A [Not So] Secret Language不太秘密的语言

On the first day of third grade, Mrs. Riesman introduced me to Ying as a girl who had just come from Shanghai, and sat the two of us at desks adjacent to each other.  As the only Chinese American in the class, I was assigned to be Ying’s translator, and we quickly became inseparable.  Like most best friends, we would share secrets with each other, and the best part was that unlike other kids in the class, we had our own secret language that we could gossip in: Chinese.  And so whenever we had a snarky comment to make about something that had just occurred in class or on the playground, we would say it out loud in Chinese, knowing that the information would be privy to only the two of us.
In fifth grade, Ying and I and the rest of our classmates moved on from elementary school to upper elementary school.  Moving from elementary school to upper elementary school brought with it new challenges, one of which was the presence of Chinese Americans other than ourselves in class.  In our township wide upper elementary school, Ying and I were placed in a class where amazingly, there were other Chinese Americans.  Thus, our “secret language” was no longer secure.  Ying, however, ever innovative, thought of a new secret language: we would learn Braille.  Thus, the two of us diligently studied the various dot patterns that made up the Braille alphabet in order to write secret messages to each other.  At one point, I did know the whole Braille alphabet by heart, but unfortunately, our Braille “secret language” never quite took off with the same effectiveness as our original secret language.
Nowadays, sharing secrets in Chinese would hardly be secure, whether among populations where there are people of Chinese heritage or not.  I recently returned from a trip to Scandinavia, and discovered that even there, among people virtually all having blonde hair and blue eyes, we could not share our private thoughts in Chinese.  Wherever we went, even at the remote Kronborg Castle in northern Denmark where Hamlet was set, Chinese tourists were well represented.  The benefit of having fellow Chinese speakers, however, was that by chatting in Chinese with these kinsfolk, my Chinese American friends and I could easily ingratiate ourselves with these fellow tourists and ask for favors like helping us take group photos.  It just goes to show that in this increasingly globalizing world, having a common language can be just as valuable, if not more valuable, than having a secret one.三年级的第一天，我们的老师，赖斯门老师，介绍了给大家一位刚从上海来的同学，而让她坐在我旁边。身为班级里的唯一一个华族，赖斯门老师给予给我为新同学翻译的责任；我和她很快就变成了死党。像别的好朋友一样，我们经常有我们的秘密，可是最好的是我们拥有一个秘密语言，可以公开地用，公开地说，不怕泄漏。什么呢？当然是华语。凡是有话要说的话，不管是在课室里，或操场上，我们都会大声地说出来，因为只有我们俩听得懂。

五年级时，我们整班上了中学，多了很多挑战。最可惜的是中学里有别的华族同学，不能再用我们的密码来沟通了。可是我的朋友想到了个新办法：学点字！因此我们很用心地学了点字。我曾经背熟了整个点字字母，可是到今天都已经忘了，因为这密码没我们开头的密语畅销，非常可惜。

今天，想把华语当成密码是笑话。不管人在哪儿都会有人会讲华语。我最近从Scandinavia回来，在那时发现到在一个通通是金发蓝眼的国家内，我们还是不能使用自己的密码语言，因为那也有会讲华语的人。我们去到哪里也会见到了解华语的人，甚至丹麦偏僻的Kronburg城堡，Hamlet的来源，也不例外。是洋人吗？不是，是从中国来的旅客，到处都是。但是这也可算是好事，因为有他们在时，我们总是会有人可聊天，可拖来帮我们拍照和类似。自己人，自己人。在这越来越国际的世界里，如果拥有个＂普通话＂（哈哈！这幽默请原谅。）和拥有个密码语言不是一样重要的话，就是更重要了。