newbies
One
One night last month whilst on filial duty + community service, I met a girl who could easily have been me - born twelve years later. Mum had met her parents at church (yes, still going!), and was having the family over for an Aussie dinner (= pizza).
Sure I might have been less athletic, and spoken Chinese with a different accent, but we had more in common. We arrived in Oz at the same age; were star pupils in Chn (which entailed having the trifecta of brains + work ethic + street cred, at least one of which, and which one/s depending on the school, is not a pre-requisite to popularity over here); found the new schoolwork understimulating; behaved toward our parents with deference, reserve, plus a sparing amount of cheek; and when called upon always had the grace that comes with maturity of entertaining the considerably younger child/ren of the household playing host at the time, for an entire evening, whilst appearing to have enjoyed ourselves.
For these parallels alone I wanted to mark the beginning of yet another inter-generational friendship. Some will think it odd, if not downright patronising, that I should have chosen to bequeath my newly retrenched bike; I beg fervently to differ. It is practical: she wants to learn to ride, doesn't have a bike, and none is forthcoming from elsewhere in the short term. It is symbolic: the passing on of a much loved inanimate friend between two new friends. It is sentimental: better to let the old boy live out its days on the road than in the shed. It is personal: I would have spun with joy if someone had given me a bike, used or not, at that age (I had to wait another 3 years before saving up enough $ for one).
Two
Shortly after the above encounter, mum introduced me to another family of newbies she'd met at church (!!), this time with ulterior motive. I've yet to meet any member of this family, and so have no vibes to comment on.
Anyway, the story as related to me by mum... The parents vented during cell (!!!) that in her second week at the local high school their teenage daughter had been kicked in the knee from behind during Phys Ed, with the result that she'd had to miss out on a week of school - and counting, because not being permanent residents they had no medical insurance without which they didn't think they could afford to take her to a doctor. I can't decide which pissed me off more: that almost everyone on hearing this had leapt to the conclusion that the "assault" was rooted in racism, or the parents' lame rationalising of not getting the girl to a hospital right away / at all.
So since: I went to that school, and am the lawyer; the parents speak barely a word of English, the girl not much more; and everyone else who does and wants to help apparently had absolutely no time to spare (yeah, unlike me) - mum's cellmates (hahaha) unanimously appointed me to liaise with the school - to what end they could not articulate beyond some sketchy notion of justice. With only natural resistance I heeded the command, not least because for once mum and I seemed to have seen eye-to-eye on the pertinent issues.
Needless to say my involvement achieved nothing, if not less, as expected by mum and me. The school wouldn't (and couldn't) cover the girl's medical expenses, nor investigate the alleged attack without so much as a name or description of the "suspect/s". The parents, the girl too, couldn't (or wouldn't) understand how a school, the foundation of civil society, can possibly let such blatant (presumed) racially fuelled violence slide. Much as I tried to explain to the girl over the phone that kids being kids anyone who's different is at risk of being bullied no matter different how, and count on no one except yourself for vindication and never ever give in to self-pity and excellence is the best weapon etc. - the usual mantras that got me through school (and still come in handy now and again), I fear that my pleas might have dissipated like indistinct echoes against the wall of all that the girl already has to grapple with. After all, and it is not only my conceit talking here, not every 13yo is as tough cynical stubborn as I was.
I worry also, about being dismissed by the family, and families like this one, as a Defector when, more than they know, more even than they deserve, I will always be on their side.
One night last month whilst on filial duty + community service, I met a girl who could easily have been me - born twelve years later. Mum had met her parents at church (yes, still going!), and was having the family over for an Aussie dinner (= pizza).
Sure I might have been less athletic, and spoken Chinese with a different accent, but we had more in common. We arrived in Oz at the same age; were star pupils in Chn (which entailed having the trifecta of brains + work ethic + street cred, at least one of which, and which one/s depending on the school, is not a pre-requisite to popularity over here); found the new schoolwork understimulating; behaved toward our parents with deference, reserve, plus a sparing amount of cheek; and when called upon always had the grace that comes with maturity of entertaining the considerably younger child/ren of the household playing host at the time, for an entire evening, whilst appearing to have enjoyed ourselves.
For these parallels alone I wanted to mark the beginning of yet another inter-generational friendship. Some will think it odd, if not downright patronising, that I should have chosen to bequeath my newly retrenched bike; I beg fervently to differ. It is practical: she wants to learn to ride, doesn't have a bike, and none is forthcoming from elsewhere in the short term. It is symbolic: the passing on of a much loved inanimate friend between two new friends. It is sentimental: better to let the old boy live out its days on the road than in the shed. It is personal: I would have spun with joy if someone had given me a bike, used or not, at that age (I had to wait another 3 years before saving up enough $ for one).
Two
Shortly after the above encounter, mum introduced me to another family of newbies she'd met at church (!!), this time with ulterior motive. I've yet to meet any member of this family, and so have no vibes to comment on.
Anyway, the story as related to me by mum... The parents vented during cell (!!!) that in her second week at the local high school their teenage daughter had been kicked in the knee from behind during Phys Ed, with the result that she'd had to miss out on a week of school - and counting, because not being permanent residents they had no medical insurance without which they didn't think they could afford to take her to a doctor. I can't decide which pissed me off more: that almost everyone on hearing this had leapt to the conclusion that the "assault" was rooted in racism, or the parents' lame rationalising of not getting the girl to a hospital right away / at all.
So since: I went to that school, and am the lawyer; the parents speak barely a word of English, the girl not much more; and everyone else who does and wants to help apparently had absolutely no time to spare (yeah, unlike me) - mum's cellmates (hahaha) unanimously appointed me to liaise with the school - to what end they could not articulate beyond some sketchy notion of justice. With only natural resistance I heeded the command, not least because for once mum and I seemed to have seen eye-to-eye on the pertinent issues.
Needless to say my involvement achieved nothing, if not less, as expected by mum and me. The school wouldn't (and couldn't) cover the girl's medical expenses, nor investigate the alleged attack without so much as a name or description of the "suspect/s". The parents, the girl too, couldn't (or wouldn't) understand how a school, the foundation of civil society, can possibly let such blatant (presumed) racially fuelled violence slide. Much as I tried to explain to the girl over the phone that kids being kids anyone who's different is at risk of being bullied no matter different how, and count on no one except yourself for vindication and never ever give in to self-pity and excellence is the best weapon etc. - the usual mantras that got me through school (and still come in handy now and again), I fear that my pleas might have dissipated like indistinct echoes against the wall of all that the girl already has to grapple with. After all, and it is not only my conceit talking here, not every 13yo is as tough cynical stubborn as I was.
I worry also, about being dismissed by the family, and families like this one, as a Defector when, more than they know, more even than they deserve, I will always be on their side.
posted by In2MeC at 2:28 am
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