It’s an oft regurgitated theme among adults the world over. The “real world”. The idea that life for adults is nothing like the carefree, enjoyable time of youth. That upon reaching adulthood you have obligations and responsibilities. I still occasionally think about this from time to time, and sure there is some credence to this concept on certain levels, but the idea that childhood is a completely carefree time in one’s existence is just preposterous.
Middle School Busy Years
There was obviously the ongoing crusade between Mrs. J and me. This certainly took up a significant portion of my time. General daily attacks had expanded to include not only rubber bands but spit-wads as well.
For my inexperienced friends let me explain what this is. It’s quite genius in its simplicity and effectiveness. Tools needed: a straw, a sheet of blank notebook paper (I have used fully written sheets of paper before, the taste of ink is not great and may even be toxic with excessive use.) and plenty of spit. One will first tear a small 1cm x 2 cm strip off the sheet of notebook paper. Place this in your mouth and soak thoroughly with saliva. Using the tip of your tongue, roll this into a small ball. While steadying the straw with one hand, place one end into your mouth. Maneuver the wet ball of paper into the straw with your tongue. Then point the straw at your intended target, take a deep breath and blow the ball of paper through the straw toward said target. Simple. Effective. And non-surprising, still fun for someone of advanced years.
It was a common sight on bus number 12, an array of sloppy wads of paper stuck to the windshield and steel panel above. At first look one might think it a random pattern splattered about the front of the bus, until upon closer examination, would recognize an outline perfectly matching the profile of Mrs. J amid the chaos. The mess was cleaned up daily in the early stages of this newly founded battle plan. Later, cleanup happened weekly.
The minutiae of schoolwork assigned by the various teachers of a spectrum of topics ranging from the drab to the quite interesting also kept me busy. The level to which my interest was piqued for each more dependent on the personality of said teachers rather than the substance of what they taught.
Then there was the personal pursuit of my path, life skills that could prove entertaining or useful to me or others on some level. I thought about this daily. I sought out sources of inspiration everywhere.
Sources of inspiration
It might be individuals I found intriguing, like Corey who would often work at his grandparents’ farm just up the road from us. I often volunteered to help him with tasks at the farm for opportunities to learn.
Ultimately this proved disappointing if not entertaining. His greatest accomplishments during his tutelage were limited to:
1. Shooting off the tip of his right index finger with a .22 rifle. Quite the accomplishment considering that there is virtually no way your fingertip should be placed over the end of the barrel while simultaneously pulling the trigger.
2. Cutting off his left pinky with a circular saw while removing boards from the walls of an old horse trailer. Technically it wasn’t cut off completely as there was still a small strip of skin which left it dangling down the outside of his palm. Being one of many generations of hardy farming stock, he decided to tend to the injury himself. In the end he was left with what was essentially a non-functioning stick of scar tissue. I often wondered how long it would be until that was the last remaining digit on either of his hands. Probably not long.
I decided I wanted to keep all my fingers in the right places functioning as they were supposed to and chose to look elsewhere for guidance.
The massive red-and-black ant mound across the road from our house held my attention for years. The skills I gleaned from countless attempts to destroy that thriving colony, with a population to rival even the largest cities of China, could have led to a career in military explosives, chemistry or engineering.
Sources of enlightenment were as varied as anything else. One of these came from what might seem a likely source, a teacher, but what I took from him was anything but expected.
Mr. May and Middle School Spanish Class
In middle school we were required to take a foreign language course, the options that were available in our tiny community were limited to two, French or Spanish. Considering the remoteness and lack of anything French in our little hovel surrounded by the grand Rocky Mountains, I was surprised we even knew of the existence of a language called “French”. Thinking that my opportunities to use one of these in any practical manner were greater going the Spanish route, and I fancying myself a very practical individual, this is what I chose.
On the first day of class, like every class in the school, we were issued textbooks, most of which were recycled through generations of students before us. It was always my stance that if I couldn’t get a new book then hopefully one of the previous students graced with my book was a smart student that took good notes and highlighted all the right passages to help me pass even the most difficult of exams in that class.
As I was handed the pumpkin orange talisman that would be my guide for the next year of Spanish lessons, the cover emblazoned with a golden token carved with exotic markings, I was thrice disappointed. First, it was not a new book. Second, the previous students were certainly not star pupils in Spanish class. And third, one particularly motivated and inspired individual had decided to fill every free space in the book with progressively more lifelike drawings of male parts. It was clear that at the start of their Spanish class they were a novice just dipping their toes into the world of the art they wanted to create. By the end of the school year they had mastered their craft, the creations they made rivaling anything Michaelangelo himself could have imagined.
In case you are wondering. No, this clipart I was forced to critique daily was not the source of a new skill I chose to learn about, although in hindsight it may have led to some personal insecurities. Neither was it the Spanish language itself that was being taught to us in those hallowed halls. It was something else.
Mr. May, master of Spanish, and generally just a positive happy man was one of the more interesting teachers I was blessed to interact with. The energy and exuberance he displayed in those classes was inspirational and lent me a greater willingness to pay attention in his class.
Sadly, I retain very little of the material that Mr. May hoped to convey to our developing minds. My Spanish skills to this day are limited to:
“Dos Coca Colas por favor.” and “Yo quiero una cita con una muchacha.”
The inspirational moment in his class happened for the first time in the initial week of lessons. Mr. May was explaining some grammatical concept about the complicated world of Spanish verb conjugations. A student asked a question during a pause in the lesson. The question that was asked, even the student that asked it are long lost in the pink folds of memory storing tissue in my brain. But the five words that came out of Mr. May’s mouth after that question rang out like a siren’s song pulling me in with a power I could not explain.
The five words were “That don’t diff any makerence.”
They were said so swiftly and naturally that I was sure I misheard. A few days later he said them again. I raised my hand at that point and asked.
“Excuse me Mr. May, what was that you just said?”
“I was just explaining the difference between ‘nosotros’ and ‘vosotros’…”
“No, just before that you said five words, something to the likes of ‘that don’t make any difference.’”
“Oh, that don’t diff any makerence, this is just something I say.”
I was stunned and completely consumed by this short phrase. It was brilliant. You could take words in English, common everyday words and by switching the initial sounds you had a new word yet not a new word. You had what was potentially a secret word based on a system that was familiar.
I was so fascinated by this concept I began developing a broader system based on this simple five secret-word sentence. I practiced every spare moment I could find during my busy task-heavy days.
“My name is Scrawny.” became “Scry mame ns Iawny.”
“I have red hair” was changed to “H iave hed rair.”
I even took this down to individual words such as “insurance” transformed to “rniusance” taking the first letter of each syllable and moving it back one place. (I am currently sitting in a great pizza place in Bangkok and the word “insurance” is on a sign across the road hence the example.)
I practiced this method religiously, pursued it with a strange otherworldly dedication. Once I achieved a decent ability with it, I decided it was time to teach it to those close to me. I thought this had the potential be a brilliant breakthrough secret language that could be used to discuss anything from cute girls to devious plans I desired to execute during lunch time.
Sadly, this concept required a bit more work than most of my friends were willing to spend. So, I went back to the drawing board so to say. Rather than swapping initial sounds, I tried saying words backwards. This required no changes in placement of letters, it just required one to read, like we all knew how to do, but in reverse.
This like the previous “sound swap” language never gained ground with those close to me. But I have honed this ability to a fine tool. This useless talent of mine has served as a source of entertainment for many people in many places around the world. My active practicing of it has likely led many a stranger in my midst to observe me as if talking to myself and wonder if I forgot to take some medication earlier in the day.
A somewhat usable secret cipher did eventually come into my world. The basic principles of it were taught to me by students from the dreadful Rocky Mountain School district. The language was known as “Ibish”.
At the time, I assumed these were just additional useless talents that somehow seemed to find their way into my portfolio. What I wanted ultimately not culminating, and only revealing, some years later, the need of these skills in my lifelong obsession to learn all I could about a real language, the Chinese language.
這是一個全世界成年人中經常反芻的主題。真實世界。成年人的生活與青年時期愉快，無憂無慮的時光完全不同。成年後，一個人有義務和責任。我仍然偶爾會時不時地思考這個問題，並且確信某些層面上對這概念有一定的可信度，但是認爲童年是一個人一生中完全無憂無慮的時光的想法是荒唐的。
對我來説，中學的那些年充滿了需要做的事情
顯然，J太太和我的東征西討。這無疑佔用我很大部分時間。一般的日常攻擊已經廣大到不僅包括橡皮筋，還包括痰球。
對於我沒有經驗的朋友，讓我解釋一下這是什麽。它的簡單性和有效性非常天才。所需工具：一根吸管，一張空白筆記本紙 (我以前用過寫滿的紙，墨水的味道不是很好，過量使用可能有毒。) 和大量的唾液。首先從紙張撕下一條1釐米 x 2 釐米的小條。將其放入口中，用唾液徹底浸泡。用舌尖把它捲成一個小球。用一隻手固定吸管，將一端放入口中。用舌頭將濕紙球插入吸管中。 然後將吸管指向你的預定目標，深吸一口氣，將紙球穿過吸管吹向所述目標。簡單。有效。還有，並不奇怪，對於年事已高的人來説仍然很有趣。
這在12路校車上很常見，擋風玻璃和上方的鋼板上貼著一排邋遢的紙團。乍一看，人們可能會認爲這是一個隨機的圖案，但仔細檢查後，在混亂中，會認出一個與J夫人完全匹配的輪廓。在這個新制定作戰計劃的早期階段，每天都會清理乾净。後來，每周進行一次清理。
也有各個老師細節佈置的功課，主題範圍從單調到非常有趣也讓我忙得不可開交。我的興趣激起的程度，更多地取決於上述老師的個性，而不是他們所教的實質内容。
然後是我個人對我的道路的追求，生活技能可以在莫種程度上證明對我或其他人來説是有趣的或有用的。我每天都在想這個問題。 我到處尋找靈感來源。
靈感來源
可能是我發現有趣的人，就像科里一樣，他經常在離我們不遠的祖父母的農場工作。我經常自願幫他在農場做任務，以獲得學習的機會。
最終，這個經驗令人失望的，但很有娛樂性的。在他指導期間的兩個最大成就僅限於：
- 用。.22 口徑步槍射掉他右手食指尖。考慮到，在扣動扳機的同時，你的指尖幾乎不可能放在槍管末端，這是一項相當難做到的大的成就。
- 從舊馬拖車的墻壁上取下模板時用圓鋸切掉他的左小指。從技術上講，它並沒有完全切斷，因爲還有一小塊皮膚讓它垂落在他手掌外側。作爲許多代耐勞農畜之一，他決定自己照顧受傷。最後，他留下了基本上是一根不起作用的疤痕組織棒。我常常想，要過多久，他兩隻手上最後剩下的指頭就是那一根。大概用不了多久。
我決定了要讓所有手指都保持在正確的位置和原來應該的運作，並選擇在其他地方尋求指導。
我們家馬路對面那個巨大相間半紅半黑螞蟻的螞蟻丘多年來一直吸引著我的注意力。我從無數次嘗試摧毀這大群螞蟻（螞蟻數量甚至可以與中國最大的城市人口相媲美）學到的的技能可能導致從事軍用炸藥，化學或工程方面的職業。
啟蒙的來源和其他任何東西一樣多種多樣。其中一個來自一個看似可能的來源，以爲老師，但我從他那得到的知識出乎意料。
梅先生和中學西班牙語班
在中學時，我們必須參加一門外語課程，在我們這個小社區中選擇不多，甚至僅限於兩個：西班牙語或法語。考慮到我們那個小鎮，周圍環繞著宏偉的落基山脈，缺乏任何法國的東西，其實説實話，我很驚訝我們知道有一種叫做“法語”的語言。我認爲自己是有個非常實際的人，而考慮到有機會以任何的方式實際使用其中之一，走西班牙語路綫的機會更大。所以我選了西班牙語。
在上課的第一天，就像每一門課程一樣，我們得到了教科書，其中大部分在我們之前的幾代學生中迴圈使用。我一直認爲，如果我拿不到一本新書，那麽希望以前使用過同一本書的學生之一是一個聰明的學生而在書上做過很多筆記並突出顯示了所有正確的段落，以説明我通過那堂課上最難的考試。
當我拿到南瓜橙的課本時，封面上印有一枚刻有異國情調標記的金色令牌，我失望了三次。首先，這不是一本新書。其次，以前的學生肯定不是西班牙文課上的明星學生。第三，一個特別有動力和靈感的學生決定用越來越逼真男性部位圖書來填充書的每一個空位。很明顯，他們在西班牙語的課程開始時，他們只是 一個新手，只是涉足他們想要創造的藝術世界。到學年結束時，他們已經掌握了自己的手藝，他們創造的作品可以與米開朗基羅本人所能想象的任何東西相媲美。
如果你在想。不，我被迫每天評論的這些圖畫並不是我選擇學習的新技能的來源。儘管事後看來，這可能導致了一些個人不安全感。在那些神聖的大廳裏教給我的也不是西班牙文本身。教給我的是另一回事。
梅先生，西班牙語大師，總的來説是一個積極快樂的人，是我有幸與之互動的更有趣的老師之一。他在那些課上表現出的活力是鼓舞人心的，讓我願意在他的課堂上集中注意力。
可悲的是，我所保留的梅先生希望傳達給我們發展中的思想材料很少。直到今天，我西班牙語技能僅限於：
“Dos coca colas por favor.” (請來兩瓶可口可樂。)
和”Yo quiero una cita con una muchacha.” （我想要與美女約會。）
他課堂上的鼓舞人心的 時刻第一次發生在課程的第一周。梅先生正在解釋一些關於西班牙語動詞變位的複雜語法概念。一位學生在課程的停頓中提出了一個問題。問到的問題，甚至是提出問題的學生，早已消失在我大腦儲存組織的記憶的粉紅色褶皺中。 但是，在提出這個問題之後，從梅先生嘴裏説出來的五個字，就像希臘神話中女海妖之歌一樣響起，用一種我無法解釋的力量把我拉進來。
這五個字是”That don’t diff any makerence”
這些話説得如此迅速和自然，以至於我確信我聽錯了。幾天後，他又説了一遍。這時我舉起手問道。
“對不起，梅先生，你剛才説了什麽？”
“我只是在解釋 ‘nosotros’ 與 ‘vosotros’ 之間的區別…”
“不，就在那之前你説了五個字，像 ‘that don’t make any difference’”.
“哦，’that don’t diff any makerence’ 這只是一句我常説的話“。
我驚呆了，完全被這短短的話吞噬了。太棒了！我可以用常見的日常用語，通過切換初始發音，就有一個新單詞，但也沒有一個新單詞。就有一個可能是秘密的詞，基於一個熟悉的系統。
我對這個概念非常著謎，我開始根據這個簡單五個秘密詞句子開發一個更廣汎的系統。在我緊忙任務的日子裏，任何能找到一點空的時間就聯係了。
“My name is Scrawny.” 變成了 “Scry mame ns Iawny.”
“I have red hair.” 換成 “H iave hed rair.”
我甚至也把這個方式適用於個別詞，例如 “insurance” 轉換為 “rniusance” 取每個音節的第一個字母，並將其移回一個地方。(我目前在曼谷的一家很棒的披薩店裏，”insurance”這個詞出現在馬路對面的標誌上，因此就是這個例子。)
我虔誠地實踐這種方式，以一種奇怪的超凡脫俗的奉獻精神追求它。一旦我達到了不錯的能力，我就決定是時候把它教給我身邊的人了。我認爲這有可能成爲一種出色突破性秘密語言，可以用來討論任何事情，從可愛的女孩到我想在午餐時間執行的狡猾計劃。
可悲的是，這個概念需要比我大多數朋友願意花的精神多一點。所以，我回到了繪圖板。我沒有再換音節的初始聲音， 而是嘗試倒著說單詞。這樣不需要改變字母的位置，它只需要一個人閲讀，就像我們都知道怎麽做的一樣，但要反過來。
就像以前”聲音交換”語言一樣，這種語言從未在我身邊的人中得到普及。但我已經把這種能力磨煉成了一個好工具。我的這個無用的才能為世界上許多地方的很多人提供了娛樂的來源。我積極練習它可能會導致我周邊許多陌生人觀察我，好像自言自語，並想知道我是否忘了在當天早上吃藥。
不久後，一個稍微有用的秘密語言最終出現了。它的基本原理是由可怕的落基山學區的學生教給我的。 這種語言被稱爲”Ibish”。
當時我以爲這些只是我多纍積的無用才能。我想要的東西最終沒有達到了，幾年後，我才揭示了這些技能對於我一生都癡迷學習一門真正的語言的重要性，是什麽語言：中文。