A Cambodian in America

"Isn’t it ironic that my brother went over there to fight your people?" she asked us, "and now I’m here, his sister, teaching English to you guys."

Some of us forced a smile and nodded in respect. We were learning about subject and verb agreement. On that day, she showed us how to conjugate the verb "to be." With her ruler she pointed to the blackboard.

 

-I am the teacher.

-You are the students.

-He is a Vietnamese.

-She is a Cambodian.

 

The teacher then paused. And we waited for her to continue.

"It is a dog. . . ." She continued. And we repeated after her, our eyes following the movement of the ruler. When we finished the teacher asked one of us, "Who are you?"

"I am a student." One of us answered.

"Are you a Cambodian?" She asked.

The girl looked up at the teacher. "No. I am student."

The teacher made an unhappy face. Then she gave us an example, "I am an American. And you are a. . . ." The girl who stood in front of us was almost in tears now. The American teacher tapped, again and again, the fourth line on the board. A friend of the girl standing in the classroom nodded to her with a final acceptance.

The girl standing with tears in her eyes finally said, "Yes, I am Cambodian."

"Good. Good job." The teacher nodded in relief.

 

Again, we repeated after her the conjugation of the verb "to be." Again, our eyes followed the movement of the ruler. Again, she asked one of us, "Who are you?"

"I am student." One of us answered.

"Are you a Vietnamese?"

"Yes, sir. I am Vietnamese."

"Good. Good for you."

Again, we repeated after her the conjugation of the verb "to be." Our eyes kept following the movement of the ruler. Then she asked me, "Who are you?"

"I am student."

"Are you a Cambodian?"

I stuck my tongue out at her. No one dared to laugh except my friend and I. The teacher had to go get the principal herself because everyone in the class was afraid. The principal came and took me to detention hall. He called my uncle who knew as much English as I. We walked home together without a word to each other. At home, he whipped me with an electrical cord until my body coiled at the corner of a kitchen table, shaken and wet with pee and perspiration.

Yes, I was a Cambodian in America.

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