Language Apps|Competition|Self-Sabotage
Taming My Demonic Alter Ego
How a language learning app ignited my hyper-competitive side
Learning foreign languages is like trying different coffee flavors. It gives my brain a buzz, satisfies my intellectual appetite, and takes me on a cultural journey.
Japanese is my mother tongue, and English and French were both the languages I learned in my formative years. While I’ve tried other European languages, notably German and Italian, none stuck around for longer than a college semester.
Korean and Chinese, on the other hand, are so intertwined with Japanese that I’d feel ashamed as a fellow East Asian to not even attempt a simple conversation.
The multitude of entertaining shows on Netflix Korea or Netflix Taiwan keeps me motivated to learn those languages. Plus, the food! Oh, the food! Gimbap with kimchi and Taiwanese beef noodle soup!
And my crush on a classmate from Hong Kong in my first college year — oh, Julia! — was the game changer.
So, enter Demonic Alter Ego. (insert ominous music from Bruce Lee’s Fists of Fury)
But wait! Before I do that reveal, allow me to rewind slightly and introduce Duolingo, a popular language-learning app.
I started using that educational tool when preparing to move to the People’s Republic of China for work. This was shortly before the pandemic.
I started out as a false beginner, meaning I had earlier acquired basic knowledge of pinyin and Han characters, functionally similar to Japanese romaji and kanji.
Duolingo didn’t woo or wow me much at the time for various reasons. Still, it served its purpose of forming the habit of practicing every day. The gamification utilized by the app can be addictive, but I didn’t get sucked into it. Eventually, I got tired of its over-reliance on verbatim translation. It got annoying to be penalized if I made a careless typo in English(!) due to haste or sleepy fingers.
I resorted to traditional methods such as reading children’s stories, listening to recorded speech, and finding a native Mandarin speaker to teach me at a school or in a language exchange. I wanted to learn Mandarin intensively and seriously. Having fun learning was not a priority for me.
But I also knew that my haste and impatience were counter-productive.
Fast-forward 5 years.
Today, my Mandarin proficiency is at a painful standstill, progressing only as far as intermediate (HSK4) despite having lived in the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and Taiwan for almost 3 years. I am now back on Duolingo to take my Mandarin and Korean to the next level. But since I currently don’t live in a Chinese-speaking environment, it may seem I’m fighting an uphill battle.
Ironically, I no longer study hastily or feel impatient about my progress. My current life has no urgent need for languages other than English and Japanese. Since that pressure is absent, my experience with the app is actually fun — more or less.
The bugs, quirks, and linguistic issues stubbornly remain with the app as before.
Hello, Duolingo customer service, anyone there?
But I have made a surprising self-discovery.
Has it become increasingly meaningful to me to compete with other users for pole positions or at least be in the top percentile to get promoted to the successive league?
Ha! Is that even a question? Beating others is what I now live for. I crave the taste of blood. I fantasize about tallying up my points to the six digits and watching others fight for any remaining spot on the life raft.
Once on the throne with a comfortable lead, I can witness human nature at its worst, with users climbing over other users to advance to the next level. The savvy ones strategically save their currency until the final moment to buy extra time or double their points to boost their survival chances.
At the top, my ego is intact. I feel like a winner. But then why do I also feel empty inside? Is it because I have forgotten why I’m using the cute green owl app in the first place, which is to make progress in my Chinese or Korean learning?
Yes, I was forfeiting my original motivation to satisfy my inner demon, who hates being called a loser. (insert image of “L” finger gesture over forehead)
One day, my competitive alter ego saw its hopes of another consecutive win dashed when I failed to keep up with stronger rivals. Annoyance and indignation possessed me. My concentration and confidence crumbled, and my integrity experienced a meltdown when I prioritized ranking over learning. I lost my mojo. And demotion soon followed.
The tide turned on me like a perfect storm.
“A rising tide floats all boats….. only when the tide goes out do you discover who’s been swimming naked.” — Warren Buffet
I caught myself floating naked among the pieces of my imaginary boat wreck. The water was so cold my birdie shrunk into its nest. But I felt liberated, exorcised of the arrogant demon in me who made me believe I was invincible. In reality, I was a sort of an emperor without clothes.
I salvaged my damaged self-esteem and am back on course to advance — with a difference. My points and position are now an afterthought — much like the number of followers and readings I get on Medium. In fact, I haven’t checked my stats since writing about my 300th follower half a year or so ago. Besides, I write only for writing.
Of course, I diligently practice daily on Duolingo with an interrupted streak: 84 days (as of 15 June 2023). I mindfully progress through the exercises, ensuring I understand new vocabulary words and sentence structures that I try to use with my online tutors.
Occasionally, my alter ego resurfaces and tempts me to join the dark side again. With my sinister grin à la young Damian in The Omen (1976), I nod.
“…the look of sublime happiness on the little boy’s face after he knocks his mother off a balcony with his tricycle.” — Roger Ebert
Time to roast the cute green owl?
Sources:
[1] Warren Buffet quote: www.altusq.com.au/a-rising-tide/
[2] Roger Ebert quote: rogerebert.com/reviews/the-omen-1976
