English in a New Light

I could sit here and write about my education, list my favorite teachers, or praise my

favorite books. I could write about how I learned cursive in the 3rd grade, but in all honestly, I

never really used it. I could write about how I wrote a short story in the 5th grade and how that

short story won a little blue ribbon some Tuesday night in the school cafeteria. I could write

about how I wrote my twelve page economics paper in one night and got an A, or how my mom

used to read with me before bed every night until I was old enough to pick up a chapter book

and read the whole thing before putting it back down. I could write about any one of those

things, but I don’t want to. Inevitably, as an American student from California there are many

people, influences, and experiences that shaped the reader and writer I am today. I am

completely aware that my learning opportunities have been a privilege and that many don’t get

to experience the quality of education that I have. That being said, it is my guess that my

educational background is in no way identical, but in many ways similar to other students in

America. While my education, family, sports, friends, and hometown did create the reader and

writer I am today and while they did teach me to have a deep appreciation for literature, these

experiences never made me look at the English language differently. These experiences never

shined an altering light on the English language. While I had always been fascinated with

literature and thoroughly enjoyed reading and writing my whole life, I had always looked at

literature through the eyes of an American, English-speaking student. There is one experience

though, that gave me a whole new perception.

It was the summer of my junior year in high school that I realized if I wanted some extra

cash to do the things I wanted, I was going to need to get a job. My parents, understandably,

would no longer be paying my petty ‘needs’ such as a manicure or a new dress. However, the

© University of Arizona Writing Program

thought of robotic work such as standing behind a cashier counter or folding clothes all day

made me cringe. I wanted to do something that wouldn’t bore me to death. My mom, a woman

of many contacts, offered up a tutoring job she heard of through a co-worker. I figured I enjoyed

school and could help some middle schoolers with their algebra or history homework. I quickly

asked for the name and number of the woman. Rhonda was her name and she eagerly offered me

the job within our four minute phone call. This eagerness suggested that I may have been her

only applicant. I wondered why. In fact, I left that phone call with many questions, realizing I

didn’t even know the kid’s name. About three days later I received an email from my so-called

boss that simply read, “Hope all goes well,” with an address linked below. I hopped in my car

and started on my way. I cautiously parked against the sidewalk and walked up the brick steps

towards the large, run-down house in front of me. I knocked and took a step back, the way my

parents taught me as polite. I could hear footsteps clunking down the steps. The footsteps were

loud, but I could tell the person nearing the door was not large. The door creaked opened. A

little old lady of seemingly Asian descent. “Herro,” she said, “I am Susan.” She was wearing a

little gown and clogs. She stood there with a bright smile, and welcomed me in. She pointed to

some slippers and said, “For you.” I was confused, but I pulled off my sneakers and placed the

slippers on my feet. She led me upstairs, my eyes wandering as I searched for the kid I would be

tutoring. We stopped in the dining room, where a computer lay on top of the table. She pulled

out a chair for me. I thanked her and sat down. “Water?” she asked in her thick accent. “Yes

please, thank you,” I said. She poured me a glass with her frail, yet steady hand. She then

proceeded to sit down. I just stared at her and smiled. We sat there in silence for about a minute,

as I waited for the kid I would be tutoring to turn the corner and take a seat next to us. She

opened her mouth to speak. “So, what you are teaching me about writing today?” she asked in

© University of Arizona Writing Program

broken English.

Oh shit.

I had forgotten that my mom is not only a woman of many contacts, but a woman who

likes to challenge people (especially me). She is also a woman of many practical jokes, which

is why she told her co-worker not to tell me the age of my client (she was 86 by the way).

“Well... let’s just write,” I said, quite obviously unprepared. I told her to write about

anything she wanted and that I would go over it when she was done. While she wrote, I searched

for some grammar worksheets I could print off of her computer. Her bony fingers scribbled

away for just over an hour. When she was finished she handed me her work. I told her that

before correcting it with her, I was going to read the whole thing over to myself. She smiled and

said, “Okay, I make you some soup meanwhile.” I told her not to worry, but she insisted. I

turned my head back to the thin, yellow notebook paper she had written on. In reading this first

writing assignment I would learn that she was from Taiwan, that she was a mother of five, that

she owned a huge property before moving to America, and that she was a widow. I turned my

head away from the page and focused my attention back to her. I watched her as she stirred the

soup, a smile on her face. I watched her as she shuffled around the kitchen, her clogs clunking

against the tile flooring. I noticed her bright red lipstick, penciled on eyebrows, and her

artificially dyed hair. She was 86 and glowing. I suddenly became very excited for this

challenge.

I turned my attention back to her writing once again and attempted to break down her

sentences. I realized how difficult it would be to explain the English language. Hell, I didn’t

even know why we say half the things the way we do. How do I explain why we say “I had been

living in Taiwan at the time” instead of “I have been lived in Taiwan during time.” Of course I

© University of Arizona Writing Program

knew the correct way to say it, but I just knew. It was just like that. I had no clue how to explain

it. Eleven years of schooling and I had no clue! Yeah, I did a couple grammar worksheets in

school, but I never actually paid attention. I just knew what went where. It came naturally. I

grew up in America. I grew up speaking English.

After that first day of my new job I went home, opened up my laptop and studied. I

studied all night. I studied basic English: past tense, present tense, future tense, verbs, nouns,

pronouns, object pronouns, etc. I wanted to be prepared for our next session because I wanted to

help her. Intrigued by her, I decided to start every session with a journal entry, just like the first

time we met. I wanted to learn more about her. And I did. I learned that she owned a huge

property back in Taiwan and that she and her husband turned it into an apartment complex,

hosting people from all over the world. In fact, she still has the booklet where people signed in.

I got to touch it and hold it and flip the pages. I learned that on this property she grew grapes

and with these grapes she made wine. She told me a funny story about this wine. She got sued

for selling this wine because she did not have a permit (it’s a long story, with a very humorous

ending). I also learned that she deeply missed Taiwan, and that she moved her kids to America

for a better education and more opportunities. I learned about her falling out with her youngest

daughter, which she blames herself for and always will. I learned that her husband was her best

friend and her mother had always hoped they would end up together. I learned that the two of

them built their own Taiwanese church after moving to America. I learned that when her

husband died of cancer she slipped into a huge depression. She lost 15 pounds, leaving the

already tiny woman around 90 pounds. It took her awhile to get better. She decided to go

to college at age 80, in order to cope with her loss. She got a diploma.

While the daily journal entry would exist, our sessions consisted of much more. First,

© University of Arizona Writing Program

she would make me food. I would always accept, because if I didn’t she would make the food

anyway. She loved to cook. And she loved to spoil me. I would always have goodies to bring

home. Along with the food there would be TV, mainly Taiwanese news. She would put the

subtitles on for me of course, although I usually didn’t pay attention. We would talk for hours

and some nights I would end up staying past midnight. She became my best friend.

Through helping Susan with her reading and writing, I also helped myself. I gained a

much higher level of appreciation for English while teaching Susan. She spread her wisdom on

me and her lively, determined personality encouraged me. I learned about her morals and her

values, which I now live by every day. I learned about culture and I learned about the

importance of preserving it. As I watched her express herself through writing, I learned to

express myself. She inspired me to write. In fact, every time she would write a journal entry, I

would go home after our session and write one too. I would write about what she taught me that

day because she taught me more than I could have ever taught her. This incredible woman did

not just alter the way I thought of literature. She altered my lifestyle. I have never been so

grateful for a job and I hope that when I start my career, I wake up half as excited to go to work

as I was to go to my high school job.

© University of Arizona Writing Program