Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [131]
I said, "Next time, we'll take your picture for the journal." She smiled in agreement.
"I want you to surprise me by writing that you talked to some students here at school."
Session 8
Over the next few months Chia did begin to make friends, with Miki, a Bosnian boy in her homeroom, and Thao, a Laotian girl from her computer class. She still led a quiet life of school, housework, and sleep, but she smiled more.
We talked about the problems that came up with her new friends. She responded to problems by ignoring them, pretending everything was okay, or by disappearing entirely. In general, she wasn't very flexible, and I worked to broaden her repertoire of responses. When she asked questions about how to handle things, or when she discussed issues openly, I really praised her.
Our sessions were very ritualized. Chia began with a physical complaint. By now I realized this was her way of asking for nurturance and I responded with interest and caring. Then she asked about my health and I assured her it was excellent. I asked if she was doing her breathing and relaxation exercises. Sometimes she was and sometimes she wasn't.
Next I inquired if she had written two things a day she was proud of. Generally Chia pulled out her journal and read what she had written. I praised her for speaking to new people, for exploring our town, for being flexible, or for having fun.
We used the diary to help her define a self. I asked her, "What do you enjoy? How do you make decisions about what to do? What are you good at? What are your favorite books, foods, and flowers? What qualities would you want in a friend?"
At first, Chia struggled with these questions, but as we worked over the months, she began to have short tentative answers. She liked to sing. She liked carnations and roses. Maybe she would go to junior college if her dad had enough money. She liked kind, honest, and healthy people.
Today she was moody. Her father had attended a performance of her school chorus. But afterward he had told Chia, "You can't sing. Forget this chorus."
She was mad at her father and discouraged by his remarks. I reminded her of the old-fashioned Laotian belief that the gods might steal gifted children. I said, "Your dad must be very proud."
She said, "I wish he would act like an American father and give me a hug."
That led into a discussion we often had about America and Laos. Chia was beginning to sort out what she wanted to keep from both cultures. She felt that in most ways her home culture was superior. She respected her elders and she felt American teenagers were too wild. She planned to care for her father forever. She said, "I would never put him in a rest home like Americans do." However, she liked the American ways of joking around and having fun. She envied American kids' conversations with their parents.
We talked about her friends. Miki wanted to come to her house after school and study. Her father didn't want anyone to come over, but especially not a boy. He didn't believe in dating until age twenty. Then he thought Chia should only date the man she would marry. After struggling with the issue, Chia decided to tell Miki that she could only be his friend at school and that she couldn't be his girlfriend. She said, "I will marry a man from my country."
Her Laotian girlfriend Thao had invited her to a birthday party. Chia was afraid to go and she didn't have any money for a gift. After much discussion we decided she could afford a two-dollar carnation and a handmade card. I gave her copies of pictures I'd taken of her. I said, "Give one to Thao with her card and send one to your grandmother."
As we parted, I said, "Take a chance. Go to the party." It was a sign of real progress that she agreed to think about it.
Session 9
For the first time since we met, Chia came in without any physical complaints. I greeted her and