Class(ic) Beginnings

I've used a variety of different methods to learn Cantonese. It's very likely that I will get into them one day. The first structured learning I did was by taking a government sponsored Cantonese course for foreigners (to help us fit in and all that). I ended up taking all three levels, so there will most likely be more posts about that class. But for now, we'll just go back to the beginning. My very own Canto origin story. 

It was the first day of the government Cantonese class.  I’d heard about it the first time I lived in Hong Kong, but I didn’t feel like sacrificing three hours of my only day off to a class.  More school!  My mom had taken it before and thought that Wallace was a great teacher.  Since I had moved back to Hong Kong and decided to get more serious about learning, I decided to take the class, joining my mother who was sitting in for a second round (it's all about that repetition).

Mom and I met up before the class with time to spare so we could enjoy a treat together.  We settled on Taiwanese milk teas, the strong chocolate kind.  

When it was fifteen 'til, we gathered our things, and Mom led the way to the class. I never would have found it on my own, since you have to squeeze through one of those tiny doors in a metal wall, walk up the stairs next to cordoned off escalators, and fumble your way down an unlit hall to the elevator.  Apparently plenty of people could find it though, as there were four students ahead of us when we arrived.

We chose seats in the back. I always hate having people sitting behind me, staring at my head or maybe even poking me with their foot. Mom said that the last time the back was cooler than the front, an important consideration in summer. I pulled out my application and the class fee (a staggering $100HKD for fifteen lessons), smoothed open a new page in my notebook, and waited.
As it neared four thirty, the room started to fill.  There were a variety of foreigners: Filipino, French, Indian, American, Indonesian, British, etc. At exactly four thirty, the teacher, Wallace, closed the back door and strode to the front of the classroom.  “Now he’s going to talk about being on time and not missing classes,” Mom whispered in my ear, grinning. Ever chipper, she seemed to revel in knowing the ropes.

        She was right. Wallace smiled benevolently at all of us and launched into his introduction. He’d taught this class for more than a decade, and teaching is his passion.  But, he cocked his head and leaned forward to give his words more weight: don’t abuse the privilege.

        “I received seventy application forms but there are only thirty people in the class. If you don’t want to do the work or aren’t able to come, then please don’t! Give your spot to someone else.”  His speech was interrupted by the creak of the door slowly being opened. We all turned to see a family of parents and a ten-year-old son trying to slip inside.

        “Excuse me.” Wallace looked down his nose at the family.

        “We are sorry.” The father looked hesitantly at Wallace who was shaking his head.  They quickly scurried to three open seats and sat down.

        “Look everyone, I’m reasonable. All I ask if that you be reasonable as well. If you’re a good student then I’ll be good to you. If you’re a bad student then I’ll be bad to you. It’s as simple as that.” The Indian family got out their notebooks and seemed to studiously avoid William’s eye. He continued on with his lesson, but kept getting interrupted by students coming in. Each time he stopped and gave us a short encore of the good student lecture.

        “We’re off to a bad start,” he said, shaking his head.  “I’ve learned that the first day is an indicator of the whole class.”  Just then the door opened again. A girl stepped inside and looked around uncertainly, stopping on Wallace’s disapproving face.

        “What time is it?”  He asked her sternly.

        “4:30.”

        “No, that’s what time you were supposed to be here.  Now it’s almost 5:00.”

        “Well there weren’t any people out there and I couldn’t find it…”

        “Look at your classmates.  They all made it here.”

        “Well, ok. I’ll just go then.”
He didn’t say anything, and she left. The class shifted uncomfortably.

        “Wow, that's never happened before.” Mom whispered in my ear. “He usually just gives them a hard time and then calls them back. He’s getting stricter.”

        Just five minutes later the door opened and a young guy slipped through the door.  Without saying anything, he hurriedly crosses the room to the only remaining seat next to me and slid into it.  Wallace shot a disapproving look his way but didn’t say anything.

        “That guy’s lucky he just sat down.” Mom whispered again. “If he said anything maybe he would have been sent away too.”

I picked up my pen and wrote down my first notes in my first class.

Daai6 ga1 hou2

Hello, everybody