“And this marks the end of my workshop,” I finally spoke in English, enormous relief written all over my face. Thunderous applause from my participants enveloped around me like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. They were beaming with approval, their welcoming smiles injecting confidence into my veins.
I was then working in Japan as the only Singaporean under the Japan Exchange Teaching program. Since I was bilingual in English and Chinese, I was entrusted to helm the Trading Places seminar and teach Chinese for ONE FULL HOUR to native English speakers from all over the world as well as Japanese homeroom teachers.
Oh, how overwhelmed I had felt through my preparation process. How was I to communicate my ideas effectively in Chinese to a room full of acquaintances and strangers who didn’t know the language? But I couldn’t say nope to the organisers because I felt compelled to introduce my cultural heritage to this international audience. They needed to learn how it felt like to be bombarded by a foreign language so that they could empathise better with their students who were learning English.
The day of the workshop arrived, and I plunged straight into it. Guided by the desire to let my participants learn how to introduce themselves, I showed them sock puppets and taught them the relevant greetings. Having broken the ice, I gave each participant a number card. They were instructed to walk around the room and find someone else with the same number. After locating a partner, they then had to come up to me and say aloud the number in Chinese.
Undoubtedly, sock puppets and card games did not a memorable workshop make, so in order to create a climax, I played a soothing Chinese song called “The Moon Represents My Heart” sung by the one and only Teresa Teng. My poor participants must have been bored by the incessant drilling of unfamiliar characters. Immediately, the mood shifted. Some swayed in unison to me singing the song. Others accompanied my singing, trying their utmost to follow along. I was a freaking pop star!
After the magic of my workshop had dissipated, I read the mixed feedback provided by my participants. Some thoroughly enjoyed themselves; others were hopelessly lost. But everyone agreed that they appreciated this cultural firehose, in which they tried valiantly to keep up with my firing of Chinese words.
(399 words)