I was seeing a little Chinese girl a few months back. She was the sweetest person in the world, until I started learning her language. I thought it was a pretty nice gesture – I was showing interest in her culture, and, when the time came, I would be able to converse with her family. As a tutor she turned into an absolute monster. Every time I got something wrong she would belt me with the textbook, and it was Mandarin, you could imagine the size of it. She scared me into language acquisition. Unfortunately I couldn’t get the Chinese tones – it was just too hard. It was the downfall of our relationship; we broke up not long after. I know it’s been a while but the whole ordeal has really stuck with me. I wake up at least once a week from the same terrifying nightmare: I’m repeating the word ‘mă’ in the wrong tone, and this petite little girl is screaming ‘mā’ back at me in a different one. It’s not that surprising; it was a very stressful event; however, I can’t help but wonder, how is a figment of my imagination correcting me? It’s not as though I understand the language.