While people around her ate lunch, Na Yeon Choi sat digesting English vocabulary. In the clubhouse at last week's Navistar LPGA Classic, Choi was bent over a workbook with her pen poised, pondering how to use the word stereotype in a sentence. More than one public perception was challenged at the sight of Choi, the world's sixth-ranked women's golfer, inside on an afternoon tailor-made for golf practicing her English through a cross-cultural LPGA program. Choi, 22, was a tour rookie in 2008 when the LPGA proposed penalties and suspensions for players unable to communicate in English, a tin-eared turn at assimilation that was swiftly abandoned after a public outcry. A tour at the fore of globalization was made to look parochial, a wobble that soon contributed to the resignation of LPGA Commissioner Carolyn Bivens. The controversy trained a spotlight on the South Koreans -- for their dominance on tour and their reluctance to speak English in public. Languages are like greens: Each has nuances, and boldness sometimes results in embarrassment. The South Korean players became shyer after a profile of Kyeong Bae in a Canadian newspaper this summer in which she referred to the cartoon character SpongeBob SquarePants as 'Spongie Bob.' Choi shuddered in sympathy. Like many of the non-Americans on the tour, if she cannot speak perfect English, she prefers not speak at all. Choi relies on her caddie to help her read the way a putt breaks. For help with the subtleties of English, she turned to Martin George, whose Language Training Center, based in Indianapolis, entered into a partnership with the LPGA this year. George, the company president, and another instructor, Erica Tomasik, travel with the tour, tutoring players one on one in clubhouses or hotel lobbies or through video conferences. Commissioner Michael Whan likened the program, which was in place when he started in January, to one he in which he participated as an employee of Procter & Gamble two decades ago when it was extending its reach to the Far East. 'This may feel like an LPGA thing, but it's really a business thing,' Whan said, adding: 'I don't really consider it a language program. I consider it a cross-cultural program.' He said players learn that signing autographs is not the same everywhere. Chitchat matters more to fans in Toledo; they want only the signature in Thailand, Whan said, adding, 'It's good for business for the players to recognize things like that.' At his first tournament, in March in Carlsbad, Calif., George said, he was unsure what kind of reception he would receive. 'I was told, 'You may have no students,'' he recalled with a chuckle. George ended up working with three golfers. Through word of mouth, the number of players using the service has grown to more than two dozen, including one American, Vicky Hurst, who is studying Korean, her mother's native language. One of George's students, In-Kyung Kim, recently finished Andre Agassi's autobiography, 'Open,' which she read at George's suggestion. 'It was really well written,' said Kim, who met with George last week after the pro-am. As Kim was speaking, one of her amateur partners asked if she would autograph his hat. They exchanged small talk for a minute as George looked on. The ability of the golfers to connect with their playing partners in the lucrative pro-ams is considered vital for the tour's bottom line, and yet George e-mailed later to say, 'Most of the players don't know how important that type of engagement is to their careers.' Unlike the tour's traveling day care center, the mobile language lab does not have a sponsor to absorb the costs. The players pay $40 an hour. 'When players are investing their own resources, they tend to take it more serious,' said Sean Pyun, the LPGA manager for international development and member services, adding, 'It's really amazing how quickly the program has evolved in a short time.' Other languages may be added next year. The Americans Morgan Pressel and Paula Creamer have expressed a desire to hone their Spanish. Beatriz Recari, a rookie from Spain, is interested in Mandarin but is immersed in Japanese. As Recari conversed in Japanese for an hour last week with Tomasik, the subject turned to the NFL. Recari's favorite team, she said, is the Miami Dolphins, though she acknowledged they had not played well in a loss to the New England Patriots a few days earlier. As they talked, Tomasik introduced tenses and words and used them in sentences that Recari repeated. Recari, who is bubbly in any language, learned English at the age of 5 and also speaks French and Norwegian in addition to Spanish. 'My first year on tour, in Europe, I studied economics,' she said. 'But then I chose golf over schooling, and I was missing a lot that student part of me. This nurtures me as a person, and it helps me develop my left brain like when I was studying economics.' Recari also learned that the proper way to respond in Japanese when presented with a gift is to apologize for the giver's considerable effort. Ai Miyazato, who is from Japan, has been ranked No. 1 for eight consecutive weeks in a year with much jockeying to fill the void at the top created by the abrupt retirement of Lorena Ochoa. In one-on-one conversations, Miyazato, 25, speaks English without a trace of self-consciousness, repeatedly addressing the other person by name to build rapport. She began working with George not so much to build her vocabulary but her confidence. When asked at weekly tour interview sessions how it feels to be No. 1, Miyazato said that she wished to convey so much more -- satisfaction, anxiety, excitement -- but that under the spotlight, words, tenses and sentence structure often eluded her. At the Navistar LPGA Classic, as elsewhere, she started a pretournament interview speaking English and ended it with her manager, Takumi Zaoya, translating her answers from Japanese to English. 'I feel like my English is still not enough,' a chagrined Miyazato said. 'I want the people to get to know me a little, but I get nervous.' News conferences, in which the players sit onstage and speak into a microphone, are daunting. 'I like this table for talking better than the media center,' Choi said in the clubhouse, with a grand sweep of her hand. In addition to carrying a spiral notebook and workbook, she keeps transcripts of some news conferences. George has encouraged her not to refer to them, but Choi, in her small, neat printing, has made corrections. One answer in particular still gnaws at her. At the 2009 Samsung World Championship in San Diego, Choi posted her first LPGA victory. But that is not what sticks in her mind. Asked to describe her 63 in the third round, the lowest score of her career, Choi said, 'I feel almost perfect everything.' Afterward, she said, she fled to the restroom in embarrassment. Last week, she pointed to the page where she had written what she meant to say: 'I feel everything was perfect.' 'I did wrong answer,' she said. 'I disappointed myself.' Choi has expressed a desire to continue her lessons by video conference during the off-season. The impression she leaves is that she will not stop until her English is flawless. 'Ambition' was another of her vocabulary words. Using it in a sentence, Choi wrote, 'My ambition is to be the best person I can be.' 