Chapter 2: "A Pat on the Back"

[Note: This entry is dated 1-29-20 only to create chapter sequence. Back to Chapter 1]

Each morning at breakfast during his first week in America, Enoch and I had time to talk at his pace. It is always an enjoyable conversation. He learned new words and I learned more about what life was like in China.  He had arrived several days before Second Semester began, and in hindsight, these days of rest and casual interaction, more than anything, helped establish a sense of home away from home.

The day after the Google Maps experience, we had a late start to school, which gave us two hours for breakfast. We each poured a bowl of Cheerios. As we rinsed out our dishes in the sink, Enoch asked if he could also have some "leave overs."

The night before, as he helped us clear the table, Julie (whom he calls "Mom" at home and "Mrs. K" at school) had explained the term "left overs" in reference to some pieces of chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy that we covered and put back in the refrigerator. Cheerios were fine, but he really wanted some "leave overs."

I began to explain how to use the microwave, but he said, "In China we have--how you say? MIKE-RO-what?"

"Wave... microwave." I said.

"We do not say 'MIKE-RO-WAVE.' but we have. It is most important part of kitchen."

"Here, too," I laughed."We zap everything."

"Zep? What is zep?"

"Not zep--ZAP. Instead of saying 'I will microwave the left-overs' We would say 'I'll Zap them.'"

"Zap," he said. "How long should I zap potatoes?" (He is a quick study.)

"Oh, about one minute for each: chicken, potatoes, and the gravy. I like to get the gravy hot first and then pour over the potatoes."

Three minutes later, Enoch sat back down to the breakfast table with his zapped chicken and potatoes with gravy. "We do not have gravy in China," he said, "but I like it very much. It's dericious." [Enoch says "delicious" often--always with the medial "r" sound.] "Do you not eat Cheerios with leave over chicken and potatoes?"

"I don't, but if you like it. Go right ahead."

After a long pause and some bites of food, he said, "Yesterday you wanted to know about my school before I came to Calvary. This is something I have been waiting to tell you. But first, I need to say something about China that is very different from here."

"Okay. Take your time. I will listen," I said, all ears.

"Already here, this week, at Calvary the teachers smile and say hello even just to pass in halls. They shake my hand, and when you met me at airport, you both gave me hug. In China, this would not be."

"Does that bother you?" I asked. "We will not do it if it bothers you."

"No. It doesn't bother me at all. It is nice. Everyone here is very kind. My classmates and the teachers are very kind. But in China these things do not happen."

In that moment, I remembered something that I learned in Thailand. We met hundreds of little children in the mountain villages near the China boarder, and our translators told us not to pat the children on the top of the head. "In America this shows affection, but in this culture it is very bad, so please do not pat the children on the head." Remembering that cultural advice from 2008, I asked Enoch a similar question.

"Before you go on, let me ask you a question: Does it bother you when I pat you on the back and say 'Good job.'  It is very natural for me to do it, but I can stop. We call that a 'pat on the back.' It is to encourage you."

"Pat... on... the...back?" He struggled at the words. "This is not something that I know."

I demonstrated and said, "'Good job!' That is a 'pat on the back.' It is always meant to be good."

"Oh, that. Yes. I like that. It is very encouraging," He nodded. "But let me continue because that is what I mean to tell you. In China these things do not happen. Ever. Even my favorite teachers would never do such a thing. We do not touch. We do not show our feelings. In fact. We do not say 'Thank you' as many times as you say in America. I learn to say 'Thank you' in English class, and they taught us that Americans say it for many reasons,  but we do not say it in Chinese."

"What about 'xiexie'?" I asked.

"Yes. That means 'Thank you,' but in China we don't say it for every nice thing. Not even to our parents do we say so much. This does not mean we are not thankful. It just means Chinese keep feelings inside...even 'thank you' feelings. To know my school, you must first know that there is no one who smile or say thank you to student--except one teacher one time. I want to tell you about her."

"In China, we have a head teacher in charge of each grade. All other subject teachers she is in charge. My 10th grade head teacher was Ms. Joy. [Names have been changed, and this is NOT a picture of Mrs. Joy but a pleasant illustration of how I picture her.] I liked her very much. She is very good teacher but also helped me on days when I... on difficult days."

"Did she know about your father?" I risked asking.

"No. I don't think so. I don't think any person at my school knew about my father. When they ask me where he is, I just say, 'He is away on business...'" He winced a little with that confession, not knowing if I would approve.

"It is okay that you said that, Enoch. He really was away on business: God's business. Right?"

"Yes... very much God's business," he smiled cleverly. "But they did not know where he really was. No one knew. Only our church knew, but my parents told me never to say. So I do not think Ms. Joy knew why I was sad sometimes, but she always smile--that is uncommon in China but she always smile and be happy each day, and she encourage me many times."

"So at the end of my 10th grade year, a friend and I go to third floor to Ms. Joy's office and I thank her for being so kind each day that whole year. Then I ask, 'Can I give you a hug?' This confused her. She said, 'Why? I am not going away. I will see you at school next year.' I said, 'But you are not my head teacher next year. I will miss you.' And then she gave me hug. It was very sweet. No teacher ever did that before. You have to know about Ms. Joy to know what I tell you next... about this year...my 11th grade so far... the months before I came to Calvary."

Enoch began to tell a story that seemed to paraphrase page one of Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities: It could have read like this "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. My 10th grade head teacher made school the best ; my 11th grade head teacher made it the worst ... My season of Light became a season of Darkness; my spring of hope became a winter of despair..." 

It was especially hard to hear what he told me next because our correspondence had begun in July, 2018, before his 11th grade year began. Had our plan to get him a student visa worked the first time, he would have been here in September not January, and his lingering memories of his former school would have been the kindness shown by Ms. Joy. But instead, a different teacher treated him horribly. He wanted me to know that the plan to come to America was not because of this second teacher, but she did make him more eager to leave. When our second attempt failed, he remained determined to try again. More than once, as if someone had given him a pat on the back, he closed his emails with... "God is in charge of tomorrow." 

[On to Chapter 3]