I’m so glad you started a book club! The Red Mud Reading Club is built on this very desire: to share the joy of reading with like-minded friends and encourage each other. As the increasingly advanced digital world makes face-to-face conversation increasingly rare, these kinds of interactions become even more valuable.
The study sessions were a real motivator for both the inspector and me, forcing us to continue diligently studying. However, for two months, when we found ourselves facing five study sessions simultaneously (there were also several teacher study sessions in Hefei), we felt a bit overwhelmed. Fortunately, we made it through this year, so we’ll need to re-plan for next year.
Speaking of reciting ancient poems, it may be my biggest gain from the study session this year. In fact, I read books on the rhythm of poetry a long time ago, and I collected a lot of them without realizing it. However, I couldn’t understand them at all before. Sometimes I felt that I had a basic understanding of the concepts, but after reading a few poems, I was still completely confused. I only now realized that most Tang poems are not correctly read when read directly in Mandarin. If you only use some concepts to read, you won’t be able to understand them at all. Now I look back and see that most of the various things on the market that teach children to recite and memorize ancient poems can be classified as harmful. Even if they are done very seriously and well, they only lead people down a detour that looks very refined but loses the inner spirit, and most of them can’t get back on track. Anyway, I almost couldn’t get back on track ^_^
In the orthodox academic world (still dominated by men), Ms. Ye Jiaying isn’t exactly a particularly revered figure within the academic community, but she certainly has been my greatest inspiration. Her most special quality, I think, is her ability to narrate and recite poetry with such naturalness and calmness that you’re moved just by listening to her recite. I don’t know why so many scholars delve deeply into classical poetry, producing works that are incomprehensible without profound scholarship, yet can’t recite them so naturally that even the average person can be moved? After half a lifetime of studying, I realize that reading classical poetry was essentially like “watching a silent film.” Looking back, I realize I wasted so many years.
I stumbled upon the audio of “Making Friends with Ancient Poetry” while doing my study session. I wasn’t impressed at first, and even felt a bit skeptical. But because of my fondness for Professor Ye, I patiently listened to it once, twice, and by the third time, I felt a sudden enlightenment. I couldn’t help but recite a few lines before going to bed and upon waking. One day, Xiaoyin’s mother said, “Why do you recite poetry so much like Ye Jiaying now?” I just…
“Oh!” I finally woke up, and unknowingly, I’d entered the “weird” category. Then, I went back to read books on meter (mainly those on modern poetry), and I realized the principles were actually quite simple, essentially a summary of experience. The reason I felt completely incomprehensible before was simply because I had no experience!
Of course, if you truly want to recite Tang poetry, “Making Friends with Ancient Poetry” alone is far from enough. But it’s a very good introduction, a way to gain direct experience. Reading poetry requires direct experience; any secondhand experience is alienating and inefficient. I later looked for other ancient poetry recitation books on the market, some for adults and some for children. While they’re fine for appreciation, they all suffer from a serious problem of sequence when it comes to learning. They’re not as good as Professor Ye Jiaying’s direct teaching method.
Let me put it bluntly. For example, if we want to teach children to chant, we first need to teach them to chant in the language they are most familiar with and most proficient in. In most cases, this should be done in Mandarin, but if a dialect is appropriate, that’s also acceptable. I think the best dialects are probably Wu or Cantonese. The biggest challenge with chanting in Mandarin is with entering tone characters. Ms. Ye repeatedly mentioned that she uses a short fourth tone pronunciation to replace them, such as the “jie” in “每逢佳節倍思亲” (every festival feels a bit like missing someone) and the “cha” in “遍插朱玉少一生” (every festival feels a bit like missing someone). While this may sound strange, it’s a necessary pronunciation and difficult for young children to grasp. The easiest way is to let them learn naturally by following along. These passages sound very natural in an appropriate dialect, so using Wu or Cantonese as a supplement would be very convenient.
Once one reaches a certain level of proficiency in chanting using the above method, one will naturally find a tune to hum, and this is chanting. The tune of this chanting is entirely based on personal convenience and preference. There is not, and should not be, a fixed tune. Moreover, the tune of the same poem can vary greatly depending on the person’s understanding and mood at the time. This is perhaps somewhat similar to black rap music, saxophone music, and the like, which generally have a main tune, but can vary greatly from performance to performance. This is precisely the most beautiful part of chanting. Mr. Ye said: Southerners can use southern tunes, northerners can use northern tunes, children can use children’s tunes, and the elderly can use elderly tunes…excited and moved, dancing…
I think this is the more natural order. If the order is reversed, regardless of the child’s age, where they live, or their spoken language habits, they are directly forced to chant according to a certain orthodox tune without first teaching them to chant according to the rules of ping and ze—I think this approach may be well-intentioned, but it can also be considered harmful.
Teaching children to recite ancient poetry by following the rules of ping and ze is not difficult for young children; two or three-year-olds can easily learn it, though this depends on whether adults can learn along with them. However, teaching older elementary school students is much more challenging. Firstly, they have limited time, and secondly, there’s a rather stubborn pedagogy in Chinese language classes. If children truly memorize ancient poetry by following the rules of ping and ze, they’ll become role models for mistakes in the classroom. This is likely unacceptable to Chinese language teachers. For example, in “Spring Night Joyful Rain,” “The wild paths and clouds are all black, the river boat is alone sleeping by fire.” If a child were to pronounce “ju” (ju), “hei” (hei) (hei) (hei) (du …
So the child will likely resist. Only when a child can clearly distinguish between “how to read in class” and “how to read” is it possible to teach them. Therefore, before teaching Xiaoyin, I carefully tested her. Only after I found that she could clearly distinguish between them did I dare to teach her. My biggest regret now is that when she was two or three years old, she could easily memorize over 200 Tang poems, but I didn’t know how to teach her to recite them. What a pity!
Only now do I truly understand that teaching children to recite ancient poetry isn’t about memorizing it (in fact, most of them will forget it completely), but rather about allowing them to fully experience the beauty of language through this song-like recitation, unconsciously and deeply moved. Therefore, it is particularly important to recite the ancient poetry as closely as possible to its original rhythm.
I’ve been reading Du Fu’s poems lately. Because he was known for his emphasis on rhythm, most of his poems fall into the standard “songbook” genre. Singing those songs often takes me into a world of ecstasy (*^__^*)
December 21, 2010, Beijing
Attached is an excerpt from the letter:
I’m mainly talking about poetry recitation. After I received the book “Making Friends with Classical Poetry” that you lent me, I didn’t read it to my children. I first read Teacher Ye’s “Words for Children” at the beginning. I was thrilled and delighted. I’ve never seen such profound and accessible writing before. I imagine that if I were to teach elementary school students just starting to learn classical poetry in this way, the effect would be truly remarkable. Why didn’t we have such teachings when we were young? This preface is actually a great lesson for me. The book you lent me was truly a lesson for me, and I benefited greatly from it. Later, I also listened carefully to the recitations you shared with Teacher Ye, but it was a pity that I didn’t hear your recitation for everyone last time. I’m really curious about what it would have been like!
I realize it’s Christmas again, and a year has already passed since last year’s New Year’s theme. How quickly it went by! I’ve gained so much from my time at Red Mud. The topics we’ve discussed haven’t just taught me about children’s literature, but also explored reflections on life and the world. Just as you said at the beginning, “Read the great book of the world, and the book of yourself, which you can never fully fathom.” This learning has given me pause for thought and empowered me. That inner strength is truly magical. I’m also truly grateful that you, despite your busy schedule, have insisted on accompanying me through my studies. Just before writing this letter, I realized that Red Mud has a truly diverse selection of book clubs planned for next year! I’ll have to carefully choose which ones to choose, haha.