Jiyuan Wang Discussion 6

I am not an immigrant. Both of my parents live in China, and I reside in an isolated condo apartment in Manhattan, where there is no interaction with neighbors. Therefore, I can’t quite relate to Esperanza’s longing for a “real house,” as her desire is tied to her upbringing and the neighborhood in which she lives. Although I can’t connect with Esperanza, two characters from particular vignettes hit me harder than anything else—Mamacita from “No Speak English” and Geraldo from “Geraldo No Last Name”—due to my personal experiences at two different high schools.

My first high school was a private school in Long Island, where roughly twenty percent of the students were from China. When I first attended the school in 8th grade, I barely spoke any English. I was assigned to the ESOL session, where I studied with other Chinese students under a different curriculum. I barely learned any English in 8th grade and wasted an entire year because I felt there was no need to speak English—all my peers were Chinese. I also never spoke to any native speakers outside of class because I was very content in my comfort zone. I lived in a bubble as a form of escape from the outside world, just like Mamacita from “No Speak English.” This experience later proved to be devastating to my academic career.

My second high school was a private boarding school with a very small community, around 50 students. There was one black student from Jamaica. He always smiled in a shy and timid way whenever he was teased by teachers and students. He was liked by everyone, yet distant from everyone. One morning, students were summoned to the conference room. Everyone came, except one person. The principal announced the tragedy that happened to him. He didn’t lose his life in an unexpected accident; instead, he ended his own life. My friends and I never questioned his sweet smile and kind nature, or there would be no explanation as to why he would go to the farthest place just to end his life in the most painful way possible. I can’t imagine the pain he felt when the train ran over his body, let alone the much larger pain consuming him from within, but I know one thing: we were all spared by his kind nature and mercy. Although the school reassured us that his death had nothing to do with anyone at the school, I still felt guilty at the time. Despite us learning and resting under the same roof, I never tried to understand the complex emotions beneath his signature smile. Or, more brutally speaking, I intentionally alienated myself from him due to his background. Like Geraldo in the ending of “Geraldo No Last Name,” he became a distant dream and a hidden scar for everyone at the school.