Don't Badger A Badger
Copywright 2013 by Michael A. Adashefski
This story is dedicated to my nephew Haoqi (Hokay) whose own journey to America from China inspired me to write this tale. May his adventures in America be long and prosperous.
Brookdale was a small American town located deep in the Pennsylvania hills. It wasn't famous for anything, never made any national headlines for any important news. Some of the locals thought that Zeke's Homemade Custard should be listed in the tourist attractions books about the state since old Zeke Barton did make the best frozen custard that anyone had ever tasted, at least in Brookdale. It was, by all accounts, a sleepy little town with some of the nicest people you'd ever meet living there.
In the winter of 2009 a family from China had moved into a cozy 3 bedroom house in Watkins Court, a cul-de-sac that was just a few blocks away from Brookdale Middle School. Their last name was Tang, like the orange juice drink, and the Tangs had 2 children, a high school age daughter named Mei (like the month but spelled differently) and a boy named Ho who would be attending the 7th Grade at the middle school. The Tangs moved in just as the Christmas Break was in full swing so the children would be starting in their new American schools just after the New Year. They took the time during the break to unpack all that they could bring over from China and get some new furniture and fixings to make their home feel more comfortable.
On January 3rd Ho Tang got on the school bus for his first day at the middle school. He was a little nervous about meeting his new classmates and because his English was still a little rusty. He quietly took a seat near the front of the bus and stared out the window for the short ride, listening to the other students grumbling about going back to school or proudly talking about what they'd gotten for Christmas or Hanukkah. The bus was so crowded that most of the kids didn't even notice that a new classmate was riding with them, though a few of them began to look at him curiously during the ride.
When the bus arrived all of the kids piled out onto the walkway and hurriedly entered the school. Ho Tang was met at the front door by Miss Clark, his pretty, young 7th grade teacher who spotted him immediately. "Hi," she said as she shook his hand. "You must be my new guy!" Ho shook her hand as Miss Clark introduced herself and helped him get familiar with his new surroundings. She showed him where his hall locker was and said, "Homeroom is in ten minutes in Room 205 right across the hall. Get your stuff put away and come on in when you're ready." "OK Miss Clark. Thank you!" said Ho politely. When Ho said "Miss Clark" it sounded more like "Miss Clock" due to his Chinese accent. He put away his coat and lunch and took his shiny new notebook and a small N.Y. Yankees backpack into the room. He took a desk near the front of the room as some of the students came by his desk to say Hello to him on their way in.
After the bell rang and the students listened to the daily announcements over the p.a. system Miss Clark said, "Class, as some of you have noticed we have a new student in our school today. And he's from a country that many of you may have heard about in your History lessons." Then she looked at Ho and asked him to come to the front of the room to introduce himself. Ho was surprised at this but nervously got up from his desk and walked to the front of the room and faced the class for the first time.
"Good morning." said Ho, trying not to fidget. "Good morning." replied his classmates, some giggling a little at the sound of Ho's voice. "Well, what's your name?" asked one boy. "My name is Ho Tang and I moved here 2 weeks ago from China.” , Ho said, now gaining a little more confidence. Many of the class said “Wow!” at the sound of this.
"Welcome to America!" said a girl in the middle of the room as others soon echoed her remark. "Thank you so much!", continued Ho. "It is so great to be here. Please excuse me as I am not too good talking in front of class yet. My English not as good as yours yet but I try my best to talk to you." "How long will you be in school with us?" asked another student. "I will be here all the time.", answered Ho. "My family move here to become American citizens so now USA is my home. USA is Number One!" Upon hearing this the whole class gave Ho a giant round of applause and he felt relaxed to be accepted by his new classmates. "May I ask one small favor from you?", he asked. "Sure" they all replied, almost in unison. "Now I am American student and want to be called Steve and not Ho. I want to be Steve in America and only Ho in China. I hope we can be friendly and get to know you all better. " "OK Steve! You got it!", shouted another boy in the back of the room as the bell rang, sending the students out to their first class after the holidays. As Ho picked up his backpack and notebook some of the kids patted him on the back on their way out. Johnny Wilkens came up to him and asked , "So Steve, where's your first class today?" "I go to History class now. Mr. Jackson is teacher. You know where that is, Room 126?" "I'm going there too.", said Johnny. "C'mon I'll take you over. It's just down the stairs over this way.", and Ho and his new friends left together, talking and laughing as they walked down the stairs.
As the boys were going downstairs they were passed by some 8th grade students hurriedly running upstairs. Some of the guys noticed Ho and looked at him strangely, more like he was from another planet and not just from another country. This made Ho feel a little uncomfortable but since all of them were in too much of a hurry to get to their first classes the moment quickly passed without incident. For the remainder of the morning Ho and his new classmates went from History class to English, then onto Math where Ho surprised everyone at how fluent he was in all of the different forms of Math, including Geometry and even some basic examples of Calculus! His classmates were amazed at how Ho made doing these problems look so easy. One of the guys in his class finally asked, "OK, Genius. How do you know all this stuff? What's your secret?" Ho laughed to himself and said, "It's no secret. My Father is Accountant at First Bank Of Brookdale! He teach me Math since I was small boy so it easy for me. If you want, later I can show you how to do too so you make you grades better. You like?" And everyone said, "Yeah!" as Ho broke out into a giant smile and began laughing out loud. In a few short hours at school he had gone from being the quiet new kid to being the most popular guy in his class.
But not everyone in Brookdale Middle School was prepared to have a new Chinese boy sharing their school with them. During their lunch break later that day, some of the 8th graders who had passed the guys in the stairway that morning got permission from the football coach to take an early lunch break. And they weren't happy to see this new kid from Asia getting so much attention. In fact, they were downright angry about it and they decided to let Ho know just how they felt about him being there.
One of the bigger of the guys, a kid named Eddie Dickerson, came up to the table where the 7th graders were enjoying their lunch. "Hey Geeks!", said Eddie in his usual conceited manner. "Who's the yellow kid we got here now? Isn't he a little far from home?" "He's our new classmate and he moved here during Christmas break." said Donnie James. "Yeah!", said Johnny Wilkens. "He lives here in town now. He comes all the way from China." Eddie wasn't happy about hearing that. "China? So he's a Communist, then? Everyone from China is a Communist! He's not yellow--he's red!!"
Ho stood up and sternly said to Eddie, "I no Communist! I come to be US Citizen, proud of red, white and blue! USA Number One--just like you! Why you give me trouble?" "Because my parents told me not to trust anyone from your country, so you better not try anything sneaky, like sell any secrets to the Commies!" "I no sneaky!", said Ho angrily. "I no Commie and you do not understand me! I no make trouble for America and you no make trouble for me!" "Oh", said Eddie pretending to be afraid of Ho. "I'm so sorry---NOT!! Listen Chairman, you better not be spying on us or me and my buddies will kick your butt! You g
ot it?"
Mr. Marshall from the Graphic Arts dept. came walking by the guys table just as Eddie was delivering his threat. "And you better mind your behavior, Dickerson. Or you'll be sweeping out the cafeteria trash bins for the rest of semester. YOU GOT IT?" "Oh yes, Mr. Marshall.", said Eddie as he began cowering away. "Me and the guys were...." "Beat it Eddie!!", yelled Mr. Marshall and Eddie took off down the hall faster than a rat in a mousetrap factory. "Dickerson giving you guys any trouble, boys?" , asked Mr. Marshall. "He mouthed off to our new friend from China, Sir. Called him a Commie and everything.", said Johnny. "You guys keep me posted if he gives you any trouble. His Dad is on my bowling team and he told me that Eddie's got some attitude problems. Let me know if he keeps it up, all right guys?" "Yes, Mr. Marshall. We will. Thanks!", they all said. "No problem.", he replied.
During the remaining weeks of winter Ho and his classmates began forging great friendships. They studied together, attended their classes and even found spare time after school to pal around Brookdale. The guys eagerly showed their new friend some of the great places to eat, shop and meet with a new fascination--girls. Some of the girls in Ho's classes thought he was cute and Ho sometimes went out of his way to spend some extra time with a few of them. He soon found himself attracted to one of the prettiest girls in the entire school, a brown haired girl named Emily Wright. She was five foot four, intelligent and one of the top three members of the Brookdale Math Club, an after school club that Ho quickly joined and became the Number One member of due to his excellent math abilities. Emily and Ho began to see a bit more of each other by the Spring Semester and Emily enjoyed getting to know Ho's family and learning many interesting tales about Chinese culture and tradition.
Don't Badger A Badger Page 1
