Day 47 of writing every day.
Today is less about envy and more about observations. I took the day off from work and finally have some real breathing room it feels like.
Some reflections of my early childhood
As a kid, I wouldn’t really say I had a passion for anything. I wanted to get good at whatever I did, whether it be running, class, games, or music. I didn’t always enjoy whatever got thrown my way in terms of homework, projects, and practice time. Classmates who were nice to me would play with me despite the language barriers and all the crazy things kids might say.
I think the first activity I actually got to learn and practice outside home and not as a part of school in the US really was Aikido. I was too young to remember much of my early childhood in Taiwan since it was just up through kindergarten. I do recall swimming pool lessons and stepping off the ladder to sink like a rock before the instructor pulled me up. I started a new life with my family returning to Minnesota in time for me to start the first grade of elementary school.
Now that I think of it, I wasn’t that great of a kid up to the day I became the target of what was perhaps bullying, or maybe I was too self-centered to notice that I set off some kids and really had it coming. I didn’t really have a care in the world and just hurried up to do whatever task was set in front of me. I’ll come back to this later bullying part later though as another thought came up.
Learning English as a “second” language
Returning to the US having lived in Taiwan all my early childhood, I didn’t know English and had to get caught up through separate ESL classes that I went to while the rest of the class was doing their own regular schedule. I was too young to really notice that my day probably went a little different than the rest of the kids who spoke English their whole lives. But kids pick up language naturally through exposure, so there wasn’t too much catching up to do.
In terms of behavior I wouldn’t count myself as bad. I never hit or pushed anyone, but I did get excited about something that looked like it’d be fun and reacted like how you’d expect excited children to. I don’t think I’ll ever experience the excitement levels I had as a kid.
Anyways, I’d listen to the teacher and do as I was told. One of the times that I didn’t was when the class was sitting on the floor and I kept leaning against a mirror that’d been propped up at an angle and ended up cracking it despite being warned not to. The teacher didn’t seem angry or anything, fortunately, but I do feel bad about it.
The other problem is if I listened at all. I recall there was an assignment where the class would watch a video as a class and fill in the sheet as they picked up on the information. My recollection was that I just filled out the worksheet while the teacher was explaining and before the video had even started. I wasn’t even paying attention and just filled out what I could on the worksheet. But my memory of this event is very fuzzy and it might have been something else entirely. It’s possible my mind just made something up and I accepted it to be what had happened.
I was also bad at lying in the sense that I didn’t and had a habit of always telling the truth of what I witnessed where others might decide it better to be dodgy or use discretion with their words because they thought to avoid punishment for themselves or friends who did something that might upset the teachers/adults. I learned how to lie later than many people do perhaps. I guess I’m more of what people call a down-to-earth type of person from the start.
A Glimpse Into Home
My mom was a hard worker who had to raise four kids on her own. After our move back to Minnesota she started working again and also went to study system languages to eventually become a system engineer, a job that supported our family of five until my older brothers grew up and got jobs, and until she retired after around twenty years or so working for the same company.
Under these circumstances, it wasn’t possible for my family to really enjoy the benefits of having a surplus of time and money like better off households. My mom got up in the morning and I remember for a time she’d make breakfast for us to eat together before seeing us off at the bus stop until my brother and I got older and she was confident we could get to the bus stop on our own and get to school safely.
I recall the eldest of my older brothers going to school really early because US high schools set ridiculous expectations for how early classes should start, and some students that participate in school extracurriculars sometimes go before classes start for practice. I don’t really have any memories of having breakfast as a family in my early childhood and it was when I got older that there’d be occasional family brunches at some Chinese Dim Sum restaurant.
The First Beating
Getting back on track, I don’t remember if it was because my grades were bad or my mom wanted me to get as much out of school as possible, but I went to summer school when I was enrolled in the first elementary school I went to. I don’t really recall much of my summer school experiences except for the time I became the target of a bullying or beating I had coming, which I mentioned and am returning to now.
I remember it was summer school after the year for third grade. The class was sitting in rows for some activity. Then all of a sudden, my classmates started pummeling me in the middle of class. I’m not sure if it was spontaneous or planned, but there had to have been a cue. The classmate in front of me turned around to face me and started hitting me, then the classmate sitting behind me started punching from behind as if on cue.
How I reacted, how long it went on, I don’t really recall. I believe I put my hands up and had my head down like how some people instinctively react to getting hit. All I remember is feeling pain I hadn’t felt before for the first time and perhaps shock still trying to take in what had just happened.
If I still remember the details correctly, the teacher had her back turned to the students and I was a crying mess when she turned around. She saw and heard me sobbing and asked what happened, and I think I told her what had just transpired through bit by bit as I tried to form words between the sobbing.
The punches weren’t anything that damaging as I don’t recall getting a bloody nose or any bruises. The last memory I recall after the classroom (maybe there was a visit to the nurse’s office? I don’t remember) was my getting on the bus, still unable to control the sobbing.
My brother went to summer school as well and we were basically enrolled in the same school as my mom’s choice to keep us together where possible. He was probably surprised to see me crying when he got on the bus. So was a classmate who I considered a friend who’d been nice to me since first grade.
I told my brother and then my friend what happened and who had hit me since they were asking and concerned. When I got home I was still crying and my mom found out about it when she got home. I think I was still crying then, which means I must have cried for a few hours.
My father wasn’t present much in my life growing up but the news of what happened did reach his ears and one of the days he did hang around the house, me and my brother were taken to an Aikido dojo maybe a little over a mile from our house on the main road that we’d often drive past.
We had a trial class and enjoyed it, so we got signed up because my father and I guess my mom believed it would be good to learn a martial art so we could defend ourselves from bullies. I didn’t find anything special about Aikido then but it was something to do once or twice a week outside school and my mom didn’t want us home watching TV or playing games either.
Changing Schools
As I mentioned earlier, my mom wanted to keep my brother and I at the same school. He was moving on to middle school and our current school was elementary school only. The move has us both transfer to another school, one that went from elementary school up to middle school. I don’t remember the time when I got the thrashing, but it had to be close to the end of summer school.
I had only learned about changing schools maybe afterwards but my mom didn’t tell me a lot of things. I would’ve liked to have had a proper goodbye with the classmates and teachers who were kind to me at the first school I went to in Minnesota and the US after. I don’t recall exactly when, but I think it was my brother who told me that my classmate’s big brother had given the two boys that pummelled a good beating in return for what they did to me.
I don’t really remember much about who things concluded, but I think I felt some closure. If I were staying at the same school, I’m not sure how my fourth grade year would’ve started and if there’d be more trouble or not. I don’t think I’d ask for the revenge that was dealt to my former classmates as an adult without truly understanding why everything happened as it did, but I was glad to have a friend who looked out for me back then. Even though two classmates targeted me for a beating, I don’t recall ever holding a grudge against them and only focused on my new school life at another school plus the occasional change in pace going to children’s Aikido class.
When I think back on these memories, I do wonder how my friend and those bullies are doing now. I’m still in my early thirties but former classmates, including juniors and seniors, from high school have died according to social media posts from mutual acquaintances mourning their loss. If they’re alive and kicking, then I guess I wish them all the best and that they haven’t turned out to be scumbags making the world a more miserable place for everyone.
Thanks for reading!
One Chance Works 