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Tommy Ngo

Professor Cole

English Composition II

11 February 2020

A Change of Heart

From the beginning of time, all I can remember was my parents telling me, “It’s good to

know multiple languages. It’s better for school, better for work, and better for life.” I grew up

with this mentality, but it was imprinted on me and my siblings. My parents once told me that the

day they decided to move to America, they promised themselves that they wouldn’t let their kids

lose side from their culture and native language. A native language, but who was it native for? I

remember growing up, my parents had to work immense work weeks, sometimes seven-days a

week. With that, they hired a nanny directly from Vietnam. She lived with us and she only spoke

Vietnamese. This was where I learned how to speak and write in Vietnamese. My parents made

sure that we would never lose contact with that side of us. Because if we couldn’t communicate

with the nanny, we couldn’t get what we wanted. So, from birth to age six, I learned the basics.

As I moved from Philadelphia to New Jersey, I forgot how to write and read in Vietnamese. Not

practicing it every day caused it to slowly fray away. As I was only allowed to speak in the

“native” language to my parents, I never forgot that. My Viet vocabulary grew every day and it

became one of my greatest resources. At one point, I thought I was so cool because I knew

another language and that my family was from somewhere many elementary school kids did not

know existed.

Although my sisters were way more proficient at Vietnamese, especially since they were

birthed there, I was given the task to teach my one-year younger brother. We grew up together,
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doing the same things, wearing the same clothes. For all of my life, we were considered

“Identical Twins.” But my Vietnamese was better than his, making my parents believe that he

was going to be the “disruptive” child because he was not willing to learn. With that, every day I

had to quiz him on certain things. I would pick up a soup ladle and ask him “what’s this?” or

point to the metallic refrigerator and ask, “what color is that?” This made me so proud and I still

remember that feeling. The way my parents made me feel because I knew where they came from

and how to greet their friends in Vietnamese. But since, that has faded. Throughout middle

school and high school, I immersed in western culture. Whenever my schoolmates spoke

Vietnamese to me, I just looked at them. I began to feel like Vietnamese was a hidden language.

I would only speak it at home. I would never use it outside of the household. It was not a secret

that I knew the language, but when a Vietnamese native looked at me, it shocked them.

I’ve been to Vietnam approximately three times that I can recall. Once when I was two

years old, once when I was 12, and the most recent being Winter Break 2019, when I was 19. My

most recent visit just made me realized how much I strayed from the culture. My parents wanted

to go back to Vietnam for Lunar New Year, but since I had school a week prior, I went for

approximately three weeks. We flew with Asiana Airlines, taking one of their largest jets from

JFK to Seoul, Korea. From Korea, we went to Saigon, my parent’s motherland. During this 22-

hour plane ride, I couldn’t sleep. As I recall it was extremely cold, having -55 degree weather

outside of the plane. Of course, inside was much warmer, but it was still ice-cold, nonetheless.

The airplane food was somewhat decent which made the flight better. From the savory beef and

rice dishes to the small vanilla cakes, it all seemed fresh from the store. The flight felt like an

eternity because I could not get comfortable. I tossed and turned, sleeping for maybe 10 minutes,

thinking it was hours, waking up to realize we haven’t even moved on the map. I was scared. I
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didn’t know how my family in Vietnam would perceive me. I didn’t know what I would do there

in three weeks. For once in my life, nothing was planned out and the future was completely

unknown. To me, this was unusual because I have always had my schedule perfectly planned.

Setting my foot off the airplane into what I knew was a foreign land had an entirely

different feeling. Setting foot out of the airport, the moment I stepped out, a humid blast of air

blew all through my body. Going from 30-degree weather in the States to 90+ weather in

Vietnam was something entirely different. I could not fathom that I was in an entirely different

country, nay continent. While all of my friends were sleeping, I was up because the sun was still

shining. I thought to myself, “the world truly is a magical place.” Once my family saw us

walkout, they all ran towards us, grabbing our bags and leading us towards the bus they rented to

pick us up. Everyone was talking to my parents asking how the flight was and in an overall

exuberant mood. Everyone asked me if I’m hungry, which I replied “yes.” We had an hour drive

back to my grandparent’s house. The entire ride back everyone was talking to my parents.

Stating observations, they made about me regarding my appearance and questions they had.

None of which was directed at me, but my parents. I felt completely out of place. I always

considered myself Vietnamese-American, but to my family, I was just American. They asked my

parents, “oh, does he speak Vietnamese,” “why does he look American,” and other questions and

comments along those lines. I was sitting right there, right in front of them but to my family, I

was completely invisible. Of course, I would get a glance here and there and some small

questions directed towards me, but why ask my parents when I’m right there? This was the

moment I began hating this trip. For the first week, I only spoke to my parents and cousins. They

understood where I came from and they were learning English, so they used me as a resource to

enhance their vocabulary. I did have fun, enjoying the weather, scenic views, and fresh food. But
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something was missing. Someone my age where I can hang out with and go around with.

Something I would have had if I stayed in the States over the break. I could not relate to anyone,

so for a couple of days, I just stayed in my room and left when my parents called me to go

somewhere. Even though I was fluent in the language, I barely spoke it. Everyone assumed that

the American kid can only speak English, so I just made that happen. I only spoke English. I felt

like my family and the people in the community saw me as a foreigner, so that was how I acted,

as a foreigner.

After about 10 days, I was extremely bored. I did everything I wanted to. This included

shopping, sight-seeing, and eating everything I could have thought of. My parents understood my

frustration because, in a sense, they were perceived as foreigners as well. After begging, my

parents allowed me to book a plane ticket to Seoul, Korea. I had a close friend that lived there,

and I was able to stay with her family for a couple of days. Arriving in Korea was something

different. I did not speak the language and had to have her explain and translate everything. I

finally realized that in Vietnam I was not an outsider, but I made myself one. I was isolating

myself because I figured I would just be bored the entire time. Spending five days in Korea

allowed me to see a whole different culture. A whole different perspective. My friend, who

spoke perfect English showed me that even coming from a different country does not mean that

you do not belong. Seeing the way her face lit up when ordering food was different from what I

experienced.

After five days, I flew back to Vietnam for the remainder of my trip. Having about a

week left of my vacation, I opened my eyes and opened up to my family. I began asking them

this and that, taking an interest in their life and our culture. I showed my knowledge and now,

when someone asked my parents if I spoke Vietnamese, I answered. Although no one there was
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my age, but younger, I still tried my best to communicate with them and to enjoy the rest of my

trip. I watched videos of things to do in Vietnam with my younger cousins and asked to go here

and there. This time was different, after spending five-days in an ENTIRELY different country, I

knew that it was me. I perceived my family as outsiders, which was why they perceived me as an

outsider. I came with a closed mind because I didn’t know what to expect and I didn’t have

anyone my age there that I was close with. But once I immersed myself with the culture and their

way of life, I began to have a better time.

Knowing a different language does open the door to a whole new world. But to open the

door, the bearer of knowledge must open their mind to try something new. Through my vacation,

I reconnected with my Vietnamese side. I learned to try new things and that not everything is a

straight line. There are always many perspectives and mine may not always be correct. Once I

opened my mind and mouth, I learned to love my culture and family. My journey with the

Vietnamese language has been a long and stressful one but I know it does open many doors.

Being able to put it on my resume and using it to translate for my parents at certain times has

made me realize, I am Vietnamese-American. I still have more to learn and I would like to

reconnect with reading and writing in Vietnamese because as a business major, this could help

with international business. So, my literacy journey through the Vietnamese language is not over,

and I shall gain more knowledge and culture through immersion, by visiting more often and

learning more often, with an open mind.