Learn English

It's a common dilemma. Late-night roadblock, a foreigner pulled over, wondering whether he should try speaking Mandarin to curry favor or simply plow through in English and play dumb.

"No Mandarin!" yells Taipei patrolman Jack Lin, as if he were a lawyer.

"When they talk to you, don't answer anything," adds Hill Lu, a patrolman of 12 years who is sitting next to him. "Just speak English and you can go."

Lin, Lu, and a third colleague, Amy Chiou, are taking a break from their bi-weekly English classes. In an empty conference room on the second floor of a precinct station, they are having a little fun advising a foreigner on the dos and don'ts of roadblock etiquette -- and getting a chance to practice their English, too.

In a society sometimes preoccupied with learning the world's lingua franca, the police are also getting in on the action. Around 85 percent of the officers in Taipei want to improve their language skills, says Kay Chou, an administrator at the bushiban that set up the in-precinct tutoring for the trio. "But most don't do it at the stationhouse," she says. "They can be a little embarrassed about their need to take classes, so they do it a little more inconspicuously at bushibans like Global Village (地球村) and ELSI (科見美語)."

"Nearly every police officer in Taiwan wants to learn English," concurs Emily Wu, a spokeswoman for the Central Police University (警察大學) in Taoyuan. "But most don't take classes because they don't have enough time," she says.

A step above the police academy, the Central Police University is the institution responsible for training every police officer in Taiwan. Jing Da (警大) -- the school's nickname -- offers two main courses of study, a four-year program to train rookies and a two-year program for active officers.

Lin, a slender man of 34 years who keeps his ballooning pants cinched high above his waist with a shiny leather belt, came on to the police force directly after high school. By doing so, he circumvented most of his military service.

Lin now walks a standard beat, patrolling one sector of the city on foot and dealing mostly with "some troublemakers who've had too much to drink." But after 13 years as a beat cop, he hopes to move up in the ranks. That's why he's studying English.

Like every college in Taiwan, Central Police University accepts students based on a qualifying exam, namely the dreaded lian kao (聯考). Every year, between 6,000 and 8,000 applicants take the test that only around 200 of them will pass, and thereby advance along the road to promotion.

For officers like Lin, Lu, and Chiou, the lian kao is the single mighty obstacle that stands between pounding the pavement and the administrative positions they hope to attain. "The salary is not that much higher, but you have more power," says Lu, adding, "If you work really hard but don't pass the test to get into Central Police University, you won't get anywhere."

On account of the test's English section, Lin has already failed the exam three times. Lu and Chiou have both failed twice. Though they are full of wistful sighs when it comes to their paper and ink adversary, they still keep a sense of humor about it. "If you don't pass, you can always take the exam again next year," says Lu.

But there's more to it than that. For the trio, who say their main use for English is giving directions to foreign tourists, the need to study the language exists mostly as a bewildering paradox. The program in which they hope to enroll at Central Police University requires only four credit hours in English in a 72-credit program.