Photo by Tj Holowaychuk on Unsplash

Christmas in my household has always been “different”. My family has our own set of traditions, almost bordering on idiosyncrasy. We celebrate Christmas on the 24th, eat sushi with our Christmas ham, and stay up late to count down to Christmas like one does for the new year.

This year, the Christmas (eve) dinner felt different. It was quieter and more subdued. Our dinner conversation revolved around vaccines and embarrassing stories of telecommuting. Nothing a good old-fashioned biomedical lesson (with a sprinkle of statistics) to put your language skills in place. My mother only speaks Mandarin and Hokkien, armed with a handful of English phrases she picked up from watching American TV crime shows. After many rounds of poor translations from my sister and I, we managed to convey the technology of the mRNA vaccine, though I am pretty sure we did its sophistication no justice. My mother marvelled at its technology and described the old-school vaccines she had in the 70s which left scars (we never quite figured out what it was for – smallpox? BCG?) that served as a physical mark for her generation. By the end of the dinner, over some homemade chocolate pudding, we were discussing our favourite YouTube cooking channels, while I translated cooking terms between Mandarin and English for my sister and her.

Family conversations in my household have always been like this growing up, we switch from one topic to another and trade in English, Mandarin and Hokkien. We pause, hemming and hawing, searching for an equivalent (or close enough) word to get our stories across. We always managed to accommodate, switch between languages and translate on the fly. Sometimes my sister, my father and I talk in rapid-fire English and I see my mother smiling and nodding; I would translate to her what was said briefly, and she would tell me she kind of understood. 

I think a lot about my proficiency in Hokkien, and how it mirrors my mother’s proficiency in English. I produce a few words and understand a whole lot more. I can’t put my finger on why it bothers me a little that I am not proficient in it, or what being proficient in it really means to me. It reminds me of an early childhood memory, standing in the kitchen, making a conscious choice to pick up Hokkien so I could “be an adult” and speak with my grandmother who lived with us. 

Now, years after she passed, I hardly use it anymore. I still use Hokkien now and then, a smattering of phrases at home, a listening aid for eavesdropping on conversations in public. I hold onto these bits and pieces of Hokkien, even when my parents and peers tell me how “weird” and “uncouth” it sounds. I think, now, mostly, it reminds me of my grandmother smiling and nodding at my little bits of Hokkien mixed with Mandarin.

This post was written by our research assistant Victoria, BLIP lab’s newest member! She’s currently working on the language mixes project. Besides English, Victoria also knows Mandarin, Hokkien, and a little bit of Japanese.

Click here for more Multilingual Memories!

“Aunty, lo hor! Aunty, lo hor!”, I yelled as I ran across the HDB corridor to my neighbour’s door. I banged on the door as I repeated the message hoping that she heard me soon enough to take in her almost crisp-dry laundry hanging out on the galah. Earlier in the day, I had started it with “B, A, ba, C, A, ca, baca. S, A, sa, Y, A, ya, saya…” in my Malay as a Second Language (presently referred to as Mother Tongue) class. Growing up, there was a plethora of languages—my mother and the neighbour, who always depended on us to keep her laundry dry, chatting away in Hokkien, the wonderful next-door aunty married to the Eurasian man of Dutch ancestry coming over every tea-time without fail to have a chat with my mother in Malay, Teochew and Hokkien, and speaking to us children in English, the immediate neighbour on the left who only spoke Hailam and thus, by default my mother’s conversations were in ‘broken’ Hailam with her, and my paternal grandmother complaining in Tamil to my mother that her children are constantly speaking in English and not Tamil—in the air.

As a child, I had clear signs of what language to use with whom in the household – English with my father, who had made the conscious choice of using English with the children for pragmatic reasons, Tamil and English with my mother who knew better then to speak to us children in Hokkien lest she upsets her mother-in-law who was already unhappy with the increasing usage of English in the household, Tamil with my grandmother, and English, the natural choice, with my siblings.

As a parent, I now have made a conscious choice of what languages I use with my children: English mainly, while their father uses Tamil. Of course, my children also hear Malay, which is our secret coded language when my hubby and I don’t want them to know something. How different was the language environment when you were growing up compared to your children’s?

Shamala recently joined our team as a Research Fellow. She graduated with a PhD in Psychology from the University of Reading in 2016, where she worked on bilingualism and how it affects language processing and cognition. Shamala has since worked at many different places, including NTU, NIE, JCUS, and SUSS. She’s currently working on the Language Mixes project.

Click here for more multilingual memories!

Last month, BLIP Lab has launched an exciting new project called Talk Together! Click here to find out more about how you can join us in investigating how Singaporean children’s language development may change with us spending extended time with them under these post-Circuit Breaker circumstances.

People go on exchange for a variety of reasons; for independence, travelling, to learn under a different country’s education system. For me, one of the biggest motivating factors was to hone my language skills. 

I had only just started learning French in university for two semesters, but I loved studying it and knew that I could not miss the opportunity to immerse myself in a naturalistic environment where the language would be spoken by native speakers all the time. 

The most unexpected way I experienced the effectiveness of this language learning method was when I took on a babysitting/tutoring job with a French family. I looked after two charming boys and two precious girls aged 3-10 and taught them English weekly. There was one major complication though: the children spoke close to no English! 

Being forced to use only French in order to be understood was a challenge that pushed the limits of my language skills. I had to quickly become familiar with the vocabulary for the children’s daily activities, especially in giving commands to keep them safe! We held surprisingly long conversations together in spite of my halting attempts, the children teaching me the words I didn’t know in French while I shared the English word in return. 

This piece was written by our #SGUnited intern, Mebelle. Mebelle is a fourth-year Linguistics major.

Photo by Jess Vide from Pexels

Growing up, I was exposed to English, Mandarin and a few Chinese dialects. According to my mother, when I was about 2 years old, she told my grandmother in Hainanese that she was leaving the house and to their surprise, I brought my shoes to the door and assumed that I would be leaving too! They were amazed that I could understand Hainanese despite not being deliberately taught it.  

Till today, I can still understand the Hainanese conversations my mother has with my grandparents and relatives, although I cannot speak it. I guess you can call it receptive multilingualism, which is a term I had learnt recently! Similarly, as my parents also speak Hokkien, I have picked up some Hokkien phrases here and there and am able to understand most of their Hokkien conversations as well.   

Something amusing I remember too, about my childhood was memorizing (without understanding) and singing along to theme songs of Hong Kong and Korean dramas I would watch with my family. One particular theme song I remember singing to was the Korean drama 大长今(Dae Jang Geum). You can give it a listen if you have not already! Fun fact is that it is actually written in Old Korean, the first documented stage of the Korean language. I think it amuses me how I was able to memorize these songs in a foreign language effortlessly as a child, which is something I find harder to do at this age. 

I have always found languages and the process of acquiring one to be pretty interesting. Before you acquire that particular language, the written and spoken form does not seem to make sense. But once you begin the process of acquiring one, be it reading or speaking, it feels like you have unlocked a secret code or opened a door in your brain and somehow what you read and hear now seem to make so much sense! Fascinating, isn’t it?  

This piece was written by Jairia Lim, our #SGUnited Intern. Jairia is a fourth-year Linguistics student.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

For the most part of my life, language-learning has been more rooted in as an academic obligation rather than borne out of personal passion and interest. While the studying of mother tongue languages have been implemented in the local education system to strengthen our connections to our ancestral origins and deepen understanding of our cultures so that we may embrace them – academic pressure may create a counter effect and cause students to dislike learning their mother tongues. 

Personally, back when I was younger, I did not see much value or purpose in learning Chinese given that my first language is English – my main medium of communication with friends and family. Additionally, I felt like Chinese was difficult to learn, which made me dread Chinese class all the time. I am sure that many others can relate to this. Till this day, I still remember my classmates and I dragging our feet to Chinese class and complaining about why we had to learn Chinese! In fact, I was really looking forward to never having to speak or write Chinese again since I was to be exempted from taking Chinese as a subject in Junior College. 

When I entered university, we were given the opportunity to take foreign language courses as our elective modules and it was then that I truly discovered the joy of learning a new language. Throughout my three years in university, I have taken Spanish, Thai and Korean as language electives and each module was a unique experience where I got to explore the different intricacies of each language. Isn’t it a profound and satisfying experience to see words that seem like meaningless symbols at the start suddenly make sense to you and become associated with various meanings and ideas? Undoubtedly, it is also fascinating to see how certain languages have overlaps between each other, a reflection of how various cultures have influenced each other.  

Thinking back to those days, maybe I would have enjoyed Chinese class a little more if I had taken the time to appreciate the intricacies of the language, instead of viewing it as a mere academic obligation to be fulfilled in a paper chase.  

This piece was written by our #SGUnited intern, Hannah Lin. Hannah is a fourth-year psychology student.

Photo credit: Adrianna Calvo on Pexels

Photo: Annabel and Grandpa

Looking back on my childhood, I realized that I gained proficiency in English and Mandarin not through constant drilling and memorization of phrases and words from school worksheets. Instead, my parents provided me with constant exposure and opportunities for interaction with the other caregivers which created for me a rich language environment.  

I was very fortunate to have my grandparents around me when I was growing up, and it was not till later when I realized they had played an important role in how I acquired English and Mandarin Chinese.  

While both of my parents were busy working, it was my paternal grandfather, otherwise known as 爷爷 (ye ye), who would pick me up from kindergarten and primary school daily, and we would take the bus home together. Looking at the buildings and scenery on the way home, we would naturally converse in Mandarin as I told him about my day. When I reached home, it would be my paternal grandmother, whom I call嫲嫲 (ma ma), who would help me with my English homework and spelling, making sure that I would score well in my spelling test the next day. She had been educated in English. During the weekends, I would go over to Tiong Bahru and spend the evenings with my maternal grandmother whom I remember fondly as麻嫲 (ma ma), as we would converse in Mandarin while watching her favourite Taiwanese dramas such as 《爱》 and 《夜市人生》 together.    

It was through daily interactions with my grandparents that I managed to become proficient in both languages at a young age, and I am very grateful to have them around. Having two grandparents who speak Mandarin and a grandmother who speaks English has enabled me to learn both languages simultaneously as I constantly had to switch between languages when conversing with them.  Although I now take the bus home from school on my own, no longer need help in with my homework and have switched to watching Netflix and Youtube videos – sometimes, I find myself reminiscing about those days. They will forever remain as simple but beautiful memories.  

To me, the best way to learn a language is through experiencing it in your daily lives, with your family and loved ones.  

This piece was written by our #SGUnited Intern, Annabel Loh. Annabel is a fourth-year Chinese major.