It's been a while but I've been busy with work. Busy season just ended at PwC and it was really tough for me for a few reasons but one in particular. My grandfather, on my mother's side, passed away in late July.
I got an email from my mom on a Friday right after lunch; felt like throwing up. I didn't know how to deal with it so I stayed at work and finished the day. Couldn't focus on anything and I didn't tell anybody cause didn't know how. A memory of my grandfather kept replaying in my head after that day; it was a really good memory. Something that only I know about him.
My grandparents on my mother's side all live in a village called Yangquan about 2 hours outside the city where I grew up and we used to go visit them every now and then. The house is a flat one story structure surrounding a courtyard on three sides. The roof is accessible from the back via stairs near the outhouse (bathroom). When I was there the roof was a forbidden zone; no kids allowed. It was a great mystery that filled my my innocent brain with wild possibilities.
In China people take naps after lunch, kind of like siestas in Spain. One day after lunch, when everyone else was asleep, my grandfather grabbed my hand and told me to come with him. He quietly led me to the outhouse stairs and up to the roof. I couldn't believe it!!! My grandpa was a rebel. He let go of my hand and I let my wild imagination fly. For the next 10 minutes my arms turned into the wings of an airplane and my mouth became the powerful, loud engine pushing the plane through the air. For a few moments I flew over the small village of Yangquan and on to the city and through the rivers. For a few moments I felt completely free and unencumbered by arbitrary rules adults set forth. I was FLYING. I felt truly happy.
My grandpa watched with a big smile on his face, giving me enough space to roam but also attentively watching. He was probably afraid that my youthful exuberance would carry me off the roof and on to the concrete floors below, or that I would actually believe I could fly and jump off like R. Kelly would. But I WAS flying, I really believed it at that moment. I can't remember coming down from the roof or that moment ending; I guess I don't want to remember. In my memory that moment never ended. I can still feel the wind rushing through my hair, the crisp rural air in my lungs and the joy I felt up on that roof. He is gone now and all I have left are memories like this. But it's all I really need.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Philly Adventures: Wawa
If you have been around me for the past few years I probably have mentioned Wawa to you and described how awesome it is. There's a reason I love the convenient store so much and it might not be what you think. In case you don't know here's a link to their website. You can see how great it is.
So when I first came to the US I hung out with my dad all the time because he was searching for a job for the first 6 months or so. School had ended and it was summer time so my dad looked after me for the summer. I brought my roller blades from China and wanted to keep skating. My skills were improving and I really enjoyed it, so my dad would take me to Washington Square near Independence Hall almost everyday to skate. While I skated he would sit on a bench and read the Chinese newspaper. Sometimes I would chase squirrels and pigeons. When I was done skating we would walk to where my mom works and sit around that area. There's a field outside of the building where she worked and we would hang out there.
Usually this was around the time I got hungry and, what do you know, there was a Wawa around the corner. We were the cost saving immigrants so buying Wawa sandwiches and sodas was a bit too expensive at the time but there were Hot Dogs for $1. So everyday we would enter that Wawa and I would get a hot dog with ketchup. It was something I looked forward to everyday without fail. Wawa became the hot dog place and it wasn't until I was a little older that I realized I could buy other things from there.
I admit, Wawa's food is average. It's not as hyped up as I make it out to be and anyone expecting something more will surely be disappointed. I'm a simple man, with simple tastes so Wawa's good enough for me. But I go there because it's that childhood store that I always went to. I love it so much because it fed my childish appetite for hot dogs and created that simple memory of having a really small picnic with my dad everyday. It has become a habit and old habits die hard.
So when I first came to the US I hung out with my dad all the time because he was searching for a job for the first 6 months or so. School had ended and it was summer time so my dad looked after me for the summer. I brought my roller blades from China and wanted to keep skating. My skills were improving and I really enjoyed it, so my dad would take me to Washington Square near Independence Hall almost everyday to skate. While I skated he would sit on a bench and read the Chinese newspaper. Sometimes I would chase squirrels and pigeons. When I was done skating we would walk to where my mom works and sit around that area. There's a field outside of the building where she worked and we would hang out there.
Usually this was around the time I got hungry and, what do you know, there was a Wawa around the corner. We were the cost saving immigrants so buying Wawa sandwiches and sodas was a bit too expensive at the time but there were Hot Dogs for $1. So everyday we would enter that Wawa and I would get a hot dog with ketchup. It was something I looked forward to everyday without fail. Wawa became the hot dog place and it wasn't until I was a little older that I realized I could buy other things from there.
I admit, Wawa's food is average. It's not as hyped up as I make it out to be and anyone expecting something more will surely be disappointed. I'm a simple man, with simple tastes so Wawa's good enough for me. But I go there because it's that childhood store that I always went to. I love it so much because it fed my childish appetite for hot dogs and created that simple memory of having a really small picnic with my dad everyday. It has become a habit and old habits die hard.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Philly Adventures: First Christmas
'Tis the season. Christmas has come and gone but it has rekindled some old memories of living in Philly and of course, my first Christmas experience.
It was December 2000, Christmas was just around the corner. My mother told me that people get presents on Christmas from a fat guy named Santa and that was all I needed to know. Didn't care about all this Jesus Christ stuff, does he give presents on Christmas?? NO (the answer is YES, but try to explain that to a 9 year-old immigrant kid). I knew that Santa wasn't real, but I played along with my parents' stories. That first year in Philly was filled with surprises, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas...no wonder the US is fat. But no matter, I enjoyed myself and got fat, too, haha.
Just like any other kid, I had my eyes set on a toy, for me it was a box of Dominos (not the pizza) at the Big K-Mart in the Gallery Mall. If you are from Philly, you know that the Gallery is a great place to shop...haha. Actually, it's a very ghetto place, but we didn't understand that and everything in K-Mart was cheap so the reputation of the mall didn't matter much. I told my mother that I wanted a set of Dominos. I don't know why I wanted it so much; I should have asked for Power Rangers' action figures or something. So my mother bought a set and told me that we were visiting a family friend in NYC and needed to give their daughter this present. Shit...ok fine. I didn't really care too much because I didn't expect to get it. Money was tight and I understood that.
So we went to NYC and gave the Dominos away to the girl (I don't think she liked it that much). We came home Christmas Eve and spent the day at home. The next morning my mother woke me up and told me to go see if Santa dropped off any presents. So I did, albeit reluctantly and unconvincingly. I walked into the living room cautiously hopeful, not wanting to be too disappointed. And then I saw it, there on the window sill was a box wrapped up in festive Christmas wrapping paper (we didn't have a tree). I took it and ran back into the bedroom (we shared a small bedroom in the apartment) and showed my parents. So I proceeded to rip the wrapping paper and out came the set of Dominos!!!!!!!!!!!! Words cannot explain my excitement. I didn't even know how to play Dominos, haha, but it didn't matter. I was ecstatic.
I told my mother, "Maybe Santa is real." And for that moment I really believed it.
It was December 2000, Christmas was just around the corner. My mother told me that people get presents on Christmas from a fat guy named Santa and that was all I needed to know. Didn't care about all this Jesus Christ stuff, does he give presents on Christmas?? NO (the answer is YES, but try to explain that to a 9 year-old immigrant kid). I knew that Santa wasn't real, but I played along with my parents' stories. That first year in Philly was filled with surprises, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas...no wonder the US is fat. But no matter, I enjoyed myself and got fat, too, haha.
Just like any other kid, I had my eyes set on a toy, for me it was a box of Dominos (not the pizza) at the Big K-Mart in the Gallery Mall. If you are from Philly, you know that the Gallery is a great place to shop...haha. Actually, it's a very ghetto place, but we didn't understand that and everything in K-Mart was cheap so the reputation of the mall didn't matter much. I told my mother that I wanted a set of Dominos. I don't know why I wanted it so much; I should have asked for Power Rangers' action figures or something. So my mother bought a set and told me that we were visiting a family friend in NYC and needed to give their daughter this present. Shit...ok fine. I didn't really care too much because I didn't expect to get it. Money was tight and I understood that.
So we went to NYC and gave the Dominos away to the girl (I don't think she liked it that much). We came home Christmas Eve and spent the day at home. The next morning my mother woke me up and told me to go see if Santa dropped off any presents. So I did, albeit reluctantly and unconvincingly. I walked into the living room cautiously hopeful, not wanting to be too disappointed. And then I saw it, there on the window sill was a box wrapped up in festive Christmas wrapping paper (we didn't have a tree). I took it and ran back into the bedroom (we shared a small bedroom in the apartment) and showed my parents. So I proceeded to rip the wrapping paper and out came the set of Dominos!!!!!!!!!!!! Words cannot explain my excitement. I didn't even know how to play Dominos, haha, but it didn't matter. I was ecstatic.
I told my mother, "Maybe Santa is real." And for that moment I really believed it.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Philly Adventures: First Halloween
It's been awhile but I had some time today to write and I was reminiscing about the old days. Let me tell you about my first Halloween experience. In case you forgot, this series is to recount the experiences I had my first few years in the States.
It was going to be Halloween soon, and by this time I had been in school almost 1 year and my English was getting pretty good. I understood what Halloween was by hearing about it in school. So basically, you dress up like something scary and get candy...can you imagine the excitement that went through my mind? I was 9 years old, this is the best news anyone could have told me. At first I thought this was a cruel joke that my teacher was playing on the class, but after asking my classmates I realized this was a real American holiday.
A few days before Halloween I was walking with my parents, going home from the grocery store (very close to the Magic Gardens). As I was walking I looked down and saw a $10 bill. Wow!!!! I picked it up and showed my parents. We didn't have much money back then and I didn't get any allowances (another weird concept of American culture that was foreign to me) so this $10 was a big deal. What should I buy with it? Well, it was Halloween and I didn't have a costume. So we went to K-Mart and I bought a skull mask, a sword and bucket (I still have the mask and used it for the next 5 Halloweens) all for about $8.
Now that I had my costume I was ready to go! But where? We didn't know where the candy would be, but we knew where all the people were going to be: South Street. If you don't know, South Street is the party street of Philadelphia, with night clubs, retailers, bars, restaurants, etc. Hardly the appropriate place for kids to get candy...but we didn't know these things. The next few occurrences I did not understand until I got older, but you will all understand. Keep in mind it was my first Halloween and I did not know the etiquette of trick or treating.
As we entered South Street there were a few apartment complexes so it was smooth sailing. After walking down 2 more blocks we found the party. First occurrence: I saw a guy sitting outside an apartment door with a brown plastic bag in his hand and a smoke in the other. I figured this guy was there to give candy so I went up to him and said, "Trick or Treat." He looked at me for a few seconds and laughed so I tried again, "Trick or treat." He ignored me. I tried again and this time he reached into his wallet, pulled out a $1 bill and put it in my bucket. I thought they only gave candy on Halloween. I was confused but he said, "Happy Halloween, kid. Now get outta here." So I moved on.
Second occurrence: I walked into a Chinese restaurant and went to the counter. "Trick or Treat." This did not work. The three workers behind the counter stared at me with blank faces. One was on the phone but the other 2 just stared. "Trick or treat." Not knowing what to do, I just stood and waited. "Trick or treat." Nothing happened...then suddenly one guy reached down and slid 3 fortune cookies to me. My first through was, "Finally! I just wanted candy!" My second thought was, "What the hell did he just give me?" This was my first exposure to fortune cookies.
Third occurrence: As I walked down the street I saw a woman dressed in a very small dress showing off a lot of skin standing outside a door that had purple neon lights all over it. I figured she was in her Halloween costume and giving out candy so, "Trick or Treat!" She looked at me in confusion and said that she was sorry and didn't have any candy. I didn't buy it, "Why?" She said, "Why am I here? I don't even have candy. I should just go inside." But she didn't, she just laughed and my parents pushed me forward. This was probably the most confusing occurrence.
Fourth occurrence: I walked into a Radio Shack. The store looked colorful and I figured they must have candy. It was packed with people but one guy was free so I said, "Trick or Treat." He said, "We are not giving candy...instead we are giving these Jetson Clocks." I still have that clock.
Fifth occurrence: A drunk black guy came up to us and started asking if we were Japanese. My parents said we weren't and tried to walk away but the guy kept up. I was pretty scared and confused. The guy kept talking to us and I didn't know what to do. Then I thought, this guy just wants to give me candy so I said, "Trick or Treat." Of course he didn't have any candy and some people around us were telling him to leave us alone so he walked away.
Last occurrence: At the end of the night as we were walking home we came across one of the last houses with Halloween lights. I rang the door bell and said, "Trick or Treat." A white man opened the door and behind him an Asian lady held a basket of candy. I took one and backed off. They said, "Take more." So I dug my small 9 year old hands into the basket and grabbed as much candy as I could and transferred them into my bucket. I must of grabbed half the basket. They laughed and wished me happy Halloween.
Thus ended my first Halloween. I got $1 bill, three fortune cookies, a Jetson clock, encounters with a stripper and 2 drunk men, and a crap load of candy. I did pretty well.
It was going to be Halloween soon, and by this time I had been in school almost 1 year and my English was getting pretty good. I understood what Halloween was by hearing about it in school. So basically, you dress up like something scary and get candy...can you imagine the excitement that went through my mind? I was 9 years old, this is the best news anyone could have told me. At first I thought this was a cruel joke that my teacher was playing on the class, but after asking my classmates I realized this was a real American holiday.
A few days before Halloween I was walking with my parents, going home from the grocery store (very close to the Magic Gardens). As I was walking I looked down and saw a $10 bill. Wow!!!! I picked it up and showed my parents. We didn't have much money back then and I didn't get any allowances (another weird concept of American culture that was foreign to me) so this $10 was a big deal. What should I buy with it? Well, it was Halloween and I didn't have a costume. So we went to K-Mart and I bought a skull mask, a sword and bucket (I still have the mask and used it for the next 5 Halloweens) all for about $8.
Now that I had my costume I was ready to go! But where? We didn't know where the candy would be, but we knew where all the people were going to be: South Street. If you don't know, South Street is the party street of Philadelphia, with night clubs, retailers, bars, restaurants, etc. Hardly the appropriate place for kids to get candy...but we didn't know these things. The next few occurrences I did not understand until I got older, but you will all understand. Keep in mind it was my first Halloween and I did not know the etiquette of trick or treating.
As we entered South Street there were a few apartment complexes so it was smooth sailing. After walking down 2 more blocks we found the party. First occurrence: I saw a guy sitting outside an apartment door with a brown plastic bag in his hand and a smoke in the other. I figured this guy was there to give candy so I went up to him and said, "Trick or Treat." He looked at me for a few seconds and laughed so I tried again, "Trick or treat." He ignored me. I tried again and this time he reached into his wallet, pulled out a $1 bill and put it in my bucket. I thought they only gave candy on Halloween. I was confused but he said, "Happy Halloween, kid. Now get outta here." So I moved on.
Second occurrence: I walked into a Chinese restaurant and went to the counter. "Trick or Treat." This did not work. The three workers behind the counter stared at me with blank faces. One was on the phone but the other 2 just stared. "Trick or treat." Not knowing what to do, I just stood and waited. "Trick or treat." Nothing happened...then suddenly one guy reached down and slid 3 fortune cookies to me. My first through was, "Finally! I just wanted candy!" My second thought was, "What the hell did he just give me?" This was my first exposure to fortune cookies.
Third occurrence: As I walked down the street I saw a woman dressed in a very small dress showing off a lot of skin standing outside a door that had purple neon lights all over it. I figured she was in her Halloween costume and giving out candy so, "Trick or Treat!" She looked at me in confusion and said that she was sorry and didn't have any candy. I didn't buy it, "Why?" She said, "Why am I here? I don't even have candy. I should just go inside." But she didn't, she just laughed and my parents pushed me forward. This was probably the most confusing occurrence.
Fourth occurrence: I walked into a Radio Shack. The store looked colorful and I figured they must have candy. It was packed with people but one guy was free so I said, "Trick or Treat." He said, "We are not giving candy...instead we are giving these Jetson Clocks." I still have that clock.
Fifth occurrence: A drunk black guy came up to us and started asking if we were Japanese. My parents said we weren't and tried to walk away but the guy kept up. I was pretty scared and confused. The guy kept talking to us and I didn't know what to do. Then I thought, this guy just wants to give me candy so I said, "Trick or Treat." Of course he didn't have any candy and some people around us were telling him to leave us alone so he walked away.
Last occurrence: At the end of the night as we were walking home we came across one of the last houses with Halloween lights. I rang the door bell and said, "Trick or Treat." A white man opened the door and behind him an Asian lady held a basket of candy. I took one and backed off. They said, "Take more." So I dug my small 9 year old hands into the basket and grabbed as much candy as I could and transferred them into my bucket. I must of grabbed half the basket. They laughed and wished me happy Halloween.
Thus ended my first Halloween. I got $1 bill, three fortune cookies, a Jetson clock, encounters with a stripper and 2 drunk men, and a crap load of candy. I did pretty well.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Philly Adventures: Ms. Castleberry
In fourth grade I came across my favorite teacher: Ms. Castleberry. The way I would describe her is a passionate strong black woman. I loved how she taught us and the way she encouraged us to do more. We were in fourth grade but she put forth all her effort to teach us all that we needed to know. She is also the no BS kind of teacher (my friend, Julia, wanted me to tone down the language so no cussing in this post). We kept a journal in that class to write down what we learned that day or how our weekend was. Sometimes she made us write in cursive just to challenge our writing. I was in ESL at the time so writing about anything was hard. I once asked a classmate how to spell 'news.' But the journaling forced me to use correct grammar and ask for new words. Her passion for teaching emanated through her enthusiasm every morning and her tireless smile at the end of the day.
She would often hold fun competitions in class and fundraisers for certain charities. The one event imprinted in my mind is the valentines day challenge. There was a jar filled with heart candies and we had to guess how many. It was 25 cents per guess, so I thought why not. I donated my quarter and guessed something like 1100. A week later the results were in. In total there were about 50 guesses. Ms. Feingold, my ESOL teacher, had the results in her hand. She played it off like she couldn't read the results, it was too difficult for her, and we begged her to reveal the winner. Please!!!!! We pleaded with her. And then she said the winner is...Ran!!!! She pointed at me and the whole class looked at me. Some cheered some were straight up shocked and some gave a face. I turned red like I always do. Crap, everyone was looking at me. That feeling from the first day of class came back to me and all I wanted to do was sprint away. I regretted ever taking a guess and paying my quarter. What prize would equate to such humiliation? A CD player. Now a days that sounds like a stupid gift, but at the time the only thing I've ever touched was a cassette tape and I thought that was sophisticated technology. I explained that I didn't have any CDs to Ms. Castleberry, but she encouraged me to keep the prize and share it with my family. So I went to K Mart and bought Nsync's No Strings Attached album which was extremely popular back then. Don't judge.
Another memory I have of her was when I had a severe nose bleed right before school ended for the day. I had blood dripping down my shirt. Ms. Castleberry held paper to my nose and escorted me through the hallways. She was freaked out by the blood but kept her hand on the paper. I had lost so much blood I felt dizzy so when I got to the nurse they gave me stuff to eat. Ms. Castleberry was pretty disgusted but never second guessed helping me out. To me she not only was an excellent teacher but she also cared dearly for all her students. Maybe I'm biased cause I won the cd player, but whatever. I miss her and my class. She is actually still at McCall Elementary along with my ESOL teacher Ms. Feingold. I'm glad they have job security; I heard a year ago that teachers were being laid off. Ms. Castleberry is actually now Ms. Pigford. I should pay her a visit sometime. Hopefully, she'll be proud.
She would often hold fun competitions in class and fundraisers for certain charities. The one event imprinted in my mind is the valentines day challenge. There was a jar filled with heart candies and we had to guess how many. It was 25 cents per guess, so I thought why not. I donated my quarter and guessed something like 1100. A week later the results were in. In total there were about 50 guesses. Ms. Feingold, my ESOL teacher, had the results in her hand. She played it off like she couldn't read the results, it was too difficult for her, and we begged her to reveal the winner. Please!!!!! We pleaded with her. And then she said the winner is...Ran!!!! She pointed at me and the whole class looked at me. Some cheered some were straight up shocked and some gave a face. I turned red like I always do. Crap, everyone was looking at me. That feeling from the first day of class came back to me and all I wanted to do was sprint away. I regretted ever taking a guess and paying my quarter. What prize would equate to such humiliation? A CD player. Now a days that sounds like a stupid gift, but at the time the only thing I've ever touched was a cassette tape and I thought that was sophisticated technology. I explained that I didn't have any CDs to Ms. Castleberry, but she encouraged me to keep the prize and share it with my family. So I went to K Mart and bought Nsync's No Strings Attached album which was extremely popular back then. Don't judge.
Another memory I have of her was when I had a severe nose bleed right before school ended for the day. I had blood dripping down my shirt. Ms. Castleberry held paper to my nose and escorted me through the hallways. She was freaked out by the blood but kept her hand on the paper. I had lost so much blood I felt dizzy so when I got to the nurse they gave me stuff to eat. Ms. Castleberry was pretty disgusted but never second guessed helping me out. To me she not only was an excellent teacher but she also cared dearly for all her students. Maybe I'm biased cause I won the cd player, but whatever. I miss her and my class. She is actually still at McCall Elementary along with my ESOL teacher Ms. Feingold. I'm glad they have job security; I heard a year ago that teachers were being laid off. Ms. Castleberry is actually now Ms. Pigford. I should pay her a visit sometime. Hopefully, she'll be proud.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Philly Adventures: General George A. McCall Elementary School
The greatest thing about moving across the world is a longer winter break and skipping a grade. I finished half of second grade in China and entered third grade in Philly after a month off from school. In January my parents sent me to McCall Elementary, about a fifteen minute walk from where we lived (707 9th and Bainbridge Street-Google map it). Most nerve racking moment I've ever experienced to date. That's why I remember it so well.
I walked into my third grade class and the teacher introduced me. She was a tall black woman with black curly hair and a serious demeanor. I dragged my broken black book bag across the classroom to my seat. The longest walk of my life. Everyone's eyes were on me. I can imagine what they were thinking. 'Who is this kid?' 'Another Asian kid?' 'Does he speak English?' I put my butt on my chair as soon as I could and tried to drift off into anonymity. They were going over multiplication tables that day. I've had this stuff memorized since the first grade. The question on the board was 3 x 5. Nobody knew what it was so I raised my hand and wrote in very small numbers 15. The teacher got up there and erased my answer!!!! WTFFFFFFFFF??? Do they do multiplication differently here? Was I wrong? What the hell kind of place is this? The teacher then wrote in very big numbers 15. Oh!! wow I panicked for nothing.
Later in the day I decided that I needed to try something. My mother had told me the day before that if there is one phrase I needed to know for school it was "May I go to the bathroom?" hahahaha, she got the grammar right, too. So I decided to try it out (I didn't even need to go). I raised my hand and asked. I can't even remember if I said it right, but it created a reaction. She called another Chinese kid up and gave me a brick with a number on it (our room number I later found out), and sent us on our way. I followed this kid down to the basement and the whole way I was thinking what the hell is this brick for? And did I ask the right thing? I asked him in Chinese if he was leading me to the bathroom, the kid did not speak Chinese
-____-. I was about as confused as an 8 year-old could be. Finally, in the basement we entered the boys' bathroom and that is where I saw urinals for the first time and toilets separated by walls and toilet paper available (mind blown). The kid was kind enough to show me how to use the urinals, not on purpose of course, he just needed to go and I followed his lead. Great, now I knew proper bathroom etiquette in American public schools; it wasn't much dissimilar from China, except you needed a pass, hence the brick. When I got back class ended and it was lunch time!
Lunch SUCKED! Now I know that it was penne pasta with meat sauce, juice and a bag of chocolate milk. The pasta came in a microwaveable container, so it wasn’t as fancy as it sounds. At first I thought they were steamed scallions. Who would eat such a thing? When I used my fork (which was also very foreign) the pasta just broke down. It had been steamed so much it dissolved if you touched it. I didn’t eat that day. Another weird thing in America culture is recess (they even have a cartoon dedicated to it). WTF?? We play in school? Wow, did I just die and go to heaven? We played tag and wall ball mostly. There weren’t anything else to do but we were pretty happy with it.
It turns out that the black teacher I had was a sub and the next day a white lady came in. Her name was Ms. S and we had to call her that. I was wondering why her name was Ms. S. I knew it was a letter in the alphabet so for a while I thought all teachers were called by a letter. Ms. S had these heavy earrings that dragged her ears down and you can see the holes being stretched out in her ears. Gross! She was very nice though. After a month Ms. Lane came in, our regular teacher. Apparently, Ms. S was also a sub. Ms. Lane had some kind of accident and the class welcomed her back enthusiastically. A week later she brought her dog into class. WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF?????????????????? This is when I decided that America is the oddest country in the world. The dog shit everywhere and took pisses on desk polls. Funniest thing I've ever seen. I learned nothing in third grade but assimilated to the culture and learned English. My ESOL teacher was awesome! She gave us prizes for reading small books and learning words. Those two years really helped. In fourth grade I had Ms. Castleberry. The best and most influential teacher I've ever had. You will learn about her soon.
I walked into my third grade class and the teacher introduced me. She was a tall black woman with black curly hair and a serious demeanor. I dragged my broken black book bag across the classroom to my seat. The longest walk of my life. Everyone's eyes were on me. I can imagine what they were thinking. 'Who is this kid?' 'Another Asian kid?' 'Does he speak English?' I put my butt on my chair as soon as I could and tried to drift off into anonymity. They were going over multiplication tables that day. I've had this stuff memorized since the first grade. The question on the board was 3 x 5. Nobody knew what it was so I raised my hand and wrote in very small numbers 15. The teacher got up there and erased my answer!!!! WTFFFFFFFFF??? Do they do multiplication differently here? Was I wrong? What the hell kind of place is this? The teacher then wrote in very big numbers 15. Oh!! wow I panicked for nothing.
Later in the day I decided that I needed to try something. My mother had told me the day before that if there is one phrase I needed to know for school it was "May I go to the bathroom?" hahahaha, she got the grammar right, too. So I decided to try it out (I didn't even need to go). I raised my hand and asked. I can't even remember if I said it right, but it created a reaction. She called another Chinese kid up and gave me a brick with a number on it (our room number I later found out), and sent us on our way. I followed this kid down to the basement and the whole way I was thinking what the hell is this brick for? And did I ask the right thing? I asked him in Chinese if he was leading me to the bathroom, the kid did not speak Chinese
-____-. I was about as confused as an 8 year-old could be. Finally, in the basement we entered the boys' bathroom and that is where I saw urinals for the first time and toilets separated by walls and toilet paper available (mind blown). The kid was kind enough to show me how to use the urinals, not on purpose of course, he just needed to go and I followed his lead. Great, now I knew proper bathroom etiquette in American public schools; it wasn't much dissimilar from China, except you needed a pass, hence the brick. When I got back class ended and it was lunch time!
Lunch SUCKED! Now I know that it was penne pasta with meat sauce, juice and a bag of chocolate milk. The pasta came in a microwaveable container, so it wasn’t as fancy as it sounds. At first I thought they were steamed scallions. Who would eat such a thing? When I used my fork (which was also very foreign) the pasta just broke down. It had been steamed so much it dissolved if you touched it. I didn’t eat that day. Another weird thing in America culture is recess (they even have a cartoon dedicated to it). WTF?? We play in school? Wow, did I just die and go to heaven? We played tag and wall ball mostly. There weren’t anything else to do but we were pretty happy with it.
It turns out that the black teacher I had was a sub and the next day a white lady came in. Her name was Ms. S and we had to call her that. I was wondering why her name was Ms. S. I knew it was a letter in the alphabet so for a while I thought all teachers were called by a letter. Ms. S had these heavy earrings that dragged her ears down and you can see the holes being stretched out in her ears. Gross! She was very nice though. After a month Ms. Lane came in, our regular teacher. Apparently, Ms. S was also a sub. Ms. Lane had some kind of accident and the class welcomed her back enthusiastically. A week later she brought her dog into class. WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF?????????????????? This is when I decided that America is the oddest country in the world. The dog shit everywhere and took pisses on desk polls. Funniest thing I've ever seen. I learned nothing in third grade but assimilated to the culture and learned English. My ESOL teacher was awesome! She gave us prizes for reading small books and learning words. Those two years really helped. In fourth grade I had Ms. Castleberry. The best and most influential teacher I've ever had. You will learn about her soon.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Philly Adventures: Firsts
My life in China ended when I was 8 years old and so did the Three Amigos. We certainly ended on a very high note. It was a very appropriate way for me to make my exit. However, a new adventure was ahead of me. The Philly Adventures series is going to chronicle my first few years in Philadelphia. Let's start with my first night.
It was December 22, 1999 and I arrived around midnight with my father. That was almost 13 years ago and I still remember it like it happened yesterday. My mother had arrived two months before to start her new job and find a place to live so she was waiting for us outside the airport. When we got off the plane and into the busy terminal of Philadelphia International Airport I clutched my father's hand like my life depended on it. America was a strange place for both of us and we had no idea where we were going. I was more confused than afraid; it was a new sense of curiosity I had never felt before. Everything was new: the words, stores, and the people. Especially the people. I saw black, Hispanic, Indian, white and Arabic people all in a matter of minutes. They were everywhere. My friends back home would never believe this. I had lived 8 years and only ever saw 1 white person.ONE. And now I thought I've seen the whole world. I felt like Frodo and Sam when they saw Oliphaunts for the first time.
We found my mother outside of the airport and I jumped into her arms, sobbed a little and then waited for our family friend to pick us up. When we were driving through Philly I saw one way streets for the first time. In Philadelphia, almost all the streets go one way with one lane, which makes it very difficult for drivers if they miss a turn. In China all the streets were wide with at least two lanes each way. I was blown away at how simple and beautiful this place was. I saw trees in the city for the first time and apartment buildings owned by only one family. I saw parks that had soccer fields WITH GRASS!! Basketball courts that actually had baskets, and baseball fields. I've never played baseball before. In China none of these things existed, especially soccer fields with GRASS.
When we pulled up to our apartment building I was blown away. My mother led us through the door and I screamed WOW! But then I saw a white lady making something in the kitchen and realized it was not our home. She looked back and smiled. My mother explained that the first and second floors were not ours, we were on the third floor. So up we went. When we entered I was still amazed, WOW. It was a one bedroom apartment with a kitchen, living room, and one bath. Nicer than our apartment back in China. The bathroom actually had a toilet, not one of those squat things, and it had an actual shower!!!! At the time I thought these things were unnecessary luxuries, haha. The beds were in the living room, my bed set had "A Bug's Life" theme, complete with a comforter and pillow (both of which I still use in my BU dorm, Dan Wood and Ethan know what I'm talking about).
My parents urged me to go to sleep, but I was suffering from Jet Lag and pure excitement. I stayed up all night at the window counting the cars that went by at 3AM and looking at the humongous playground across the street. I wondered what these drivers were doing this late/early and what life was going to be like from then on. At 8 years old I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I missed the Three Amigos, my cousins, family, the things I was familiar with, but that was 8000 miles away. But despite all this I felt a sense of freedom and adventure I've never felt before.
It was December 22, 1999 and I arrived around midnight with my father. That was almost 13 years ago and I still remember it like it happened yesterday. My mother had arrived two months before to start her new job and find a place to live so she was waiting for us outside the airport. When we got off the plane and into the busy terminal of Philadelphia International Airport I clutched my father's hand like my life depended on it. America was a strange place for both of us and we had no idea where we were going. I was more confused than afraid; it was a new sense of curiosity I had never felt before. Everything was new: the words, stores, and the people. Especially the people. I saw black, Hispanic, Indian, white and Arabic people all in a matter of minutes. They were everywhere. My friends back home would never believe this. I had lived 8 years and only ever saw 1 white person.ONE. And now I thought I've seen the whole world. I felt like Frodo and Sam when they saw Oliphaunts for the first time.
We found my mother outside of the airport and I jumped into her arms, sobbed a little and then waited for our family friend to pick us up. When we were driving through Philly I saw one way streets for the first time. In Philadelphia, almost all the streets go one way with one lane, which makes it very difficult for drivers if they miss a turn. In China all the streets were wide with at least two lanes each way. I was blown away at how simple and beautiful this place was. I saw trees in the city for the first time and apartment buildings owned by only one family. I saw parks that had soccer fields WITH GRASS!! Basketball courts that actually had baskets, and baseball fields. I've never played baseball before. In China none of these things existed, especially soccer fields with GRASS.
When we pulled up to our apartment building I was blown away. My mother led us through the door and I screamed WOW! But then I saw a white lady making something in the kitchen and realized it was not our home. She looked back and smiled. My mother explained that the first and second floors were not ours, we were on the third floor. So up we went. When we entered I was still amazed, WOW. It was a one bedroom apartment with a kitchen, living room, and one bath. Nicer than our apartment back in China. The bathroom actually had a toilet, not one of those squat things, and it had an actual shower!!!! At the time I thought these things were unnecessary luxuries, haha. The beds were in the living room, my bed set had "A Bug's Life" theme, complete with a comforter and pillow (both of which I still use in my BU dorm, Dan Wood and Ethan know what I'm talking about).
My parents urged me to go to sleep, but I was suffering from Jet Lag and pure excitement. I stayed up all night at the window counting the cars that went by at 3AM and looking at the humongous playground across the street. I wondered what these drivers were doing this late/early and what life was going to be like from then on. At 8 years old I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I missed the Three Amigos, my cousins, family, the things I was familiar with, but that was 8000 miles away. But despite all this I felt a sense of freedom and adventure I've never felt before.
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