Competition

On my Facebook page, a few friends have commented on my efforts in Thai class. Pipe (who misspells Thai all the time, even though he’s Thai) and Mazlina (who’s studying Arabic this summer—her 4th or 5th language) have been nice, but Mickey called me a competitive old fart.

Maybe that’s true. In theory I'm against competition in learning, but growing up in the States it was deeply engraved into my brain. However, I think competition runs even deeper in Korean culture.

I went out to dinner with a Korean friend, and he explained a few things.

“These two Korean women in your Thai class,” he asked, “are they in their early 30s?”

“Yes,” I replied, “one is about 30, the other about 35.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “no boyfriends or husbands?”

“True,” I confirmed.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “do they talk about church a lot?”

“Yes,” I said, “and they read the Bible, too.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “they’re missionaries. They are given one year in Thailand to become fluent in Thai. At the end of the year, they take a test, a very hard test. If they fail, they go back to Korea as failures. If they pass, they go to rural Thailand and convert people to Christianity. That’s why you cannot beat them—for you this is a hobby, but for them, it is their life.”

There was a pause, then he continued:

“So there is no way you can beat them. NO WAY!”

That was Friday night. On Saturday, I spent ten hours studying Thai.