Around 1:00, when the road turns into a shadeless skillet, I pulled into a schoolyard to rest. A group of young monks gathered around me, hoping to practice their English. The conversation was awkward, and one monk riffled through a battered textbook, as though it might hold a key. I asked to have a look.
The cover announced that the book was the first in a four-part series, at the end of which the student would be proficient in English conversation. I flipped to a random page. I started to laugh. The monks started to laugh. This is what I read.
The students talk together on likes and dislikes.
Scene: Mr. Priestley’s study
Characters: Mr. Priestley, Frieda, Pedro, Jan, Hob, Olaf, Lucille
Mr. Priestley: Good morning. We will have a general talk this morning with all of you taking part. What things in life do you dislike? Come on, I want to have your ideas. Frieda, will you begin please?
Frieda: Well, I don’t quite know what to say, but, to begin with, I don’t like London. I am tired of London.
Pedro: I remember, sir, a sentence of Dr. Johnson’s: “When a man tires of London, he tires of life.” Johnson and Dickens and Shakespeare (at least in his youth) certainly liked London.
I flipped back to the cover to see if the book’s subtitle was “How to Speak Like a Constipated British Public School Student.” I scanned some other chapters, which contained humorous anecdotes about King George (I swear) and instructions on the proper use of the phrase “oughtn’t I…” I didn’t see any guidance on how to use the phrases “prithee” or “pray tell.” Perhaps they’re in Book 2.
The textbook was not targeted at any particular nationality. It contained not a single letter of Khmer, not even a pronunciation guide. You could sooner learn English from a dictionary. I found this upsetting, and not just because I wanted to kick Pedro in the teeth.
Young Khmers want to speak English. To them, it signifies economic opportunity. Often this opportunity is related to the tourist trade, although English also happens to be the language of business in Southeast Asia. And almost without fail, young Khmers are terrible at English. The exceptions are usually the students who are taking private lessons or attending private school. (Once such student told me that my bike was “so cool.” I agreed.)
The one phrase most Cambodian kids actually have mastered isn’t even in the book. If I write a memoir of my trip, it will be titled, “One Dolluh, Meestuh! Hounded by Adorable Children Across Southeast Asia.”
I would like to blame this problem on the French, who idiotically attach the condition that French be taught in schools to their foreign aid. But I don’t think young Khmers are speaking much French either.
I did a little research to see if textbook availability is another of those Big Impossible Problems that the developing world struggles with. It is.
