Learning bo po mo of hanyu in a Washington class

It was my first day of class, and I was gung-ho for my Chinese Mandarin beginner's course. I took the elevator up to the fourth floor of my Washington, D.C. language institute to pick up my textbooks, then one floor back down to the classroom when I noticed that I had been handed Integrated Korean by mistake.

Somewhat flustered, I traveled one floor back up where I was given my four Chinese Primers in wild colors. As I was clutching my textbooks and storming to class, a woman cast me a compassionate glance. My task was not going to be easy.

Our teacher was already there: Fiona was a charismatic woman who had come to the United States from Taiwan 18 years ago. She had started working at McDonald's but was now our venerable laoshi (teacher).