a sticker on their hand and encouraging pats or squeezes to convey my heartfelt message of, "You! Good-ish job, you!" I knew they were trying their best.

Plus, I'm not exactly in a position to judge. Like my students, I'm a congenital guesser.

Sometimes, it's the only thing to do with these impossible languages. As hard as I study Chinese, it remains my Waterloo. In my darker moments, I believe it's the most elaborate practical joke foisted on the world, and that these alleged "Chinese" speakers go home, lock their doors and have a merry laugh, all the while speaking a normal language.

Fortunately, Mandarin Chinese has a sentence construction where people end a thought with "dui bu dui (right or wrong)," "shi bu shi (yes or no)," "you mei you (have don't have)" -- things like that. For example, I could go to a store and say, "Wo yao suan nai -- you mei you? (I want yogurt -- do you have it or not?)" (Which looks really aggressive, but I'd say it nicely.)

So I figure, when people talk to me -- and I don't understand all or most of it, of course -- all I have to do is guess right. My odds of saying the correct thing are 50 percent, odds I can live with.

Unlike my students, however, the only expression I can muster is pathetic, woebegone hound dog-style hopefulness: "Um. Shi? You? Dui?" Like my students, I always start with the affirmative. Positivity must count for something! If I'm met with a weird expression, I quickly amend my answer. Bu dui! Mei you! Bu shi!

Sometimes I even say the right thing, and mentally put a sticker on my own hand, awarding myself an A+ for effort and praying the conversation ends there.