Almost every year there ends up being a student in my class who I take special interest in. Not because they are rule followers or because they work extra hard, but because they are unusual, odd or have a fun accent. A few years ago I had a student who fit all of those characteristics. Needless to say, she was moved to one of the top spots of favoritism. She had four pig tails sprouting out of the top of her head, similar to antennae. She wraps pipe cleaners around each pig tail and it looks crazy. I love that! Her eyes wonder all over and she is always talking and sharing her thoughts with whoever will listen. She is also a very sharp kid. She knew everything that was going on in the room at any given moment. All of this went on while she worked. She could tell me in an instant who was out of the room and gone to the bathroom and who was messing around, as well as who hadn’t finished their work yet. A great tattle tale to be, but she saved me a lot of energy because she kept track of everyone so I didn’t have to.
So, naturally, I sashayed up to her often and listened to her banter back and forth with peers during what is supposed to be quiet work time. She always repeated the last two or three words that anyone says to her whenever they ask her a question. For example, I might ask, “What are you having for lunch today?”
“For lunch today? Ummm, Cheese pizza.”
Or if I say, “What bus are you riding home today?”
“Bus home today? Ummm, 411.”
She and I sat down to play a computation math card game. We had played two rounds when she announced, “My dad dead.”
“Oh? Mine is too,” I said.
“Yours too? Yeah, mine died. He bleed from stomach. The man at hospital say his body no good. He dead.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.”
“Sorry to hear that, yeah. Someone take picture of blood in toilet.”
“What?!?” I asked in shock, but ever so curious to know more about this girl’s thinking.
“What? Yeah, his blood in toilet. The man say his blood too dark. His body no good. He dead.”
I was calculating all of this information as fast as possible. I determined that “the man” who said all of this was “the doctor” and I was fascinated by this account of her dead father. None of this was said with emotion or sadness. Every word flew out of her mouth in report form. She was simply reporting the information to me.
“Well, how old were you when your dad died?”
“How old I was? No. No. Not born yet. I was in mom’s stomach.”
“Oh.”
Well. Because she so freely offered information of a somewhat personal and private nature, I instantly liked her. I also loved her accent. I was riveted by the way she put words together and how she was able to speak and understand English as well as Chinese at home. I was jealous, no doubt.
On another round, this particular student and I were chatting.
I asked, “Do you know how to speak Chinese?”
“Speak Chinese? No. I don’t know. I go to China Town in Seattle and go to China too. My mom say I don’t learn Chinese we never going to China Town again. It smell like puke.”
“What?”
“What? Yeah, China town smell like puke. My mom, too.”
“Your mom smells like puke?”
“No, my mom say it smell like puke. So, we not go there anymore.”
I liked the story so much and laughed so hard that I figured I could squeeze some more conversation out of her. Two days later I landed a seat next to her during our writing class and asked, “Hey, Why aren’t you going to China again?”
“China again? No. I told you already. China smells like puke.”
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