Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [60]
Khoa shouted with great enthusiasm, "Let's all meet at school for Thanksgiving dinner."
Pavel said, "I will go shoot rabbits for our food."
Deena said, "Please don't kill a rabbit."
Ly announced that last night someone had thrown a rock in the window of their home. Grace asked if her parents called the police and she nodded. The children discussed robbers and getting hint. Deena, Mai, and Pavel seemed especially anxious during this discussion. Grace tried to make good things happen but the tone remained somber. We kept returning to themes of loss. Nibbles's death had cast a pall over the class. When I left, even the sycamore was in shadow.
November 24, 1999—Thanksgiving Day Celebration
The sycamore flamed in the morning light, and this morning the blazing tree made me philosophical. I wondered if this was what amazed Moses, a tree backlit by sunrise, and made him feel God spoke to him.
As I walked in, Khoa carried over a white rat with a brown head and a mark down his back. After much deliberation, the kids had named this rat Sunny, because of his happy disposition. As I patted Sunny, I noticed that the kids seemed perkier. Deena was handing out hard candies. All the others clustered around us, laughing at Sunny's movements and explaining the process of selecting this rat from the psychology lab at the university.
Pavel came up to show me his new Coke-bottle glasses, which he felt made him look smart. I thought they gave him a rather comedic, Dickensian look, but I didn't challenge his opinion. Instead, I ruffled his hair and offered to help him finish his homework.
Mai approached me shyly and stood by my side as I helped Pavel. When I finished, she pulled out a black-and-white photo of a woman in a cotton dress in front of a flowering bush. The woman was squinting into the sun and her face looked like Mai's. I said, "You look like your mother." She hugged the picture to her chest.
Grace beckoned me to a corner of the room and told me that Khoa had been assigned to a class for behavior-disordered students for two hours each day. He was learning to be more compliant and proper in class. That was good for him and for the others, but Grace missed the old Khoa.
The school custodian, Mr. Trvdy, had agreed to let Abdul shadow him a couple hours a week. Abdul started yesterday and seemed proud of his new job. He'd told Grace, "From now on I'll be fixing up this school."
Grace reminded the class of the Thanksgiving Day story and read a book on the arrival of the Vietnamese boat people in America. Trinh listened with interest. Mai looked closely at the pictures of Vietnam and twice whispered something to Khoa. When he examined the cover to the book, Khoa said happily, "That boy was my friend in Vietnam."
A few minutes after nine, we marched to the next-door classroom. The students from the other ELL classroom had prepared a tablecloth on the floor with hand-decorated paper napkins. Grace handed every student an Indian headdress or a Pilgrim's cap. They put on their costumes and giggled at each other.
Grace led the class in songs. As they belted out the songs "The More We Get Together the Happier We'll Be" and, of course, "Over the River and through the Woods," all the random energy became group energy.
I reflected how fitting it was that this class celebrate Thanksgiving, the refugee's holiday, the holiday that said we came to a new land and endured hardships, but we survived. The Native Americans said to the Pilgrims, "Welcome, there is room for us all. We will help you until you can take care of yourselves."
The Sycamore students' stories were unique to their places and times, yet universal to the American condition. The refugee kids had tales as harrowing as that of the Pilgrims, but now they were warm, well-fed, and safe. Of course, there was sadness and poverty in the room, but there was also the sweet glaze of hope.
With her red jacket and blond curls, Deena sang and clapped, as exuberant a Little