If you're a foreigner, I know your Chinese isn't very good. In fact, it's probably horrible. Maybe it should even be described with expletives.

True or not, that's how you'll tell me it is. It's the universal response to the mention of a foreigner's Mandarin, whether you translate research on molecular biology or forget the word for "three".

Actually, I think your Chinese is great, and there's good reason you should, too.

Your declaration that your Chinese is dreadful is almost certainly heartfelt. Those with low levels usually know it. But those who have mastered some Mandarin find the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know.

So the better your Chinese gets, the worse you feel it is.

I spoke much better Chinese after studying for two months than after two years - at least it feels that way.

Most foreigners board a China-bound plane as adults and disembark as infants, in terms of communicative abilities. I remember the day I regressed from age 22 to 2 during a single flight. When I stepped off the plane, I couldn't speak or understand what the "adults" were saying, let alone read or write.

From that point, everyone makes baby steps toward becoming toddlers - linguistically speaking - able to communicate daily needs. Some continue developing into young children, and then teens, and a special few mature into adulthood.

But throughout the process, they feel their Chinese is dismal, with the adults feeling smaller and less mature than the toddlers. This exponentially growing inferiority complex is good in that it pushes foreigners to persist with putonghua. But it works the other way, too.

Self-criticism is perhaps the best source of self-improvement. But diving too deep and spending too long submerged in this well of inspiration for self-betterment can also drown one's spirit for it.