Memories of Lunar New Year

Beautiful cards from hard working families

I taught public school in one of the most dangerous, poorest neighborhoods of Philadelphia. The kids suffered from terrible problems, all of the downstream effects of poverty, gun violence, and generations of dysfunction. Yet so many tried so hard. They were at that age (7th and 8th grade, my favorites) when decisions about the rest of your life are made, yet you aren’t ready to make them. I tried to help. I hope I helped a little.

Some of my favorite memories are of the Vietnamese kids and their families. The kids, especially the girls, were absolutely brilliant, at times doing college level work in the eighth grade. I gave them independent projects to work on in pairs, and they would produce amazing work. But they did not want to present their projects to the class, even though I gave out rewards like Fidget toys. They were bullied by the other kids. I never tried to force them, but I did at one point result to bribery. I asked one of the smartest Vietnamese girls what it would take to get her to present her presentation. She answered, “A whole lot of Laffy Taffy.” So I ordered a case of Laffy Taffy from Amazon. She presented with her project partner, I gave her enough Laffy Taffy to put north Philadelphia into a coma, and I developed a relationship with Laffy Taffy that is unhealthy to addictive. I must avoid the first piece. One day at a time.

Their parents worked hard, but they always found a way to come in for parent teacher conferences. I loved telling them how smart, hard working, industrious and polite their daughters were. The parents valued education tremendously, and were determined that their children learn and study and make a better life. It was such a joy to see these parents caring for their girls, from little ones in the third grade to their sisters in the eighth grade, often all of them coming to the conference together.

On Lunar New Year, we had the day off, but the day before, almost all the Vietnamese kids brought me Lunar New Year cards from their parents. In a place where teachers were often threatened with violence and rarely respected, it was beyond heartwarming to receive these cards.

I got a sense of what they were fleeing from one of the fathers. He said that he and his two brothers had all left Vietnam and had to go to different countries. One was in Canada, I forget where the other ended up. He said that since he and his brothers had had to separate, he prioritized keeping his children together. They went to the same school K-8. They were all well-mannered, and genuinely sweet. One was an amazing artist. I could ask her to draw anything and she would create a beautiful picture. I bought fancy markers and art supplies with money that my step-mother, a retired teacher, had given me to buy supplies for my classroom. Teachers spend so much of their own money on things for the kids, and in schools like the ones I taught in, most things will get broken or stolen. But you do it anyway because you want the kids to have nice things that engage them.

Those families had hard lives. Noise pollution was so bad in that neighborhood that the houses shook at night with noise from next door. Kids would fall asleep in class because they could not sleep at night. It was in the heart of the open air drug market area, and we had to walk over needles and walk by people nodded out in the streets to get anywhere. I was told to leave the area by 4 pm because it was not safe after, but these kids could never leave.

The brilliant girls got into the best high schools in Philadelphia. I pray that they will get into the college of their dreams, and that they will find safety and happiness in a world where their intelligence and hard work is valued. They will face a harsher version of what I felt at Yale: the dilemma of the smart kid who grew up without much money. These girls will learn to play the game, I’m sure. I pray that they will not be bullied in college like my Jewish friends’ kids have been. I pray that they made it safely to college, and that the random gunfire in the neighborhood never hit them or their parents or siblings. You never knew, at the start of the day, who might not make it.

I hope that today these girls and their families enjoyed their day off from school. I hope they were able to eat their favorite treats, maybe go to a parade, speak their language and celebrate their tradition. It’s so good that the school system here honors their important holiday. When I asked my students to write about their favorite holiday and what they loved about it, almost all the students wrote about food. These girls wrote about foods I had never heard of, but that sounded wonderful.

Close-knit families, very involved fathers whose top priority was the safety of their wives and children and their potential for success, all protective factors against the destructive effects of poverty. I know those girls are going to make it, though they carry generational trauma and are making their way in a new land.

Happy New Year, my sweet girls.