当我母亲从她居住的马来西亚村庄搬到一个城镇时，她不得不在初中开始学习一门全新的语言：英语。当时很多人以羞辱别人为乐，当她的老师当着全班的面，用尖酸的语言嘲笑她的作文时，她无力反抗。当她开始哭泣时，班长站起来说“够了”。

“Be like that class president,” my mother said with tears in her eyes. The class president took her under her wing and patiently mended my mother’s strands of language. “She stood up for the weak and used her words to fight back.”

“要像那个班长一样”，妈妈含着泪说，要为弱者说话。要知道那个班长不仅保护了她，还耐心地帮她提高语言。

We were both crying now. My mother asked me to teach her proper English so old white ladies at Target wouldn’t laugh at her pronunciation. It has not been easy. There is a measure of guilt when I sew her letters together. Long vowels, double consonants — I am still learning myself. Sometimes I let the brokenness slide to spare her pride but perhaps I have hurt her more to spare mine.

母亲要我教她正确的英语，这样Target 商场的白人老太太就不会嘲笑她的发音了。当我把她的话拼缀在一起时，会有一种歉疚感。长元音、双辅音，其实这些我自己也仍在学习。有时候我避免让一些只言片语伤害她的自尊心，但我可能已经在不经意时，伤害了她很多。

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