Is more support needed to read Chinese?

On a teachers’ email list, the comment was recently posted:
I definitely need more than the text to understand even simple Chinese stories.
Translation is ONE way of making tests more comprehensible. But I think we need to exploit other ways as well, including gestures, pictures, body movements, etc.

Or not. This is a basic misconception about the role reading can reasonably play in TPRS-level learners of Chinese, and it’s based on prevailing (and effective) practices used in the alphabetic languages.

Translation (in ANY TPRS context) is NOT used to make texts comprehensible. Translation is used in TPRS to make sure texts were comprehended. And if you need more than the text to understand the Chinese text as a TPRS-level learner, your teacher is not using Cold Character Reading techniques properly, or at all. At a minimum, that teacher is not realizing that there is a basic difference between TPRS as practiced for the FIGS (French, Italian, German, Spanish, etc.) and Chinese. In the FIGS, the Target Language Voice doesn’t have to be as strong going into the reading, because the phonetic information is there to make “the voice” for the student if needed. In Chinese, the Chinese Voice needs to push the creation of meaning from the text.

When a student has had optimized comprehensible input of a subset of language, and then is given a text containing that language (but which is NOT the same as the story asked in class — not even close) they can read that text. Because that language is in the Chinese Voice. And then the length of the text gives them enough repetitions that the eye becomes skilled at recognizing those characters. If you cannot comprehend a text after having oral input, there wasn’t enough or optimized-enough input.

If you are trying to acquire vocabulary from a text in Chinese, it’s a fool’s errand until you have already acquired the major structure of the language. And then it’s just a lot of work. It’s a better way to get vocabulary expansion than memorizing lists, because of the context, but it’s by no means the same process as occurs in phonetic script languages. You STILL must look it up or have someone tell you what it is. In a vanishingly small proportion of cases, as a fluent non-native speaker of Chinese, you might encounter a word and say “Hmmm, I do know a word that sounds like gang [or kang or hang, because those phonetics are not reliable] and has something to do with the sense of that radical there. Hey, I know that word!” I’m still waiting for that to happen to me, and I read Chinese daily and widely, and have done for the past 35 years.

Despite claims to the contrary, radicals and phonetics are NOT significantly useful to TPRS-level learners of Chinese as “clues” to text meaning. There is no phonetic information in a Chinese text in practical terms. The language MUST be in the head before it can be read. Any attempt to have learners “figure out” unknowns before they have acquired the structure of the language will make comprehensibility plummet to levels well below even the 85% considered okay for guided reading.

Students who have acquired the major structure of the language already can certainly acquire vocabulary from a text — but I can tell you from YEARS of doing this in Chinese that it occurs only when you stop and look up the unknown word. Otherwise, you only “get” a written form, which has no language attached to it. At least today’s students can do this more or less efficiently with electronic tools. In the old days, with paper dictionaries, a beginning student might have a 60-70% chance of even finding the unknown character in the dictionary in the first place. There was very little acquisition of the words behind unknown characters going on in that case.

It’s possible to read Chinese without speaking it particularly well (ask any number of academics) but it has little to do with acquisition.   I have words in my reading vocabulary that fit this description (the word “alkane” comes to mind — I’ve looked it up a gazillion times but can’t ever remember how it’s pronounced, but I can recognize it and its meaning immediately when I’m reading a chemistry text). But in terms of language acquisition, I have not acquired the word for “alkane” in Chinese, have I?

“Hours and hours”?

On another TPRS-focused list, someone recently posted:

Terry Waltz, a staunch proponent of what I would call Classical TPRS, has said many times that TPRS takes a lot of practice and has a large skill set to master, and therefore she asserts that new practitioners need hours and hours of training and coaching, to begin implementing it successfully. I am probably not quoting her exactly, but that is a message I have heard from her over the years.

Hmmm… Where to begin?

Since I have never had any conversation of the person making this assertion, it’s probably not too accurate to say that the person has heard this message from me over the years, except perhaps indirectly.

But let’s look at the content of the message instead.

Does TPRS have a large skill set to master? I suppose it does, if you start listing the individual skills. The trick here, which the person in question does not mention, is that those individual skills are all ridiculously easy, taken individually. We can all ask questions. We can all state a sentence. We can all ask “What did I just say?” Those are not things that are earthshakingly difficult. It’s more like juggling ping-pong balls. It takes awhile to get the knack, but it’s not like you’re trying to sling bowling balls around. You won’t have to bulk up. You just need a little practice.

Do new practitioners need “hours and hours” of training and coaching? That sounds a bit excessive, almost as if someone is trying to make a point (and it isn’t me). I think just about anything requires hours of training and coaching (note: not “hours and hours”, unless you want to go to Carnegie Hall). Remember also that I train and coach primarily languages for which there is NOTHING available, and for which untargeted input would lead to horrible issues with literacy training. Untargeted input, which may require fewer teacher skills to perform, is simply not an option in Chinese, if you are planning on teaching kids to read and write using anything approaching a brain-friendly method.

I am certain that workshops on non-targeted TPRS last more than an hour, so should we assume that those, too, require “hours and hours of training”?

Might “classical TPRS” take longer to get good at than “untargeted TPRS”? Maybe. I don’t know. Logically, if you don’t have to think about what you’re saying or how to repeat it, it could be easier to do. But that comes at the (again logical) cost to the students, the cost of a lack of repetition. You may be able to get away with that in Spanish. I don’t know — I haven’t taught Spanish for a few years now, and have no plans to go back to it. But I can tell you that it won’t work in Chinese at the TPRS levels.

Here in Australia, where I am at the moment, we have had many conversations about the nature of TPRS and CI in general and how the specific experiences of teachers working with Chinese, Japanese and Indonesian fit into that. Indonesian is not a “hard” language — it’s alphabetic and non-conjugational to boot — but there are no CI resources available for it at present. Japanese is a very complex script, though it is partly phonetic, and its structure is very distinct from English and the FIGS. Chinese is — Chinese. Tones, opaque script, very different structure from English. Our conclusion is that these languages require a practice very distinct from those adopted by those teaching the FIGS languages (French, Italian, German, Spanish, and the like).

At this point, it might be most accurate to state that I practice what I could call COIN — Comprehensible Optimized Immersion through Narrative. And I would state right up front that the primary oral input in my practice is classical TPRStargeted, repetitive, 100% comprehensible input. I supplement the classical TPRS input techniques with techniques intended to deal with the specific features of the language I’m teaching that are not addressed with classical TPRS, and I use Cold Character Reading and Text-Referenced Writing (which themselves require enormous repetition within texts and a strong correspondence between oral input and readings so as to disallow untargeted input) for literacy.

I think “classical TPRS” is not to blame for being “difficult”. The skills are not difficult. What is needed is a long, hard look at how we are training people to get these skills. Training (not coaching) has not changed significantly for a long time. Things like the use of circling cards are my attempts to make training more user-friendly, in the hopes that it will become obvious that TPRS isn’t hard in the first place, and doesn’t require an enormous investment of time in training and coaching.

I value training and coaching. I think new teachers would do well to get as much of it as they can. It makes little sense to re-invent the wheel when there are people who have taught your language using this method for a longer time than you have, who can share experience and give you principles that will allow you to avoid making the same mistakes they did — mistakes they learned from and then used to tweak and perfect their methods.

One thing remains true, though: if you master the classical TPRS skills, you can go anywhere. You can do MovieTalk. You can do Story Listening. You can do untargeted TPRS. You can do any of a dozen other CI-based activities, even though the specific skills each technique require vary, because you have solid, unconscious questioning and comprehension checking skills in place. However, moving in the other direction, or laterally between any of the non-classical-TPRS options, is not possible without additional training is not viable.

So for my money, TPRS trained well is the best option for a beginning CI teacher, because it provides the most options going forward while addressing issues of engagement in the most effective way possible. And for the “Languages of Unusual Features”, I believe that the use of classical (targeted) TPRS with language-specific add-ons and a literacy plan aimed at the specific characteristics of that language is the way to go.

The piano played a wrong note

On a blog post, someone supporting the idea of untargeted “story listening” recently described a teacher’s performance delivering a targeted TPRS story (one for which the language to be emphasized was known before class started) thusly:

…my targeted stories are about as personalized as a Mad Lib activity.

Sounds to me kind of like someone blaming the piano if they haven’t reached the skill level to play the “Moonlight Sonata” without playing wrong notes.

TPRS requires skills. Skills require practice. I have yet to meet any teacher who could not master those skills if he or she wished to do so, and sought practice opportunities and training. But mastering classic TPRS and its core skills (circling and personalization) opens up the entire spectrum of CI teaching techniques. Including story telling, if that’s what you want to do. The reverse is, sadly, not true. Learning in a one-day workshop how to do some offshoot of TPRS that doesn’t include all its features does not equip you to be able to take up any of the many variations available today.

It’s always better to invest in good tools, rather than a one-use gadget.

Target language math

10 minutes of 60% comprehensible = 600 comprehension-units, and we don’t know if the meaning to language matches are correct or not.

9 minutes of 90% comprehensible = 810 comprehension-units, and we know all of them are correct.

That 1 minute of English is well used, not abused.

And for those who have doubts whether the use of English in TPRS is less than 10%, I have data proving that it is.

It’s baaaack

I’m afraid I do not see sufficient elemental differences between “story-listening” and anything else to consider story-listening an independent method. It’s TPRS 1.0 coming back, like the miniskirt, and has the same disadvantage: that all the varied bodies in question have to happen to fit the skirt for it to work, because like very early TPRS, its shape is unforgiving and imposed from outside. The TPRS of the late 1980s was not the personalized/customized method we see today, and there are very good reasons why TPRS has developed in the way it has, toward personalization, abandoning the attempt to impose stories on kids.

It confuses me that people who are great supporters of FVR — the key word being “free”, meaning choice and variation between student interests — would also espouse a one-size-fits-all selection of a story by the teacher. In Asian ESL (been there, taught that, BTW) this may go over better since conformity is much more valued, but in US public school teaching, I think in the majority of cases it’s very difficult to find a single story that would really compel the entire class. What teachers find compelling is rarely what all the kids find compelling.

Telling stories, rather than asking them, assumes the teacher can judge that a story (characters, details, ending) will be compelling to every student in the class. I can’t even imagine anyone being able to do that consistently throughout a school year, dealing with 30 or more students in a class. Having a class organically reveal what interests it avoids the pressure on the teacher to choose well, and also reveals a lot about the students. It’s also far easier to naturally repeat language that has been brought into comprehensibility, since everything grows as a whole, instead of being a series of stories that have no relationship to each other, stitched together (or not). Language acquisition in a school setting requires far more repetition than just what is available from natural frequency. TPRS provides high-density, high-quality comprehensible input, while most other “CI methods” provide mostly comprehensible input (depending on the willingness of the program to establish meaning through a shared fluent language) that is not particularly high-density.

It is also far more difficult to develop personal relationships with students when they are recipients of, rather than participants in, in a story. Asian classroom management is far simpler than that in the US (again, been there, taught that) but in the US public school system, most teachers find that building relationships with students is extremely important for classroom management if nothing else.

Telling a story occasionally is fine. But there’s no substitute for being able to ask stories reliably, in terms of flexibility, personalization and customization, for repetition of language, and in terms of compelling engagement for all, not just some.

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?

How central to a method does an “element” have to be to be an element of that method?

On an internet group, I recently spotted a comment that went something like this (I can’t find it at the moment):

I like a lot of the elements of [hot new method]. So I do [hot new method] but I just change a few things. Like, they don’t translate to establish meaning, but I do. And they force output, which I don’t. But I take a lot of elements from that method.

It’s nice to get along with colleagues. There’s no reason for us to go around screaming “You are teaching all wrong!” to anyone. I think we all agree on that.

But there comes a time when one has to draw a line and be clear about what something is or is not. What “elements” precisely is this teacher taking from Hot New Method? Are those elements not present in any other method, such as, for example, TPRS? I think they are.

It’s sort of like applying for a patent. Patent language usually goes something like “A method of doing XYZ in which A is used to…” There are many, many different ways of achieving XYZ. The thing that makes the patent (and allowing it to be granted a patent in the first place) is that the effect is achieved in a particular way, using a very specific method, which is different from all other methods of doing that thing.

In the case of TPRS versus “story listening” (which, I’m sorry, is just a throwback to the beginning of TPRS, before it developed to take content from students; it’s not something new other than the spiffy new title), for example, both are aiming to “engage students”. In the case of TPRS, the part of the patent that concerns engagement would read something like “A method of engaging students  using content obtained from students as a hook to capture their attention through personalization or customization.” In the case of story listening, it would be “A method of engaging students by providing a story the teacher believes they will all be interested in.”

And that’s exactly where TPRS was, “back in the day”. The content didn’t come from the students; it was a story that was repeated. And then, little by little, the idea of “milking” came about (yeah, at least I’m not the only one who can’t pick good names for new techniques!) That was later amended to be called “parking”, but anyway, it meant asking detail questions of the students about a single statement so that repetition could happen as the addition of details would keep them interested, although the story was still largely imposed on them. This developed over time into today’s technique where, if a script is used (the most restrictive implementation of TPRS in terms of student input), the only thing imposed is the basic skeleton, not the characters and details, and the students are contributing and customizing their story beyond simply deciding what color the cat-that-was-darn-well-going-to-be-in-the-story-anyway was.

This technique is truly an element of TPRS. I am not aware of any other language teaching method that trains teachers specifically to elicit information from students for inclusion in the language lesson in this way, as a means to interest them. “Engagement” is not an element of TPRS, since just about every language teaching method attempts to engage, with a greater or lesser measure of success. Even the pretty illustrations in traditional textbooks are an attempt to engage students.

So if we’re talking about adopting [Hot New Method], but we just change a few things, the question is whether or not we are keeping the true Elements of [Hot New Method]. If we replace something with an Element of another method, does that essentially mean we are using [Hot New Method], or are we really using that Other Method with a thin veneer of non-unique elements from [Hot New Method]?

And why does this matter?

It matters because the language teaching field is exploding right now. Teachers are getting more and more information more and more easily than ever before, and there are bazillions of suggestions, activities, pieces of advice, videos, and “do this” things out there. They’re bombarded. And if a teacher is new to the area of theory, or new to thinking about practice deeply, very often that teacher can’t distinguish between this and that, and ends up with a mishmash of practice that doesn’t work. The reason it doesn’t work is very simple: language is acquired through comprehensible input. Anything that deviates from comprehensible input in the classroom must either be Necessary  (due to the suggestion or order of a Higher Authority, or some circumstance that cannot be changed) or addressing an area for which the use of Comprehensible Input is not appropriate (culture for novices, etc.)

Pushed output is not compatible with efficient language acquisition through Comprehensible Input.

Failing to clearly establish meaning is not compatible with efficient language acquisition through Comprehensible Input.

If we “just change” these two “little” elements of a method, is the result is still that method? I would say no. If a method says it uses pushed output and does not establish meaning clearly, and we use that method but we don’t push output and we do establish meaning, is that the method we’re using? It’s the same as the people on the recipe sites that leave reviews: “This was a great recipe. I made it with pork, instead of chicken, and I substituted two cans of crushed tomatoes for the water, and I doubled the spices and cooked it in a slow cooker instead of on the stove.” The difference is that apart from taste, food is still nutritious — but input isn’t comprehensible if all the conditions for making it so aren’t met.

When voting isn’t enough

On a teacher’s group, a question recently came up (again) about listening rubrics. After one or two comments, this was the reply as to why it should be okay to use one that includes eye contact as a requirement to “meet standard” as listening in class:

As a class, students help to make and decide many things we do in class, including what they can do to show that they are listening actively, hence the rubric.

On the surface, this seems like a pretty solid argument, right? If the students themselves approved the rules, then we can assume that all the students are okay with them.

You would think.

But doing this with regard to an issue that has to do with groups of students (both identified and not) who communicate in a significantly different way then other people — that’s where the problems start.

I really hate to use the word “privilege”, as it is so overused these days, but I can’t think of another one that describes the problem underlying this decision. It’s privilege to assume that everyone shares your concept of how the world works, at least if you happen to be able to get away with it — which you can if you are in the majority or in a position of power. And both of those apply if you are a teacher in front of a classroom of students.

How was this decision to include eye contact made? Well, of course, by letting all the students in the class have their say. Do you think a student who doesn’t feel comfortable making eye contact while listening to others talking in class is likely to speak up and say so?

Think about what sorts of cultures do not value this. They are mostly cultures that also value conformity, that value not sticking out or perhaps not making others feel uncomfortable. And the other, very large and very under-recognized group that is very unlikely to speak up is the neurodivergent. There are far more people with autism and other neurological differences than are ever identified. These kids are having enough problem trying to navigate the teen years being different from their peers without doing anything that would make those peers focus on the differences. You can’t become an activist until you’re comfortable being identified as  member of the group you’re trying to help, or else able to show you’re not in the group, just being nice. Kids who are gay but haven’t come out yet don’t go to GSA meetings. And we have to add to this the fact that quite a few autistic teens have no idea that’s the root of their difference. They just assume they don’t fit  in. It’s not always  visible, because they learn to “pass” in many cases. This can be your valedictorian. It’s not just the kids in the special education program, not by a long shot.

Is that what we want, in a TPRS classroom? Do we want kids who have to “pass” for mainstream in order to “meet the standard”?

Go back to the 1950s for a moment. Those gay kids in class didn’t say they were. If there had been any kind of vote about, say, what kind of characters to include in a story, the gay perspective would have been totally ignored, because even though “everyone had input”, actually not everyone did. Some of the students had much less of a voice, but no one really cared at that time, because “that’s how it was”. It was normal. It was still okay to disregard those voices.

Multiculturalism is a great thing. It’s on the rise. But it’s important to realize that it’s not okay to stop thinking about those who are different just because the group you personally identify with or have a connection to is now being accommodated.

Neurodiversity makes people uncomfortable. Neurodiverse people talk, think, and react differently. They are the “not quite” who are excluded from the group because they don’t quite fit in.

It used to be “okay” to do that to other groups, too. The difference is that today you can most likely go talk to your black or gay or foreign teacher colleague, because there are likely black or gay and foreign teachers in your school. Now go talk to your autistic teacher colleague and get his perspective on what it was like to have to “pass” — and what it is still like.

Oh, right. There isn’t anyone to ask.

Shooting down the grammar geeks

On a teachers’ site, this question recently surfaced:

Ok suppose a kid said, “Mr/Ms Smith, I want more grammar teaching/practice” and you’re like, “no way, there but for the grace of Blaine go I.” You know C.I. works but you need a fast, simple demo to show that grammar (or really any explicit teaching of language) doesn’t work. How do you do that?

The fastest way to show that memorized rules application breaks fluency is a way I stole from Susie Gross, who used it in workshops.

Just find a native speaker of English, like, for example, the kid who’s asking for more grammar work, and say, “Can you tell me what you did yesterday? Just three sentences.” Let them say the three sentences. Then tell them, “Hmmm…you’re pretty fluent in English, aren’t you? I wonder if you could tell me what you’re going to do tomorrow — but don’t use any words that contain the letter ‘r'”.

Immediately the eyes will go up as the student applies this new rule, and the fluency will break as output becomes hesitant.

“You’re applying one memorized rule to a language you already know very well. Can you imagine how ineffective it would be to apply five or six memorized rules at the same time to a language you aren’t fluent in?” Then offer a good book in place of grammar exercises.


Tough love about the smart kids

A comment recently came up on a teachers’ group:

I have 2 groups with only high profile students, ages 8 to 12. I notice that their minds work very differently from the average student. I also notice that hardly any of the TPRS / CI activities that I do with them, works. On the contrary, they become even more difficult to handle. I am beginning to think that TPRS simply is not suitable for these special kids. Any thoughts?

This is a very, very, very common misconception among language teachers, and usually among those who are reasonably new to TPRS (less than 5 years, as a ballpark figure).

The minds of all people — every single person on the planet who has normal hearing and cognitive function — work precisely the same in terms of language acquisition. The mechanism is identical: incoming sounds are linked to meaning, over and over, until acquisition occurs. The brain hears meaningful messages and is able to “sort out” the grammar underlying them by comparing thousands of meaningful messages. Everyone in the world acquires language through the same mechanism, whether it’s their first, their fifth, or their fifteenth language.

Now. This teacher is asking about “high-profile” students, by which I believe he or she means “gifted” or “high achieving” students. At a minimum, this is talking about “fast processors” — the kids who seem to “get it” easily, and who can often succeed reasonably well in a traditional language class.

We know that students who are high achieving in school are often accustomed to earning grades through brute force. More hard work, more memorization = success in their minds. When they are given a method like TPRS that does not require these things, and works for everyone, it’s — surprising to them. At best. For some, it’s a bucket of cold water, because they are no longer special and more able than everyone else.

But what if the entire group is made up of students like that?

The key is that TPRS is not aimed at a barometer student who is not in the room. It is always aimed at the students who ARE there. So if the students are becoming restless or bored, it is very, very likely that there is some amount of boring input going on. There are a couple of reasons this could be. The teacher could be circling language they have already acquired. The teacher could be circling in too monotonous a manner (not  random, not including interesting “shadows”, not getting content from the students). These things are all very frequently seen in new TPRS teachers, who have learned how to circle but don’t yet have the level of automatic, flexible circling skill that allows them to concentrate on the meaning of what they are saying rather than how they are saying it.

Students who are fast processors require more “entertainment” — by which I mean more personalization or customization. Storytelling (as opposed to story-asking) in particular will fall flat, flat, flat with this sort of group. For them, the customization could also consist of including words that we do not expect them to acquire (but they often do) — lower frequency but “cool” words that hook their attention. They still need lots of repetition to acquire the structure of the language, but since they can be easily bored, the repetition has to be dressed in really interesting stuff. The number of repetitions they require may well be lower than those required by “slower” students, but they absolutely do still require repetition.

So the tough answer, the answer no one wants to hear, but the one I really believe is the crux of the issue is: Yes, TPRS is suitable for these kids. It’s the technique of the teacher which may not be suitable (matched) to their needs. Teach to their eyes while doing TPRS, and make sure the TPRS is at their pace, filled with interesting content and “cool” words, and above all, that the content comes from them.

When kids fail to acquire through being given 100% comprehensible input, we have to examine our own practice, not their brains. If they are listening to CI, they will acquire. They just need a reason to do so.

Smiling ruthlessness

On a teachers’ group, the question was recently posted:

How can I transition my Spanish 2 class from listening to me speak in Spanish, but almost always responding/suggesting/asking in English to the students speaking in Spanish as well?

Two words: classroom management. I know, not the answer people want to hear. Teachers would prefer to have a magic activity, or a couple of worksheets that would “catch them up”.

But what behavior of any kind is allowed in class comes from classroom management. What language is allowed in the classroom is a matter of classroom management. If you post and ruthlessly enforce the “2 Words of English” rule (students may use no more than 2 words of English to answer or make a suggestion), there really isn’t much chance that they will output English beyond that. It is more than possible to be ruthless with a rule without alienating your students. You just make sure to be ruthless with a smile.

But doesn’t that shut students down?

Yes and no. First, it depends on the attitude and tone of the teacher. But even more, it depends on the teacher accepting short target-language answers and then modeling how to make a longer one. Just as we use “three-fers” in circling to provide models of longer, more complex language while students are at a place that only allows shorter output, modeling provides extra input and also shows them how they can use language they already have — because the teacher is staying in bounds while doing this — to express complex meanings.

When a teacher accepts a short answer in the target language, he is modeling real-world communication. No one answers in complete sentences, and the more mundane the question, the less likely it is the answer will be in a complete sentence. Listen to question and answer pairs in your native language for a day if you don’t believe this. Now, of course we want more than what might be described as a “husbandly grunt” (you have heard this, ladies!) in response to answers in class, but that doesn’t mean we want to err on the side of forcing complete sentences for output before that is going to happen naturally, and it doesn’t mean that we reject answers that perfectly well convey meaning but are not complete sentences. Considering the way real people use real language, that would be bordering on the hypocritical.

So there is an element of the “fishing” skill here (“fishing” being the TPRS skill of asking for answers to an open-ended question and rejecting some of them). When we “fish”, we always honor the student’s answer, even if we know the second we hear it there is no way we would ever use that suggestion in class. (Inappropriate answers are an exception, of course — I am always talking about TPRS within the frame of appropriate classroom management, since ANY method of instruction has to fit inside that limit, and without that limit, it is difficult to effectively use any method of instruction.) It’s the same way with short answers.

When a student knows that the teacher is first and foremost focused on his meaning, rather than the form of what he’s saying, that’s when the magic happens. That’s why it’s called comprehensible input. Comprehensible means able to be understood, but what is being understood? MEANING. Meaning is central to TPRS. If we drift from meaning and start worrying too much about form in our interactions with students, we kill the relationships. As teachers we still do “worry” about form, but we do something about that by providing more rich input — “rich” meaning rich in the longer, more complex forms that students have not yet acquired, as evidenced by their inability to output them.

We have to fill the bucket of language before it can slop over the top. Long answers are no different. Patience and input equal proficiency.

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