Wei-Lei's Story: Coming To A New School

Coming to a new school was nerve-wracking, especially when I wasn't so confident with their language or social culture. So when I arrived at this new school and was about to introduce myself to the class I’d hoped to have found a similar face or a friendly smile. I was proven very wrong. I found in this new country, in this new class, kids who would call me Piss after shortening my name to Wee. I was unimpressed, was this how peers greeted each other? My mother would be so upset, I couldn't tell her. I attempted to keep the smile on my face until pushed over. My peers began to tease me and ran circles around me trying to push me onto the asphalt, “Piss! Piss! Piss!” There was a face in the distance, one like mine, yet very different. I don't …show more content…
A little shy for the school’s taste, but a good kid nonetheless. The day he came to me was the day my heart broke for the little foreign kid. A foreign kid in a foreign land. Wei-Lei had been enthusiastic in our very first meeting, keen to make new friends and adapt to the new culture. I recall explaining to his parents that there may be some difficulties in Wei-Lei’s integration into the school. They solemnly nodded and stated, “Wei-Lei is a good boy, he will make no trouble.” That wasn't what I had feared. I had feared Barry West tormenting the poor boy as he did with Aditi, the only Indian girl in my class. A lovely girl, shy and smart. She never complained, what a strong girl, a brave girl. But Wei-Lei was stronger, braver. He came to tell me about the torment. He came to me and he was ready for the repercussions. Wei-Lei was a good kid. Barry West was a …show more content…
This was my future, not his. He was not in Vietnam anymore, this wasn't his turf. Here I felt anger. Then, I was so hurt that he couldn't even hear a word that I was saying. I started at ‘I don't want to be a doctor anymore’ and I think that's all he heard. He didn't want to listen. What was so appalling about my dreams and aspirations. I was a doctor. What he wanted me to do was done but now I couldn't handle it. I was hurt by the fact that he didn't care about what I had to say. Here I felt the tears welling up and cascading down my face. He was not my best friend, he was not my supporter, he was no longer my number one. That what his words were telling me. He probably wouldn't care if his only daughter fell off the face of the earth. Why? Because she wasn't a doctor. He called me worthless. I became determined. As an artist, I would prove to him that I would be as priceless as my art work. My dreams encompass who I am and that was not worthless. He called me selfish and ungrateful, yes I was selfish enough to look within and realise my passion and aspiration. Yes, perhaps I was ungrateful of the opportunities the medical life would offer me. But I was never ungrateful for him. My father would always be my number one. Here, I felt acceptance and