I just wrote the following in my personal Live Journal, but I thought I'd post it here as well. I wonder if any of you are Americans that might be feeling the same way. I hope I don't offend anyone, this was never my intention.


I am a little over halfway through with a neat little iUniverse published book called The Dancing Lion by Stephen D Barry. A quick book Description is as following:

“	Bill Harris is dismayed when his new principal assigns him to teach classes filled with Vietnamese immigrants. The year starts badly, but takes a dramatic upward turn when the kids enlist him to supervise a cultural club they want to form. Unexpectedly, he finds himself on a magical journey through a culture almost totally unknown to him, his kids thrilled that an American teacher is interested in them and obviously growing to love them.	”

The book is written from the author's personal accounts as a faculty advisor for the VSA and work with Vietnamese immigrants since 1975. I think the book is really interesting, partly because of my own involvment with the Dancing Lion, though our's is more of a Chinese spin than Tet, which they talk about in this book. For instance, each chapter of the book starts with a student's journal entries. One entry talks about the Vietnam war, which in Vietnam, is referred to as "The American War". Of course! It's just neat stuff that you never really think about, but find interesting when you read about it.

But what's really caught my interest is the way the students and families react to the narrator, their ESL science teacher, Bill Harris. He asks them questions about their culture and they are so eager to tell him all about it. One student's family keep inviting him out to cultural events and when he comes, they can't stop telling him how honored they are that he took part. I think it must be really fascinating to be in the position to learn about a new culture from eager speakers. The only "ethnic" people I know are the students from my kung fu temple, Wah Lum. Most of them are Americans, which as the book pointed out, kids who were born in America, or moved here at a very young age, are a lot different than those that have had the time to absorb the culture of their former country. I ask my kung fu sifu, Sifu Tu tons of cultural questions, and he's always very descriptive with his answers. You'll see all the other students start to form circles around him as he talks, adding their own questions. And that's always really nice. But the Second Generations don't seem to know like he does, or at least they don't speak with the same emotion.

Most of the time, when I ask about other people's cultures, I always feel a weird electricity in the air, like the foreigner wonders why I would want to know about them. Maybe they feel like I'm invading. Maybe they're afraid of America taking more of the little bits that's left of their culture. Then I start to feel like I'm somehow being racists, being white, I'm always so afraid someone might think I'm being racists. I've even tried to stop gasping and smiling excitedly when I see different cultural events, because my husband pointed out that it might make them feel like I'm at the circus (never my intentions.)

In the end I go home feeling like a wannabe. Maybe it's because as an American, I don't have my own culture. As Americans, we do have our own unique holidays, like the 4th of July. And we also celebrate holidays with other European countries like Halloween, Valentine's Day, and St. Patrick's Day. But I feel like most of those holidays are either catered only to children (trick- or- treating, Valentine's Day cards in school, pinching those that don't wear green) or just another excuse to consume alcohol. At the end of the holiday, I am left with feeling empty, with confusion as to what I actually should be doing or thinking about.

I guess in some ways, Americans are lucky because most of us are so multi-cultural we can take part in many different cultures, not just American, but also those of the many countries that makes us up. For instance I'm mostly German with Swiss, Polish, and Scotch- Irish. My strongest culture was also the easiest to access because my Grandmother immigrated from Germany when she was a teenager. But because she married into a very disaproving Polish family, and because of what Germany has done over the 20th century, the culture is sadly repressed. My own taste of any of my ancestry was my father making kielbasa and his list of Dumb Pollock jokes printed out on the fridge.

In Barry's story, the children talk a lot about how happy they were to come to America, and how they try to assimilate the culture. One brother was able to leave Vietnam at a very young age. And when his sister finally came, she was so much "old country" he was embarrassed by her. I thought that was a little odd because lately, I've been so embarrassed by what my country has been doing and it seems to have so many ideas that I don't agree with. This is not to say that I think if I moved anywhere else things would be perfect. A little part of me just cringes any time I see a photo of a foreign landscape with a McDonald's on the horizon, or a tribal looking gent with some sort of hip hop culture refrence on his shirt. I guess in some ways it seems counter productive to reject the only culture I have.

Not only do I really respect children like the immigrants in Barry's story for coming to a strange country with a strange language. But I'm also envious of the strong culture that they feel: the enthusiasm that they have for joining the Vietnamese Culture club and signing up for events, or the skills they posses in customs like the lion dancing or the candle dance. Also, the strong bond to their family: the way they excitedly attend cultural events or how tears come to their eyes when they see how Americans just throw their elderly into nursing homes. They're culture feels like it comes from something real: age old tradition. They won't throw it away the minute MTV tells them to do something else.