何翹森

葉子南

A ? ? teacher of English at Shaoxing No.1 ? High School， Mr. He Qiaosen was quite a celebrity among English learners and instructors alike. Mention of his name often evoked admiration. A graduate from Hangchow University， he became its provost around 1950. He was also said to have had a teaching stint at a college in Shanxi. His academic credentials could have landed him in a college teaching position anyway. What was unclear was how he ended up teaching high school in a town outside the provincial capital. If you are familiar with recent Chinese history， you may think of some familiar culprits that spelled misfortune for a sizable portion of the intelligentsia. Was his banishment from a college campus a result of a political purge？ I’m not sure. After the “Cultural Revolution”， there was word going around that his college position might be reinstated. But he somehow stayed put in Shaoxing， perhaps falling victim to academic parochialism.

I cannot recall how I got in touch with Mr. He. By mail， most probably， as there were no telephone lines in private homes back then. I made an appointment to see him at the school where he taught. He lived in the teachers’ dormitory. It was a cold and overcast day. I don’t remember whether it was early spring or late fall. After asking for direction near the school gate， I soon found myself in front of his dorm. Feeling honored， I tried to calm myself down for a few seconds before knocking on the door.

The door opened slowly， and right in front of me emerged Mr. He， a bespectacled gentleman of medium height in his fifties， his movements neither swift nor slow. After a brief exchange of greetings—in Mandarin or possibly in the Shaoxing dialect， he ushered me into his room， a cold and dark room with barely any furniture in it. It was not small， and quite deep， but didn’t feel spacious. You just couldn’t imagine how it was possible that a renowned scholar should be living in such a wretched place.

After we sat down， our conversation naturally turned to how to learn English. I was about 18， perhaps too young for him to share his life’s ups and downs with. Even if I had been mature enough， he wouldn’t have been more inclined to deviate from the topic of language learning. The “Cultural Revolution” had sent chills down almost everybody’s spine， leaving all and sundry reeling in fear and constantly on guard. You wouldn’t expect a man who had been rocked by rounds of political turmoil to be an exception. I did express my dismay at not being able to go to college. All schools were closed， and no one knew when they would reopen. To assuage my frustration， he explained that a college education was “not the only pebble on the beach”， using an English phrase， meaning that college wasn’t the only ticket to success and there were other things I could take a shot at. The key， he added， was perseverance. I was touched by his sincerity.

That day， we basically talked about more general things without getting into the weeds of language points. After that， I was in no mood to pay him another visit， overwhelmed by uncertainty in life.

After the “Cultural Revolution”， I enrolled in Hangzhou University’s foreign language program. By then Mr. He had retired. I still faintly remember visiting him at his apartment in Hangzhou， and seeing his grandchild there. But the topics of our conversation that day have been largely erased from my memory.

To be honest， my few brief meetings with him didn’t really amount to tutoring sessions. Calling him my mentor would be an overstatement. But in those turbulent times when I felt lost， I was truly indebted to his graciousness to see me， give me advice， rekindle my love for language learning， and rebuild my confidence in the future. Throughout my life’s journey， I’ve no lack of benefactors， and Mr. He might not mind if I count him among them.

何翹森先生是紹興一中的外語老師，在當(dāng)?shù)赝庹Z界1很有名氣。一次我和楊源老師2提起何先生，他馬上豎起大拇指。何先生原來是之江大學(xué)畢業(yè)的，一九五零年前后好像在之江大學(xué)擔(dān)任過教務(wù)長。也有人說，他曾在山西的一所大學(xué)當(dāng)過教授3。按照那樣的資歷，他本該在高校任教，但卻在省城外的一個縣城當(dāng)中學(xué)老師，這其中的原委我不清楚。了解那段中國歷史的人也許會想到那個讓知識分子倒霉的事件，何老師是否也因政治因素而被趕出大學(xué)？我不得而知。后來還聽說，“文革”結(jié)束后，有人想到何翹森，覺得應(yīng)該讓他回大學(xué)任教，但他卻一直待在紹興一中4。我猜想，回大學(xué)不成可能還是與文人相輕、門戶之見有關(guān)吧5？

忘了是怎么聯(lián)系上何先生的，可能是通過寫信，因當(dāng)時個人并沒有電話。我們約好在紹興一中他的宿舍6見面。我已經(jīng)記不清是哪年哪月去見他的，只覺得天氣陰寒，但記不起那是早春的寒氣，還是晚秋的陰冷。走進學(xué)校后，一經(jīng)打聽，便找到了他的宿舍。我在他的房門前佇立片刻7，心中有一種程門立雪的感覺。

房門慢慢打開，溫文爾雅的翹森先生已站在我面前。他看上去五十多歲，個子不高，戴一副眼鏡，舉止不急不緩8，已記不清我們是用方言還是普通話寒暄的。宿舍堪稱寒舍，沒什么家具，室內(nèi)陰冷，房間雖不算小，但呈狹長狀，無開闊感，沒有想到一位大教授級的人物9竟住在這樣簡陋的地方！

他邀我坐下10，馬上便侃侃而談，話題自然是英語學(xué)習(xí)。也許是因為我當(dāng)時年齡還?。ㄊ藲q左右），他并沒和我閑談學(xué)習(xí)外的事。其實就算我是個十足的成年人，他也未必會和我談自己身世的沉浮11?！拔母铩币呀?jīng)把人弄得驚恐萬狀，一般人12都相互提防，更何況是一位閱盡政治風(fēng)波的人。我和他談到人生的機遇，覺得可惜，無緣去大學(xué)深造，因為當(dāng)時學(xué)校都關(guān)閉了，也不知何時能恢復(fù)正常。他看出了我的迷茫，語重心長13地說，英語中有個成語not the only pebble on the beach，表示不管是人還是事，眼前失去的未必是唯一的機會，仍會有其他選擇，并鼓勵我不要放棄。

那次拜訪基本是泛泛而談，沒有涉及具體的英語學(xué)習(xí)14。那之后，我自己的生活歷經(jīng)波折，也就沒有心境再去拜訪他了。

“文革”結(jié)束后，我到杭州大學(xué)外語系讀書，此時何翹森先生已經(jīng)退休。我依稀記得在上大學(xué)時，曾到杭州市公安局旁邊15他的寓所拜訪過他一次，好像還見到過他的孫輩，相互講了些什么就一點印象都沒有了。

說實話，我和何先生僅有一兩次短暫的接觸，并未從他那里得到具體的指教16，稱他為我的老師未免過分。但是，在那個社會動蕩、個人迷茫17的時代，他撥冗見我，為我指點方向，喚起我對語言的熱情，鼓起我對未來的信心，僅這些已讓我受益匪淺。一路走來，有不少提攜幫助過我的人，翹森先生不會怪罪我把他也算在其中吧？