Yesterday, I passed the Nursery class after dropping Noah off at his classroom for the day. The kids formed two lines, with their Chinese teacher demonstrating how to, if I understood their gestures correctly, walk properly within their lines. Their hands at their hips, the taller assistant standing behind her, the Nursery teacher spoke her instructions in smooth and fluent Mandarin. I listened to the unfamiliar words, letting them take me back to an older Chinese-English elementary school where the teachers drilled the same language into the students' heads. It's a lot to ask from a seven-year-old, but I couldn't help wishing I had been more mature when I had that education served to me every afternoon. Linguistically limited I read . . .