I was born as the second child in
my family in Fuzhou, China. Because of the “One-Child” law in place at the
time, my parents took me up on a mountain and hid me away to die, so everyone
could act as though I had never existed. A combination of accident (an elderly
woman found me after eighteen hours) and love (my parents still wanted me in
the face of severe punishment) saved me, but I was made aware very early in my
life that, to the people in power, my existence meant nothing. This knowledge haunted me during my ten
years in China, but I would eventually overcome it.
I moved to America in time to begin
the fifth grade. I was the only international student in the entire body of
five hundred kids in the public elementary school. On my first day, I saw a big
sign with M-R-S. C-H-E-S-T-E-R stenciled on it. I knew this must be my
classroom, because I held a paper showing the identical symbols. I was hampered
by memories of school in China: of desks crowded together within the confines
of dark walls, menacing with punishment; of being hit on my right palm with a
bamboo stick; blows as loud as thunder and stinging like lightning. But here I
was in a new country, with my purple knapsack, my brand new dress with Winnie
the Pooh on its right shoulder, and my shiny black shoes. From behind me I
heard, “Hi, Rona.” I felt a hug and was guided by the hand into the room, with
many students eyeing me from head to toe. I, too, stared, and for the first
time I was surrounded by this strange language. While I did not understand the
words at first, I began to realize that somehow my existence mattered to Mrs.
Chester and other Americans. I had a chance here.
I gained confidence
in myself from Mrs. Chester and others, and it buoyed me up through the
challenges that faced me. During
my sophomore year in high school, my grandfather in China passed away, and my
parents left for China for two months.
They left the family restaurant in my care. In order to keep the business running, my sister and I had to
hire a cook and plead with my high school to allow us to go home every day to
help in the restaurant. After I promised that going home would not affect my
grades in any of my classes, they relented. Every day, after all of my classes,
sports, and school requirements were taken care of, I went to the restaurant to
take care of customers. I would
work from 5 PM to 11 PM. on weekdays, and on weekends from 11 AM to 11 PM. For
two months, I was a student by day and a restaurant manager, dishwasher,
cooker, waiter, cashier, and translator by night.
To ensure that I
kept my promises, the school also put me on the “Weekly Sheets” program, an
academic requirement for students who are failing their classes. Every
Wednesday, after all of my classes, I had to find every one of my teachers and
have them sign a sheet that said I was passing all of my tests and quizzes and
doing all of my homework. Many of my friends came to believe that I actually
was failing. There was nothing I could do, though, but keep working.
During those two
months, the only time I had available to do homework was after 11 PM, when my
restaurant closed. Nevertheless, determination and hard work helped me to make
High Honor Roll for the first time. My restaurant’s business also
increased.
Those two months
helped me find a new side of myself. I learned not only how to work under
pressure but also how to organize my time wisely. Even though this experience
may have been the hardest part of my life, I found that with persistence, hope,
and hard work I achieved success.
I am glad that I had the opportunity to challenge myself then, in order
to become the person that I am today.
I am the sum of my experiences: living
in hiding in a land that did not want me, finding my identity in a new country,
and learning my own strength in the face of adversity. These experiences give
me the value of my life. I do not have to search for myself. I know who I am.
*Rona Lee currently works in Healthcare and lives in the west coast.
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