Tic-Tac-Toe

Sometimes it's hard to know what is truly common knowledge, spanning generational and racial divides, and it isn't until you wind up far beyond the confines of "your world" that you begin to question all of your assumptions.

For example, up until today I had assumed that everyone in the world knew how to play tic-tac-toe.  It seems so simple and elegant that it would be something that would have vaulted cultural lines with the ease of Parisian driver hopping the curb.  Yet, as it turns out, this was one of my little assumptions that was wrong, and I learned so in my special little cultural purgatory; State-run, mandatory French civics lessons.

This is not my first encounter with such State enforced learning during my time here, I have had to attend other such courses.  However, this one was it's own special brand of inane and ridiculous. 

As one would expect the class is composed of immigrants to France (to which I think I have mistakenly been lumped into, but that's another story), and as such languages spoken vary as widely as the backgrounds.  In previous classes there was a large enough contingent of Turks to warrant their own translator.  Today however was a more common French & English session.

Roughly 2/3 of the room could speak French, while the remainder were English speakers of various degrees.  The room was segregated to facilitate an easier addressing in English to those who needed it.  In previous classes the instructor pulled double duty, doing the French explanation for each powerpoint slide, then a summary (albeit seemingly much briefer than the French explanation) in English.  This class was apparently large enough to warrant a separate English speaking translator.

I use the term "English speaking" rather loosely in this case. 

Immediately it was plain that the presenter was of Indian decent and had the typical sort of English that is spoken by an Indian born speaker who learned English later in life and has trouble with the English syntax and structure.  I didn't mind that though, since her spoken English is still far better than my French comprehension. 

At first it was cute, since phrases like "The Germany occupied France in 1940 when The Hitler attacked" colored her translations, but it quickly devolved into sheer frustration.  Not because of a language barrier, but because of an effort barrier. The translator felt comfortable translating things contextually (the context being her own knowledge), and with a tone of contempt (as though we should already know all this!)  if she decided to translate anything at all.

This frustrated the English speakers at first and they constantly pelted her with questions, attempting to actually learn what was being presented.  These efforts quickly dwindled until all that remained was the same contempt she was putting out.

Since there is no exam at the end of these sessions, no method of testing learning, retention or the effect of the lesson, all one has to do is endure until the end of the day to receive their certificate.  This was when tic-tac-toe came into play.

My notebook for the day, like all the best notebooks, was a grid paper notebook.  I drew a small tic-tac-toe board on the bottom corner of my notebook and slid it over to the woman next to me.  We had met at the previous class and she recognized me again this class, and sat beside me.  We hadn't actually spoken much beyond her borrowing a pen in the previous class, but in a room full of immigrants any familiar face is a friendly face.

She looked at the small grid I had drawn and cocked her head to the side.  I took this to mean she didn't know what it was, so I drew an X in the middle square and gestured to her.  She realized it was a game of some sort, but didn't know it.   This was a shock to me, as it seemed like the sort of thing every kid learns along the way through childhood.   Apparently not in Cambodia.

Her English was very limited, so I proceeded to teach her that game without speaking a single word.  As a game designer this is both a thrill and a small bit of professional insight presenting itself.  The rules of the game are incredibly simple, but explaining them through gesture and example could become complicated, so it required careful thought before each example or gesture.

I proceeded to play an example game against myself as she watched, giving time for her to see my marks on the page as I made them, and draw little bits of feedback to show what the goal was.

The example game concluded and I drew another grid, gesturing for her to make the first mark.  We played a few games and it was clear she didn't understand why this was supposed to be fun, since all of our first few games ended in a tied game.  I managed to sneak a win by her and her eyes lit up with an expression that clearly said "How did that happen?"

She stopped and thought carefully before she finally spoke, quietly under the lecture, saying "the shape is too small, can it play bigger?".  She was expressing a frustration with the speed at which games concluded, the lack of any serious strategy and the draws the game that our games routinely concluded in, I knew this immediately.  Yet, despite my profession, I must admit that I had no answer for her since I myself had never bothered to try playing on a larger grid size.

She took my pause in response correctly, understanding that I didn't know and she went ahead and drew a four by four board.  We played it and both silently agreed that this configuration was un-fun.  She drew the next board back in the standard three by three configuration, scored a victory and was jazzed.

Despite the game's inherent simplicity and lack of depth, we played happily for an hour or so, with the din of untranslated French history filling the background.

The class drew to a close and we both parted ways without notice.  Happy to be free of the classroom purgatory and reclaim what little remained of the day.