Unit 2 The Power of Words新编大学英语第二版第四册课文翻译

Unit 2 The Power of Words

The Power of a Note

On my first job as sports editor for the Montpelier (Ohio) Leader Enterprise, I didn't get a lot of fan mail, so I was intrigued by a letter that was dropped on my desk one morning.

When I opened it, I read: "A nice piece of writing on the Tigers. Keep up the good work." It was signed by Don Wolfe, the sports editor. Because I was a teenager (being paid the grand total of 15 cents a column inch), his words couldn't have been more inspiring. 11 kept the letter in my desk drawer until it got rag-eared. Whenever I doubted I had the right stuff to be a writer, I would reread Don's note and feel confident again.

Later, when I got to know him, I learned that Don made a habit of writing a quick, encouraging word to people in all walks of life. "When I make others feel good about themselves," he told me, "I feel good too."

Not surprisingly, he had a body of friends as big as nearby Lake Erie. When he died last year at 75, the paper was flooded with calls and letters from people who had been recipients of his spirit-lifting words.

Over the years, I've tried to copy the example of Don and other friends who care enough to write uplifting comments, because I think they are on to something important. In a world too often cold and unresponsive, such notes bring warmth and reassurance. We all need a boost from time to time, and a few lines of praise have been known to turn around a day, even a life.

Why, then, are there so few upbeat note writers? My guess is that many who shy away from the practice are too self-conscious. They're afraid they'll be misunderstood, sound sentimental or insincere. Also, writing takes time; it's far easier to pick up the phone.

The drawback with phone calls, of course, is that they don't last. A note attaches more importance to our well-wishing. It is a matter of record, and our words can be read more than once, savored and treasured.

Even though note writing may take longer, some pretty busy people do it, including George Bush. Some say he owes much of his success in politics to his ever-ready pen. How? Throughout his career he has followed up virtually every contact with a cordial response—a compliment, a line of praise or a nod of thanks. His notes go not only to friends and associates, but to casual acquaintances and total strangers—like the surprised person who got a warm pat on the back for lending Bush an umbrella.

Even top corporate managers, who have mostly affected styles of leadership that can be characterized only as tough, cold and aloof, have begun to learn the lesson, and earn the benefits, of writing notes that lift people up. Former Ford chairman Donald Peterson, who is largely credited for turning the company round in the 1980s, made it a practice to write positive messages to associates every day. "I'd just scribble them on a memo pad or the corner of a letter and pass them along," he says. "The most important ten minutes of your day are those you spend doing something to boost the people who work for you.

"Too often," he observed, "people we genuinely like have no idea how we feel about them. Too often we think, I haven't said anything critical; why do I have to say something positive? We forget that human beings need positive reinforcement—in fact, we thrive on it!"

What does it take to write letters that lift spirits and warm hearts? Only a willingness to express our appreciation. The most successful practitioners include what I call the four "S's" of note writing.

1) They are sincere. No one wants false praise.

2) They are usually short. If you can't say what you want to say in three sentences, you're probably straining

3) They are specific. Complimenting a business colleague by telling him "good speech" is too vague; "great story about Warren Buffet's investment strategy" is precise.

4) They are spontaneous. This gives them the freshness and enthusiasm that will linger in the reader's mind long afterward.

It's difficult to be spontaneous when you have to hunt for letter-writing materials, so I keep paper, envelopes and stamps close at hand, even when I travel. Fancy stationery isn't necessary; it's the thought that counts.

So, who around you deserves a note of thanks or approval? A neighbor, your librarian, a relative, your mayor, your mate, a teacher, your doctor? You don't need to be poetic. If you need a reason, look for a milestone, the anniversary of a special event you shared, or a birthday or holiday. For the last 25 years, for example, I've prepared an annual Christmas letter for long-distance friends, and I often add a handwritten word of thanks or congratulations. Acknowledging some success or good fortune that has happened during the year seems particularly appropriate considering the spirit of the Christmas season.

Be generous with your praise. Superlatives like "greatest," "smartest," "prettiest" make us all feel good. Even if your praise is a little ahead of reality, remember that expectations are often the parents of dreams fulfilled.

Today I got a warm, complimentary letter from my old boss and mentor, Norman Vincent Peale. His little note to me was full of uplifting phrases, and it sent me to my typewriter to compose a few overdue letters of my own. I don't know if they will make anybody else's day, but they made mine. As my friend Don Wolfe said, making others feel good about themselves makes me feel good too.

便笺的力量

1 我当体育编辑，最早是为蒙比利埃（俄亥俄州）的《企业导报》工作，当时我很少收到体育迷的来信。因此，一天早晨放在我桌上的一封来信把我吸引住了。

2 打开来信，我看到了下面的话：“关于老虎队的述评很不错，再接再厉。”签名的是体育编辑堂?沃尔夫。当时我只是一个十几岁的小伙子（为每一竖栏写一英寸文字，稿酬总计达15美分），因此他的话最鼓舞人心了。我把这封信一直放在书桌的抽屉里，后来它的边角都卷起来了。每当我怀疑自己不是当作家的料时，重温一下堂的便笺，就又会树起信心来。

3 后来，我逐渐对堂有所了解，知道给各行各业的人写快捷而鼓舞人心的便笺是他养成的习惯。他告诉我说：“当我使别人充满信心时，我也感觉好极了。”

4 因此毫不奇怪，他的朋友圈子就像附近的伊利湖那么大。去年他去世了，享年75岁。电话与悼函像潮水般涌向报社，都来自于曾经得到过他激励（文字）的人们。

5 多年来，我努力效仿堂以及我的其他朋友，他们关心别人，常写一些鼓舞人心的话语，因为我觉得，他们这样做是很有意义的。在这样一个惯于冷漠、无动于衷的世界上，这种便笺给人们带来了温暖和安慰。我们都时不时地需要鼓励，大家知道几行赞扬的话会改变一个人的一天，甚至一生。

6 那么，这些激励人心的便笺的作者为什么寥若晨星呢？我猜想很多人回避写，是因为他们太看重人们的看法。他们担心会被误解，怕别人觉得他们自作多情或者言不由衷。还有，写也要花时间，远不如打电话方便。

7 当然打电话的缺点是：说过的话留不住。而一张便笺使我们的良好意愿显得更加珍贵。便笺是白纸黑字记录在案的东西，而且我们写下的字可以反复阅读，细细品味并珍藏起来。

8 尽管写便笺会多花一些时间，但一些非常忙的人也在这么做，其中包括乔治?布什。有人说，他政治上的成功在很大程度上归功于他那枝随时准备写字的笔。这是怎么回事呢？在他整个职业生涯中，每次与人们接触之后，他几乎都随后写封信，内容亲切——一句赞美之辞，一行表扬的话，或一段感谢语。他不仅写给朋友和同事，还写给萍水相逢的人以及完全陌生的人——比如那位借伞给他的人，后来收到他热情的赞扬信，感到很惊讶。

9 那些通常做作的公司高层经理们，其领导作风只能被形容为强硬、冷漠、脱离群众。甚至这些人也开始学习写便笺去鼓舞人心，且从中获益匪浅。唐纳德?彼得森，福特公司的前主席，把每天写便笺鼓励同事当作一件日常工作。该公司在80年代时走出低谷取得成功主要是他的功劳。“我只不过匆匆地在备忘录或信的角上写一些鼓舞人心的话，然后传递出

去，”他说道。“每天最重要的一段时间，就是鼓舞那些为你工作的人的那10分钟。”

10 “太多的时候，”他发表自己的看法说，“那些我们真正喜欢的人并不知道我们是怎么看待他们的。太多的时候，我们会以为，我并没有说过什么批评的话，为什么非得去说好话呢？我们忘了，人类需要正面的肯定或鼓励——事实上，我们靠这个取得进步，获得成功！”

11 怎样才能写出振奋精神、温暖人心的信呢？只要我们怀有要表示感激之情的心愿。写这种便笺的高手都具有我所谓的“４S”技巧。

12 １）真诚(sincere)。没人要听虚假的赞美。

13 ２）简短(short)。如果不能用三句话表达出你的意思，你很可能过火了，写得太长。

14 ３）具体(specific)。赞扬一位业务伙伴“演讲精彩”太笼统含糊；告诉他“关于沃伦?巴菲特的投资策略讲得很精彩”才是一语中的。

15 ４）自然(spontaneous)。这使得便笺充满了生气，洋溢着热情，并使读者的心灵长久地感受这种生气和热情。

16 当你非得到处找写信用品时，写出来的东西就难以自然，因此我总是把纸、信封和邮票放在手边，甚至在旅行时也是如此。信封信笺不需要很花哨，重要的是要表达的思想。

17 那么，你周围又有谁值得你写便笺表示感谢或鼓励呢？一位邻居？为你服务的那位图书馆管理员？一位亲戚？你的市长？你的伙伴？一位教师？你的医生？你不必富有诗意。如果你需要一个写的理由，就找一个生活中的重要事件，例如你们共同参加的某个特殊事件的周年纪念日、生日或者节日。例如，过去的25年里，我总是为远方的朋友每年准备一张圣诞卡，而且常常在上面亲笔写上一句感谢或祝贺的话。鉴于圣诞节的氛围，就一年来所取得的成功与得到的好运特意表示谢忱似乎是最恰到好处的。

18 不要吝啬你的赞美之言。像“最了不起的”、“最聪明的”、“最漂亮的”这种最高级的表达法——使大家都感到高兴。即使你的赞美之词稍稍超前了一点也没关系，记住，梦想的实现往往孕育于期望之中。

19 今天，我收到了以前的老板和精神导师诺曼?文森特?皮尔的一封温暖的赞扬信。这张小小的便笺上满是鼓舞人心的词句，这促使我坐到了打字机前来完成几封我早就该写的信。我不知道这些信会不会使别人的一天别有意义，但是，对我自己确实如此。正如我的朋友堂?沃尔夫所说的：使别人充满信心，也就使我自己感觉很好。

All the Good Things

He was in the first third-grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, he had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.

Mark also talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving. "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened the drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room.

As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The entire class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister.

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the new math", he did not talk as much in the ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were growing frustrated with themselves—and edgy with one another. I had to change the mood of the class before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, but as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Some of them ran two pages. Before long, the entire class was

smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents. But it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from a vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked the usual questions about the trip, the weather, my experiences in general. There was a slight lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before saying something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began.

"Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them for several years. I wonder how Mark is.

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you could talk to me.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocket-book, took out her wallet and showed her worn and ragged list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without hesitation. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

美言尽在其中

1我当时在明尼苏达州莫里斯市的圣玛丽学校任教，马克·埃克隆是我教的三年级一班的学生。全班34个学生都和我很亲密，但马克确是百里挑一。他衣冠整洁，一副乐天派的样子，即便偶尔调皮一下，也显得那么可爱。

2马克上课时还会说个不停。我只得一次次提醒他，未经允许讲话是不可以的。然而，每次我不得不纠正他的捣乱行为时，他的反应总是那么真诚，这给我留下了深刻的印象。“谢谢您纠正我的行为，好老师!”起初我不明白他的话到底什么意思，可是不久我就习惯了，每天都听他这么说好多遍。

3一天上午，当马克又在不停地说话时，我没了耐心，而且犯了一个见习教师常犯的错误。我看着马克说道：“如果你再说一个字，我就用胶带把你的嘴封住!”

4不到十秒钟就听见查克突然嚷起来：“马克又说话了。”我并没有让任何学生帮我看着马克，可是既然我已经在全班面前讲了我的惩罚办法，就要说到做到。

5我还记得那时的情景，就好像是今天上午才发生的。我当时走到自己的桌前，不慌不忙地拉开抽屉，拿出一卷遮蔽胶带，接着一言不发地走到马克桌前，撕下两条胶带，在他的嘴上贴成一个大大的叉。然后我又回到教室的前面。

6当我瞥了马克一眼想看看他的反应时，他对我眨了眨眼。他得逞了!我笑了起来。我回到马克的桌旁，撕掉了贴在他嘴上的胶带，无可奈何地耸了耸肩，这时全班都欢呼起来。撕掉胶带后他说的第一句话是：“谢谢您纠正我的行为，好老师。”

7那年年底的时候我被安排去教初中数学。时光飞逝，不知不觉中马克又坐在了我的教室里。他比过去更英俊了，而且还是那么彬彬有礼。因为不得不仔细听我讲解“新数学”，九年级的马克不再像在三年级时那么爱讲话了。

8有个星期五，情况使人感到有点不对头。整整一周我们都在学习一个新概念。我感觉到学生们开始泄气了，而且彼此之间变得急躁易怒。我得改变一下班级的气氛以免情况失控。于是我让他们把班上其他同学的名字列在两张纸上，在名字之间留出些空间。然后我让他们想出有关每个同学的最好的评价，并把它写下来。

9那堂课剩下的时间全花在了完成这项工作上。但是当学生们离开教室的时候，每人都把他们写好的两张纸递给我。查克面带微笑。马克对我说：“谢谢您教我，好老师。祝您周末愉快。”

10那个星期六，我把每个学生的名字分别写在一张纸上，然后把其他人说的关于那个人的话都一一列在上面。星期一，我把这些纸发给每个学生自己。有的有两页之多。没多久，全班都在微笑。“真的吗?”我听见有人轻声说。“我从没想到会有人看重那件事。”“我没想到别人会这么喜欢我!”

ll没有人在班上再提起那些纸。我也不知道他们是否在课后或与他们的父母谈论过那些(列在纸上的)事，可是那并不重要。这次活动已经达到了它的目的。学生们又感到快乐了，相

互之间又愉快相处了。

12那一拨学生接着该去哪儿去哪儿了。几年后，我度假回来，父母到机场接我。开车回家的路上，母亲问了些关于旅行的事，都是老一套：天气怎么样以及大体的旅行经历。然后谈话中有点儿冷场。母亲瞟了父亲一眼，简捷地说：“她爸?”于是父亲清了清喉咙，就像通常他要说些重要的事情之前做的那样。“埃克隆夫妇昨晚打电话来了，”他开始说道。

13“真的?”我说。“我已经好几年没和他们联系了，不知道马克怎么样了。”

14爸爸平静地回答我。“马克死在越南了，”他说。“明天举行葬礼。他父母希望你能参加。”直到今天我还清清楚楚地记得父亲是在494号州际公路的哪个地方告诉我马克的事的。

15我以前从没见过躺在军用棺材里的军人。马克看上去是那么英俊，那么成熟。那一时刻，我的脑海里只有这么一句话：马克，只要你能和我说句话，我愿意付出一切。

16葬礼过后，马克的大多数同学到查克的农舍去吃午饭。马克的父母在那儿，他们显然在等我。“我们想给你看样东西，”马克的爸爸边说边从口袋里拿出一个皮夹。“这是马克牺牲后他们在他身上发现的。我们想你也许能认得这个。”

17他把皮夹打开，小心翼翼地拿出两张破旧的笔记本纸。很明显，那纸已经用胶带粘贴，反反复复地折叠过。我不用看就知道是什么纸，我在那上面列出了每个同学说过的马克的优点。“真是感谢你做了这样的事，”马克的妈妈说。“你能看得出，马克很珍视它。”

18马克的同学纷纷围住了我们。查理十分腼腆地笑着说：“我还留着我的那份呢。放在我家书桌最顶层的抽屉里。”查克的妻子说：“查克让我把他的那份放在我们的结婚像册里。”“我那份也留着呢，”玛里琳说。“夹在我的日记里。”另一个同学维姬伸手到她的皮包里，拿出了她的皮夹，把她那张破旧不堪的纸给大家看。“我一直把它带在身上，”维姬毫不犹豫地说。“我想我们都留着自己的这些(优点)单子。”

19就在那个时候，我终于坐下来，哭了，为马克，也为所有永远不能再见到他的那些朋友而流泪。’

Mother Tongue

I am a writer. And by that definition, I am someone who has always loved language. I am fascinated by language in daily life. I spend a great deal of my time thinking about the power of language—the way it can evoke an emotion, a visual image, a complex idea, or a simple truth. Language is the tool of my trade. And I use them all—all the Englishes I grew up with.

Recently, I was made keenly aware of the different Englishes I do use. I was giving a talk to a large group of people, the same talk I had already given to half a dozen other groups. The nature of the talk was about my writing, my life, and my book, The Joy Luck Club. The talk was going along well enough until I remembered one major difference that

made the whole talk sound wrong. My mother was in the room. And it was perhaps the first time she had heard me give a lengthy speech, using the kind of English I have never used with her—a speech filled with carefully constructed grammatical phrases, burdened, it suddenly seemed to me, with nominalized forms, past perfect tenses, conditional phrases, all the forms of standard English that I had learned in school and through books, the forms of English I did not use at home with my mother.

Just last week, I was walking down the street with my mother, and I again found myself conscious of the English I was using, the English I do use with her. We were talking about the price of new and used furniture and I heard myself saying this: "Not waste money that way." My husband was with us as well, and he didn't notice any switch in my English. And then I realized why. It's because over the twenty years that we have been together I've often used the same kind of English with him, and sometimes he even uses it with me. It has become our language of intimacy, a different sort of English that relates to family talk, the language I grew up with.

You should know that my mother's expressive command of English doesn't reflect how much she actually understands. She reads financial reports, listens to Wall Street Week (a TV financial news program), converses daily with her stockbroker, and reads many types of books with ease. Yet some of my friends tell me they understand only 50 percent of what my mother says. Some say they understand 80 to 90 percent. Some say they understand none of it, as if she were speaking pure Chinese. But to me, my mother's English is perfectly clear, perfectly natural. It's my mother tongue. Her language, as I hear it, is vivid, direct, full of observation and imagery. That was the language that helped shape the way I saw things, expressed things, made sense of the world.

Lately, I've been giving more thought to the kind of English my mother speaks. Like others, I have described it to other people as "broken" English. But I shrink with pain when I say that. It always bothered me that I can think of no way to describe it other than "broken", as if it were damaged and needed to be fixed, as if it lacked certain wholeness and soundness. I've heard other terms used, "limited English", for example. But they seem just as bad, as if everything is limited, including people's perceptions of the "limited" English speaker.

I know this for a fact, because when I was growing up, my mother's "limited" English limited my perception of her. I was ashamed of her English. I believed that her English reflected the quality of what she had to say. That is, because she expressed them imperfectly her thoughts were imperfect. And I had plenty of empirical evidence to support me: the fact that people in department stores, at banks, and at restaurants did

not take her seriously, did not give her good service, pretended not to understand her, or even acted as if they did not hear her.

My mother has long realized the limitations of her English as well. When I was fifteen, she used to ask me to call people on the phone to pretend I was she. In this guise, I was forced to ask for information or even complain and yell at people who had been rude to her. One time it was a call to her stockbroker in New York. She had cashed out her small stock portfolio and it just so happened we were going to go to New York the next week, our very first trip outside California. I had to get on the phone and say in an adolescent voice that was not very convincing, "This is Mrs Tan."

And my mother was standing in the back whispering, "Why he don't send me check, already two weeks late. So mad he lie to me, losing me money.

And then I said in perfect English, "Yes, I'm getting rather concerned. You had agreed to send the check two weeks ago, but it hasn't arrived."

Then she began to talk more loudly, "What he want, I come to New York tell him front of his boss, you cheating me?" And I was trying to calm her down, make her be quiet, while telling the stockbroker, "I can't tolerate any more excuses. If I don't receive the check immediately, I am going to speak to your manager when I'm in New York next week."

Why are there not more Asian Americans represented in American literature? Why are there so few Asian Americans enrolled in creative writing programs? Why do so many Chinese students go into engineering? Well, these are broad sociological questions I can't begin to answer. But I have noticed in surveys that Asian students, as a whole, always do significantly better on math achievement tests than in English. And this makes me think that there are other Asian-American students whose English spoken in the home might also be described as "broken" or "limited". And perhaps they also have teachers who are steering them away from writing and into math and science, which is what happened to me. Fortunately, I happen to be rebellious in nature and enjoy the challenge of disproving assumptions made about me. I became an English major my first year in college, after being enrolled as pre-med.

母语

l我是个作家。顾名思义，我是那种一直喜爱语言的人。我对日常生活中的语言着迷。我用大量的时间来思考语言的力量——它是如何唤起情感、描绘视觉图像、阐述复杂的观点或者展示简单的事实的。语言是我的谋生工具。我使用所有的英语——在我成长过程中接触过的各种英语。

2最近，(有件事)使我强烈地意识到我确实在使用各种各样的英语。当时，我正在给一大群人演说，该演说我已给其他听众作过六次。演说的中心内容是关于我的创作、我的生活、以及我的书((喜福会》。演说进行得很顺利，直到我想起了这次演说与以往的演说有一个极大的不同，这使得整个演说听起来不对劲。我母亲在演说厅里。这也许是她第一次听我长篇大论，用的是我从未在她面前用过的那种英语——演讲中满是精心构造的、合乎语法的词组，大量名词化结构，过去完成时，条件短语(这些我似乎是突然发现的)。所有这些我在学校和书本中学到的标准语言结构，都不是我在家里和母亲交谈时使用的英语形式。

3就在上个星期，我和我母亲一起走在街上，我发现自己又一次注意到了我所用的英语，也就是我和母亲交谈时所说的英语。我们当时正在谈论新旧家具的价格，我听见自己在说：“不那样浪费钱。(Not waste money that way．)”我丈夫也和我们在一起，他并没有注意到我英语的变化。随即我就想到了这是为什么。这是因为在我们朝夕相处的20年里，我经常在他面前说这种英语，有时候甚至他也用这种英语和我交谈。这已经成了我们的私人语言，一种只和家人交谈时使用的特殊英语，一种伴随我成长的语言。

4要知道，我母亲的英语表达能力并不能反映她实际上对英语的理解能力。她看财务报告，听“华尔街周”(一个有关金融新闻的电视节目)，每天和她的股票经纪人谈话，而且能轻松地阅读多种书籍。可是我有些朋友跟我说他们只能听懂我母亲50％的话。有些说他们能懂80％到90％。有些说他们一点儿也听不懂，就好像她讲的是纯粹的中文。但是对我而言，我母亲的英语是再清楚、再自然不过的了。这是我的母语。在我听来，她的语言生动、直接，富有洞察力和意象。就是这样的语言帮助我形成了我看问题、表达思想、认识世界的方式。5最近，我对于我母亲说的那种英语思考得更多了。跟其他人一样，在他人面前，我一直把它称作“蹩脚”英语。可是每当我这么说的时候就会因痛苦而畏缩。让我一直不安的是，除了用“蹩脚”一词，我想不出别的方式来形容它，就好像母亲说的英语有缺陷，需要修补，就好像它缺乏某种整体性和完整性。我听说过其他的说法，例如，“有限的英语”。但是这样说听起来也一样不合适，就好像什么都是有限的，就连人们对于说“有限的英语”的人的认识也是有限的。

6我知道事情的确是这样，因为在我成长的过程中，我母亲“有限的”英语限制了我对她的了解。我曾为她说的英语而羞愧。我曾以为她的英语反映了她要说的话的质量。也就是说，因为她表达得不够完善，她的思想也不够完善。而且我有很多实证来支持我的观点：百货公司、银行和饭店里的工作人员不把她当回事，不为她提供优质的服务，假装听不懂她的话，或者甚至假装没听见她讲话。

7我母亲也早就意识到她说的英语不怎么样。当我15岁的时候，她老让我假装成她给人打电话。我不得不假借她的名义进行咨询，或者甚至是向那些曾对她无礼的家伙抱怨并大喊大叫。有一次是给她在纽约的股票经纪人打电话。她已把一小笔股票投资组合卖掉，而我们刚好要在下个星期到纽约去，那是我们第一次离开加利福尼亚。我只好拿起电话用难以令人相信的、少年的嗓音说：“我是谭夫人。”

8我母亲就站在我身后悄声说：“为什么他不寄我支票，已经两个星期晚了。很生气他对我撒谎，损失了我的钱。”

9然后我用标准的英语说：“是的，我对此非常担忧。两个星期之前你就答应把支票寄过来，但是支票仍未寄到。”

10然后母亲的嗓门开始加大：“他想要什么，我到纽约来，当他老板的面说，你欺骗我?”我一边尽力使她平静下来，让她小点声，并同时告诉那个股票经纪人：“我无法再容忍任何借口。如果我没有立刻收到支票，我将在下个星期到纽约的时候和你的经理面谈。”

ll为什么在美国文学中没有更多的亚裔美国人涌现呢?为什么亚裔美国人学习创作性写作这一课程的人数会如此之少?为什么有如此之多的中国学生学习工科?这些都是我无法回答的广义上的社会学问题。但是从社会调查中我已经注意到，就整体而言，亚裔学生数学考试的成绩大大好于英语成绩。这使我想到或许还会有别的亚裔美国学生，他们在家里说的英语也可以被说成是“蹩脚的”或者“有限的”。也许也会有老师试图引导他们放弃写作，学习数学和理科，就如同我当年那样。幸好，我生性叛逆，乐于证明人们对我的看法是错误的，我喜欢这种挑战。在我被录取为医学预科生之后，我在大学的第一年就成了一名英语专业的学生。