by Anselmo Chiang
"Can...you speak...ah...Chinese?" I looked over my shoulder and saw a Chinese boy about 5-feet-5-inches tall, wearing jeans and Nike tennis shoes. Tilting my head a little bit upward, I saw his dark face and mushroom-shaped curly black hair. His face was taut yet I could see his eyes showing an intense worry behind the big squares of metal-framed glasses. Concerned about his tardiness, I said quickly in a deep, quiet voice, "Yes, I can speak Chinese. Why don't you sit down next to me. Class has already begun!" He nodded with a grateful expression and took the seat next to mine. I realized later that that one sentence was almost all the English Michael knew.
As Michael sat down, a young blonde lady came out from behind the desk and introduced herself. Mrs. Stub, a fledgling teacher, was tall and thin, with a sharp face, and big eyes. This was our ESL class, but it looked more like the lobby of San Francisco. International Airport. Mexicans, Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, Russians, and Filipinos formed the many ethnic groups that drew out its boundary. Mrs. Stub herself had come from Germany when she was 7. I was trying hard to understand what Mrs. Stub was saying, but I found it difficult to concentrate. A blabbering noise kept coming to my ears. Michael was swearing quietly in Chinese. "#$%^@!" he said, frustrated, "do you know what this woman is talking about? I have noooo idea." I nodded, eyes incessantly staring at the teacher and said, "Yep, if only I can concentrate...what...how much?...about 70 percent." Immediately, Michael did not say a word. Later in the day, he exclaimed smugly that he could understand only 40% of the English Mrs. Stub spoke. He was happy about his accomplishment and so was I.
Crowds of people were looking for their own niches and eating lunches with their friends. We were doing the same thing, but we did not feel any similarity and familiarity with them. Since Michael and I did not speak enough English to order our own lunch, we sat together and shared my homemade sandwich. We had begun to worry that we would never fit in until we looked over and saw dozens of guys playing basketball.
After all, basketball was the universal language. In the cafeteria, everyone spoke English and we did not understand. In the hallway and courtyard, everyone spoke English and we did not understand. On the basketball court, however, everyone spoke the language of basketball and that we understood. Michael and I went to the court where most of the players were Asian. In the course of a great game, I had the chance to show off by rejecting the lay-up of the person who would become the third member of our crew. Michael and I had been looking for a live "dictionary" and then we found Charlie. We were ecstatic when this person who seemed so American complimented my skills in Chinese. This is how the group that people at school call "China Town" was born nearly four years ago. In the weeks that followed, nearly a dozen other Chinese boys joined our group. This group of friends has been the most important factor in my success at adjusting to this country. Without them, I might still be trying to master the language and I would certainly still be confused by the culture.
I was uncomfortable when I first realized that the other guys in "China Town" looked up to me as their leader. Since my academic achievements were the best among the group members, their parents told them that they should emulate my example. Eventually, I accepted the responsibility that came with the role of leader. My grades were not just important to my own future. They also represented the standard by which the whole group would be judged and the evidence that we really were adapting to our new surroundings.
The fact that I am considered the leader of "China Town" does not mean that I dominate it or that I am the most important member. The friendship has remained so strong because each of us has his own important role to play and is not afraid to learn from the others. Those who were born in the US teach the rest of us how to become "American" while we who were born in Taiwan help them maintain a real link to Chinese heritage. For example, the jokes that Charlie makes about my pronunciation of words like "scissors" ("caesars") taught me that that kind of wisecracking is just a part of being an American teenager. In return, Michael and I often laugh at his American accent when he is speaking Chinese. Therefore "China Town" has helped me become American without giving up China.
The most important lesson I have learned from being a part of this informal social club is one that I will take with me to college and beyond. My early childhood in Taiwan taught me to treat my education seriously. Michael, Charlie, and the others have taught me to look for a sense of balance. When I have been tempted to worry too much about one or two mistakes on test, my friends always have helped me to maintain perspective by teasing me without mercy. I cannot imagine what I would have been like without them, my favorite "China Town" buddies.
Soon "China Town" will break up as we each go our separate ways for college and ultimately into the society. This will only mean that we will not be able to hang out at Starbucks, or in the hallway or to relive that first day on the basketball court. The friendship we have created and the lessons they have taught me will be with me always. I hope that at your university I will be able to find a more diverse group of friends who will come to know "China Town" by getting to know me.