Language Apps|Competition|Self-Sabotage
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How a language app took me further deep into the abyss
I have to quit now. I’m in a co-dependent relationship with a language app, taking me down a toxic downward spiral in which my fluency in specific foreign languages, namely Mandarin, remains stagnant. I’m also frustrated with the app’s unchanging technical issues. I’m irritated by the overacting French voice actors and unimpressed with their randomly constructed content.
But as I explained in my previous article about Duolingo, it’s addictive because my ego prevents me from surrendering to the threat of demotion to a lower rank.
I should ignore rankings and focus on continuing my streak of doing at least one lesson daily. As of today, I’m at 141 days. My goal is to reach a nice whole number, like 666.
I know, I’m insane. My life has been hijacked by the app’s mascot Duo, the green-feathered owl.
But when I see my avatar sinking lower and others skipping over me even though I’ve spent the last 30 minutes scrambling to earn points, I panic and muster up the courage to fight and climb my way back up — at least past the demotion threshold.
And the points are so minimal — 10 points per activity — that the time invested in answering a stream of random, loosely connected, and out-of-context questions isn’t justified.
However, I worked out a little trick: Wait for the happy hour at 18:00, when points get doubled for 15 minutes. Then, avoid the nonsensical translation tasks by doing only the listening and speaking review exercises. That way, I score more points in less time.
When I have 100 points to spare, I often trade them out for an additional 15 minutes. But with a full-time job and an armful of personal commitments, finding that 30-minute window of focused gaming is still challenging.
Translation is an archaic approach to language acquisition
The least effective type of question is where you’re asked to translate by piecing together single words into their grammatically correct order in a sentence. Although translating from English to the target language is admittedly reasonable, the problem is during the translation from the target language to English.
More often than desired, the app will tell you you’re wrong for a correct response. I’m never 100% sure I’m right, so I occasionally ask my friend Grammarly to assist. It has almost always concurred with me.
I don’t want to get into the linguistic nature of English here — it’s not the point of this story — but I will say that using translation at this elementary level is a slippery slope and a relatively ineffective approach to fluency. Correctly matching single words or phrases, while still a form of translation skill, is satisfying when gamified.
Back to addiction: It kicks in after you’ve crawled out of the demotion zone, and a set of bonus points elevates you toward the top 10 spots. A voice inside your head begins to whisper to you,
“More, more, get more points! Hop past that guy with the annoyingly cute avatar! You can do it. What? You’re hungry now? Chew on your finger. Focus and keep going!”
So, I ignore my internal warning signs, roll up my sleeves, and scramble to earn minor gains by repeating monotonous phrases in the speaking exercise (for Mandarin):
I want break up with you. Of course, I don’t want break up with you. I don’t love you anymore, honestly. Actually, I love you, but I want expensive ring. If I say I love you, will you buy me expensive ring? If I buy you expensive ring, will you say you love me even though I know you don’t? How about you buy me expensive ring but I don’t say I love you and we are happy? Okay, I like happy.
And on and on.
Nevertheless, I persevered, even at the cost of neglecting my writing and becoming a stranger on Medium, thus wasting the monthly $5 membership fee for another two months.
With two days left in the competition, I made it to the coveted top three in the Diamond League, the highest level achievable.
I went full throttle. It felt like an F-1 race. I didn’t make time for a pit stop or pee stop. Feeling my brain rubber burning, I watched with narcissistic satisfaction my avatar slide up from third place to second. And if the now-third-place rival decided to pursue me like a thorn up my butt, I kept going until I was comfortably 200 points ahead for extra insurance with an hour left till game-over.
And my foot rested heavily on the accelerator; smoke from burning gray brain matter escaped from the cracks in my skull. My sanity fuel was nearly spent. 20 points. 40 points. 80 points.
I could see №1 nearly within reach.
“Full warp speed ahead, Sulu. Scotty, activate DRS — drag reduction system — when ready.”
“Captain, we have a problem.”
“What is it, Chekov?”
“Asteroids, Captain.”
“Fine. Sulu, set the laser torpedos! Brace yourself y’all! These are more stupid translation questions of giant proportions!”
My uncle is good warrior. Is your aunt good warrior? No, my aunt is nun. Is your uncle nun, too? No, but he has boyfriend who is brave warrior. Is the boyfriend nun, too? Sometimes, when he is satisfied.
Okay, maybe I was hallucinating that one, which explains why I ran out of time on the bonus test.
With 5 minutes left, I looked at the scoreboard after burning more rubber, warriors, and nuns. I finally made it to the pole position. I was ahead of №2 by 110 points. Being beaten from behind was not impossible, but I could already taste victory.
Then, my lights went out. I don’t remember anything during the long last minute. I started to regain consciousness, holding the trophy and feeling the champagne splash against my face.
It was drool dripping from my dog’s wet mouth, which stood on my chest as I lay — now fully awake — beside my phone on my room floor. It was flashing a message notification. It was from Duolingo.
Congratulations! You’re a certified leader of the Diamond League.
And I felt like a certified loser in life.
