In highschool I could speak Chinese, I understood syncopation and I knew what an algorithm was.
Something’s aren’t like riding a bicycle, though I’m pretty sure if I hopped on a bicycle I would say ‘that’s not like riding a bicycle’. My hey-day of riding with one hand has well and truly past. Seemingly so has my minor grasp or the Chinese language, which after eavesdropping on a public conversation between native speakers, and picking up words like horse and tiger and mouth, has long since flown the coop.
There was a time that I competed in Chinese speaking competitions, admittedly I never reached the lofty heights of even a ‘highly commended’, but I stood in front of a group of university intellectuals, at the ripe age of sixteen, and belted out my best Mandarin speech. From memory it probably involved something like ‘I like playing computer games’, which I don’t, it was just my favourite phrase ‘wo xihuan wanr dianzi youxi’. That’s about all I can remember other than how to tell everyone to sit down and stand up, which was strummed into us every lesson for five years, and politely asking if I could go to the toilet.
Forgetting is such a horrible thing, yet something that I’m well experienced in (ask my husband). I wasn’t’ that experienced before my beautiful baby was born. Since then, nay since this morning, there is a list as long as my arm (in 8pt font of things I’ve forgotten).
Ask any teacher, as I was in a past life, we’ve all heard the phrase: ‘Why do we have to learn this %^#* ? We’re never going to use it it again’. Well you little smart mouthed cherub, you probably will, you just never know when you’re going to have to tell someone you love to play computer games.