Ngo 1

Tommy Ngo

Professor Cole

English Composition II

22 February 2020

A Change of Heart

For as long as I can remember, my parents have always told 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 said that the day they decided

to move to America, they promised themselves that they would not let their kids drift from their

culture and native language. A native language, but who was it native for? I remember growing

up to my parents constantly working, sometimes up to seven days a week. With that, they hired a

nanny directly from Vietnam. She lived with us and only spoke Vietnamese. This was where I

learned how to speak and write in Vietnamese. My parents have made sure that we would never

lose contact with our culture because if we were unable to communicate with our nanny, she

cannot heed to our needs and wants. With that, I learned the basics. When I was around six years

old, I moved from Philadelphia to New Jersey. My nanny moved back to Vietnam by then and

this led to me forgetting how to write and read in Vietnamese. This was the turning point, the

moment that my parents unexpectedly decided to let me stray away from my culture. Not

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

‘native’ language to my parents, I never forgot it. My vocabulary grew every day and it became

one of my greatest resources. I was able to talk to other Vietnamese people and got praised for it

because a lot of second-generation children could not. At one point, I thought I was so cool

because I knew another language and that my family was from somewhere many elementary
Ngo 2

school kids did not know existed. In a sense, this made me feel smarter and somewhat more

mature than the kids around me.

My sisters were more proficient at Vietnamese than I was, especially since they were

born in Vietnam. Even with that, I was given the task to teach my younger brother our language.

We grew up together, doing the same things and wearing the same clothes. For all of my life, we

were mistaken as ‘identical twins’. We are only 49 weeks apart, so almost twins, but not there

yet. My Vietnamese was better than his, making my parents believe that he was going to be the

‘disruptive’ child since he was not willing to learn it. This was because growing up, he was

always loud, unlike me and my sisters. He would speak English in the house when my parents

barely understood it. He was what they called ‘purely American’. I was conceived in Vietnam, so

there was something different in my blood. 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 a 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. It is actually rare to have Vietnamese children fluently

proficient in their language in the States, so I knew I was a special one. However, that did not

last for long. Throughout middle school and high school, I was immersed in western culture.

Whenever my schoolmates spoke Vietnamese to me, I would just look at them. I knew what they

were saying, and I knew how to respond, but I did not understand why they were speaking

Vietnamese in school when everyone else spoke English. At the time, I felt that the Vietnamese

were a hidden language. I did not want people to know that I could speak it, so I never spoke it in

public. 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
Ngo 3

did not look very “Vietnamese,” but I had a fluent dialect. I was able to understand and reply,

which sometimes left them wordless. An “American” kid understands. I could tell that this was

their thought.

I’ve been to Vietnam 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. I was scared. I 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. This was unlike my first two visits because I was actually an “adult.”

I could go out with my parents and drink and have fun with my family. I no longer had to stay at

home with my grandparents because I was too young. I could go into the music clubs that my

parents always raved about and the high-end restaurants that required everyone to be of legal

age. It was an entirely new experience.

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

different feeling. In the States, I knew how to call for an Uber or order something to have it

delivered. Here, I did not know how anything worked. I was like a lost puppy in a new home.

The moment I stepped out of the airport; 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 walk out, they all ran towards us,
Ngo 4

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 to 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. I felt

ignored and I had nowhere to run to. I could not go to my friend’s house down the street or my

favorite café like I normally do in the States. 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 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.

Ngo 5

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 I 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. I wanted to have a break from

school and work, but I did not expect this. Meeting the new family that I have never seen.

Having random people walk up to me in restaurants trying to sell fruit and vegetables. This was

common in Vietnam, but not in the States. Everything was new to me and I did not like it.

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. She welcomed me with open arms and as did her

family. They talked to me in English but taught me certain Korean phrases. The entire time, I just

laughed and enjoyed myself… realizing that it could be like this back in Vietnam. Seeing the

way her face lit up when ordering food was different from what I experienced. She thoroughly

enjoyed having conversations with her native people. She was proud of using her fluent Korean

language.

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. If my friend loved

being in her native home so much, I should be able to. The conversations she had with the people

around her, the giggles and joy in her face. It was something I wanted. With that, I began asking
Ngo 6

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 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. It was my fault that I became isolated. My fault that I was not

enjoying the trip. 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 decided to immerse 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. I ate foods that I never would have prior like snails and cow brain. I thought that I

could be like I was in the States, but I needed to stray away from the road to connect with the

people around me. 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.

Ngo 7