Way back in junior high school, I had read an article which profiled the skill sets of students admitted into Ivy League universities, most notably Harvard and Yale. It was determined that a significant number of Ivy bound American kids had learned Mandarin, a language that was, as the article conveyed, reserved for only the smartest of youngsters, those shining stars who had been destined for academic elitism since birth. As I had perceived it, Mandarin- like Harvard or Yale- was definitely not in the cards for people like me.

But, truth be told, my preteen life was showing signs of hope. I’d moved up in the world, no longer confined to the “retard room” with a thick stack of gray tracing paper, a gum-slapping aide and a hydroencephalitic boy who drooled constantly. In fact, I’d been placed into a gifted program, where I was instead encouraged to dream up inventions, classify rocks, and attempt socializing with a few other “special” youngsters. I was also scribbling poems, reams of them, for in-class recitation. Still, I was a gangly, left-handed thumb-sucker and a behavioral nightmare from a broken, chaotic home in an isolated town. I was also attempting to compensate, in the worst ways possible, for a learning hurdle which was initially known as “she can’t write” and much later revealed to me as “a form of dyslexia.” No way would I ever go to college. No way would I learn Chinese.

In 2010, most of us hopefully know that those who are labeled learning-disabled or behaviorally challenged- whether it be autism, ADHD, dyslexia, OCD, etc.- aren’t necessarily “dummies” or “disabled” at all. In many cases, it’s just the opposite. For instance, one family relative of mine has Aspergers, and while he may not be able to hold down a good job or lengthy conversation at this point in his life (although I believe otherwise), he can take apart your entire computer and put it back together again with incredible speed. He is, by some measures, a genius. So, it is 2010, and we are evolved, aware human beings now, right? Back in the late 1980s, not so much.

High school, as the saying goes, was torture. By eleventh grade I was batting straight Fs, earned the most in-school suspensions in my class, and had already enjoyed a vacation at a boot camp for troubled youth. Things quickly went from bad to worse. By senior year, I’d been kicked out of my father’s house and was informed quite directly that I would likely not graduate with my class- or at all…
It took one random person to believe otherwise- a retired teacher who single-handedly pulled me toward that diploma- and my life began to turn around. Under his tutelage, I developed new systems of learning in the quiet of a library while being encouraged to focus less on my shortcomings and more on my strengths. Against the odds, I graduated with my high school class while living independent of my parents and working full-time. Still, college was definitely not happening. And Chinese? I’d probably have better luck digging a hole to Beijing.

As life would have it, I made it to college- albeit a few years later than some of my peers and not without bumps along the way- excelling across the board while working as a bartender and writing tutor in Manhattan. The irony. It was in college, at a public university, that I decided to give the “Ivy-league only” Mandarin Chinese a try- a language that had appealed to me as kaleidoscopic symphony, an opera of angles and lines. And, much like the poetry I had grown up reading and reciting, Mandarin felt instantly right. It calmed anxieties, fueled curiosity and, within my personal framework of learning, made perfect sense. Sure, Mandarin was very difficult for me- I’m still struggling to learn it. But, I could never say the same about French. French was impossible. Eventually, I made the move to China and then, to grad school. In Mandarin, as in poetry, I had finally found my own path through memory, cadence and tone. Through the rhythm of a character.

Much like other common learning disabilities, dyslexics are visual thinkers who have a unique relationship to sound and an ability to perceive using all of the senses. Right-brained people in general are known to be visual-spatial learners- unfortunately, they are also the ones who most frequently live with negative labels attached to their minds. It is also often said that dyslexics have great difficulty processing language. But, if you consider it another way, that assumption would have to depend solely on the context in which “language” is defined. For instance, if language is conveyed in rhythm and metaphor- like it is in Dickinson’s “Hope is a Thing of Feathers,”- a dyslexic or other learning-disabled person may come away with a very rich and uncommon understanding of the poem itself. I would also argue that the same applies with Chinese- a language revealed in a series of logographs, delivered like a poem or a song.

If it wasn’t for that retired high-school teacher who had encouraged the exploration of possibility instead of insisting that I be and do like everyone else, I probably never would have made it to college. Come to think of it, I probably wouldn’t have made it to thirty. And, if it wasn’t for gravitating toward two unlikely subjects- Mandarin and poetry- I certainly wouldn’t have continued on to China, to grad school and… at some point in the future… hopefully…a doctorate. I love learning now. Lately, I’ve been thinking about this narrative a lot- it is one that has managed to define my life before, now, and after. In doing so, I often find myself considering the kids out there today who, even in 2010, may find themselves living under names like “learning disabled” or “special” or “dumb” or “crazy” or “hopeless.” Where will they end up? Will they all be as fortunate as I have been?

It is more than apparent that we need to boost our Mandarin programs in this country. But, who are the BEST candidates to actually grasp the language and stick with it? Is it the so-called Ivy League-bound Einsteins hidden away at $40,000 a year prep schools? Or, the overachieving math whizzes in Sucktown, USA? Or, could it be the kid with Aspergers or dyslexia or autism- the kid who thinks in pictures and remembers in pitch? I don’t have the answer, nor could I find a single study examining the correlation between right-brained, so-called learning disabled individuals and their ability to comprehend Mandarin or at least, their ability to like studying it (the second point- to like Mandarin- is very important). What if we threw those kids a few Chinese characters instead of simplifying their options both in school and in life? What if we gave it a shot, the old college try? What if we’re confusing ineptitude with aptitude?

Who knows what’s possible?

__________________________________________
Update 2/2/10

There appears to be some promise to my tentative conclusion. Check out this study from 1971, “American Children with Reading Problems Can Easily Learn to Read English Represented by Chinese Characters”. It is, however, the only concrete research that I’ve been able to find so far. Dissertation, anyone?

Commentary Aspergers, autism, Chinese, dyslexia, high school, Language, learning, learning disability, Mandarin

After a month away from all forms of social media- and the internet, generally- I’m finally crawling back into the game with a changed perspective and a better handle on time management. Prior to this hiatus, I was clocking approximately thirty hours a week composing blog entries, posting news items on Twitter, leaving messages on Facebook, chatting internationally over Skype, discussing events on LinkedIn and reading the news online. While there is an inherent satisfaction in being able to engage with a global community over the web, other important aspects of my life began to fall by the wayside. All the hours that I’d once spent creatively had been plugged into the web and inevitably, I found myself depleted by it. In short, the left side of my brain was beginning to overtake the right side and I didn’t entirely welcome the shift. So, while blogging brought me a tremendous amount of joy and social networks introduced me to some very compelling individuals, I felt it was time to shake things up.
After officially unplugging at the end of November, I cut down my time interacting online to about 1 hour a week, and most of that hour was spent answering emails that required a response. Initially, the void was felt, but that void was quickly filled with many other activities that I’d been neglecting. This post highlights what I did, what I learned, and how I’m going to apply these lessons moving forward. Additionally, based on insights gained during this hiatus, I’ve got a few notes for media companies and journalists struggling to stay afloat:

A Few Things I Did With My Time Offline
1. I read voraciously. I’ve always had a heart for fiction. Unfortunately, graduate school broke the spell, leading me to spend the past three years of my reading life collecting notes from books on economics, global business, transnational politics, and international security. Sure, it’s riveting stuff, but I really began to miss the art of storytelling. So, over the past month, I tore my way through a pile of novels that I’d once wanted to read a long time ago but didn’t: The Portrait of a Lady, U.S.A Trilogy, and In the Pond, to name a few. I also revisited one of my favorite fiction books of all time, If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler.
2. I picked up another book. Several years ago, I wrote a young and reckless book that quickly died. This was largely due to my own shortcomings- I wasn’t ready to tackle the subject matter and gave up on it after a handful of rejections from publishers. The experience turned me off from writing for a while (actually, it paralyzed me), but I began to revisit the prospect of writing longer works again. I started penning a narrative non-fiction book over a year ago, yet couldn’t seem to find the rhythm I needed to move forward. Well, the rhythm has returned and now I’m just enjoying the process.
3. I ran. Shortly before putting this blog on hold in November, I started taking fitness seriously again. I’ve always been one of those people that doesn’t operate well without a daily sweat, but the necessary discipline is difficult to maintain. So, I began running again. Hard. I set my alarm clock for 5:30am, signed up for NYRR membership and entered the lottery for the New York City marathon (fingers crossed). On Saturday, I finally hit ten consecutive miles at a 6.0MPH pace- progress. Painful. If you’re battling anxiety about your future (like me) or are dealing with a personal problem or bad habits or just want to raise your energy level, run! And, if you’re in New York, come running with me.

What I Learned From My Time Offline
1. The internet isn’t the best place for promoting diplomacy between the US and China. At least, it’s not the best place given current modes of usage. But, maybe that will change.
2. While artistry and invention can be shared online easily, it is better cultivated offline. Inspiration is the byproduct of experience.
3. For the most part, 140 character tweets and short blog posts don’t stick. Memory gravitates toward storytelling, not content. This may have been the most important lesson of all.
4. Horn tooting is not a good business model. Nor is inaccessibility. In fact, it’s dull. It’s talent compromised by ego. And yes, I tweeted this today.
5. Headline news very rarely changes, and it’s rarely positive or actionable. So, what value does it have, really? I learned that, while it’s certainly important to stay informed, it is even more important to uncover news stories that a) you can do something about or b) have a tangible impact. Check out Tonic News- good stuff.
6. Long-distance running is the perfect metaphor-in-action for anything else worthwhile in life.

Where I’m Going With This
1. Yes, I’m tweeting again and eventually I’ll blog again, but I’m going to be spending much less time with it than I used to. Additionally, I’d like every tweet and blog entry to have some larger value for whoever reads it- beyond content. A helpful tip or idea, a good resource, a news story that was buried but shouldn’t have been, or another person’s experience. I’d like them to have more sticking power.
2. The blog will change eventually. I haven’t been back to China in over a year now, and I don’t foresee going back for at least another six months. So, it seems less reasonable to write solely on China (though China will always be in the picture for me). I’d like to incorporate topics like development economics, corruption and transparency, art in politics, and sustainable business. I’d like to do more interviews. I’d like to hit the streets of New York a bit more. What do you think?

Finally, A Few Notes For Editors and Journalists
Disclaimer: I once worked on new media strategies for a global publishing/content company. And then I resigned. I’ve been marginally employed ever since, largely because I’m operating on long-range thinking and a calculated gamble. So, do with the following what you will:
1. Unplug. Find a week, or even a month to entirely unplug. Sounds impossible, right? It’s not. No Twitter, no blogs, no online research, no email. Step away from the computer. I am officially convinced that media professionals are so mired in finding the best possible solution to counterbalance the decline of print that they’re grabbing for any visible hope. Just look at the number of uninspired blogs started by editors and journalists (yes, there are a few good ones) or the technologies that publishing companies believe will save their hides. Another portable reading device, anyone? How about a digital magazine? What about paid subscriptions or advertising through tweets? Sigh. Unplug and get out into the world. Play. Think deeply. Come up with a unique product, solution or angle that does not yet exist. You can’t do this by searching for it online.
2. We’re in the middle of a “ME” crisis but the truth is, it’s not all about you. It’s about your audience, your readers. It’s about engagement. It’s about sharing and storytelling and bringing value to multidimensional conversations. If you’re going to launch a blog or a media company, make sure that self-importance is not a theme. And, make an attempt to remove the iron shield between you and your audience. If you’re looking to become a reality star or a talking head, then ego is great. Otherwise, tone it down. Gone are the days of The Bell Jar where you are the glory of Madison Ave.
3. Please don’t jump on the “next hot thing!” Sure, China’s smokin’ and everyone wants a piece of the action. But, that doesn’t mean that you should launch a media outlet focused on China (or anything else that might seem lucrative). Write what you know. And, if you don’t know about something but are curious to learn, ask others to share what they know. Attempting to trick your audience is never a bright idea.
4. Speak to memory. Commit to stories that have staying power. Don’t become another “content company.” We are buried in content already. Give us something that we will remember, that expands our own possibilities. Humanity can be injected into technology and if you do it properly, the revenue you need to survive will surface. Did you become an editor or a journalist (or any media professional) for the money? No, you likely came into it for the art and for the chase. What’s changed?

Thanks for reading. Now get offline for a bit!

Commentary blogging, internet, journalism, literature, reflection, social media, unplugging