the bird on fire

The Bird is the Word: Sophisticated Schoolyard Shenanigans

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A Christmas Day Without A Christmas Tree

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–by Zhenzhou Hu

Back when senior Hugh was applying to colleges, he wrote this essay about a community-service project served with his host family, the Wessmans. Hugh used this essay as part of his college application. It worked. Hugh will be attending the University of San Diego next fall. He shares now his essay with The Bird on Fire.

 

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“I guess I’m not going to see a beautiful Christmas tree tonight,” I whined on Christmas Eve as I wandered across the highway 20 miles north of the Mexican border. I had been looking forward to my first Christmas ever since I arrived in America. With child-like wonder, I envisioned a tinsel-topped tree, a traditional turkey dinner, and maybe even a visit from Santa Claus. It was not to be! My host family announced they were going to give away Christmas this year. They wanted to make Christmas about what they could do instead of what they could receive. To me, it didn’t sound like giving it away; it sounded like giving it up.

The plan was to build a house in a week for a needy Mexican family. And now, before we even arrived, we had car trouble. The tension pulley on the fan belt froze. Stranded! Hardly a car passed, and not a store was open. After all, everyone else was already at home enjoying their own beautiful Christmas tree.

Eventually, we made contact with another “Family Helping Families” group traveling toward us. We had never met before, but these people brought us hope and cheer. They backtracked several hours to find the needed parts. They brought water, shared granola bars, and helped find an open Pizza Hut. It wasn’t turkey, but pizza never tasted so good.

Next day, I awoke to a stocking stuffed with work gloves, measuring tape, and a hammer. These weren’t exactly the items on my wish list to Santa. After preparing image-9some food, we drove to the train tracks. As soon as we dropped the tailgate, hungry villagers appeared out of nowhere. We sliced turkey, dished potatoes, and handed out oranges. At first it was awkward; I had never done anything like this before. I couldn’t understand them; they couldn’t understand me. One by one the Mexican children smiled; I smiled back. Later, I surprised myself by playing football in the desert.

The next morning we arrived at a foundation waiting for walls. I made electrical boxes and screeded sand. Trowel in hand, I laid block with mortar. Interior walls appeared with the help of hammers and saws. Roof rafters were hoisted, lined up and set in place. An inexperienced army nailed plywood sheeting. Luckily, the roof held the army’s weight. Finally, we presented the home to a tearfully grateful family.
The building was simple in looks but not simple in meaning. The walls rose up not only block by block, but also with the sweat of our caring character. The building showed I learned several new skills in just five days and also represented an achievement of which I am proud. Recalling the image of the crude building, I see the scenes of my transitional experience in Mexico: the scratchy feeling of sand blowing into my eyes; the callouses earned while troweling a block wall; my host brother and his newfound Mexican friends communicating with their invented sign language; me, enjoying my first delicious street taco; and finally exchanging the overwhelming heat, dust, and poverty for the quiet and contemplative comfort of my own room that was still missing a Christmas tree. The person who left that room on Christmas Eve, however, was a boy. The person who returned was an adult.

 

 

 

The Difference between an American and a Chinese Education

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Unknown –Zhenzhou Hu, former and forever “The Bird on Fire” blogger, ponders the differences between an American and Chinese education. He’s been educated under both systems. Here’s what he had to say.

When I first arrived at boarding school in China far away from home as a six-year-old, I did not cry like many other pupils. Instead of being fearful, I was curious about the new environment and eager to find something enticing. School would be an interesting place, and teachers would be angels who would impart knowledge and encourage exploration. However, I was mistaken. We were required to sit upright with hands still on the desk. “Why can’t we sit leisurely?” When I doubted why1507.m00.i104.n047.p.c25.classroom-education-thin-line-concept-f 1+1 = 2, my math teacher confirmed, with an indisputable tone, “That’s truth. Just remember it.” I was once scolded by my teacher because my score held back the overall GPA of my class. As we entered upper grades, the academic workload became increasingly heavier and most of our spare time was occupied by being tutored. School was no longer the paradise I had expected, and teachers were not the angels I had hoped. Gradually, I felt like I was becoming a puppet–doing what the teachers expected me to do and believing all that the teachers said without questioning or experimenting. I even put away my interest in drawing to save time for the heavy academic burden. 1+1 must = 2! No room for argument.

In 2014, I came to the USA. The first classroom I walked into at Palm Valley School was so refreshing I will always remember it: small class, beautifully decorated classroom, seemingly random but actually well-organized seats, a group of vibrant students, a nice teacher, and a comfortable environment. My classmates were encouraged to express their various ideas, and the teacher gave us tremendous inspiration. The most impressive teacher to me was Ms. Mckee, my math teacher. When I asked puerile questions (like what was the difference between relative maximum and absolute maximum), she always answered, “Excellent question!” and then proceeded to explain it. If I had asked a question like that in China, the teacher would have given me a disparaging glance instead of encouragement. Ms. Mckee gave me the courage to ask questions instead of hiding behind them.
unnamedAlthough I was shy and dared not speak in the first place, I fell in love with this kind of education. Mr. Sarkis, my drama teacher, showed great patience in correcting my pronunciation, which greatly enhanced my performances. I bravely performed Shakespeare as Julius Caesar’s servant at the Fullerton College High School Drama Festival in front of native English speakers. I may not have won an award at this festival, but I won the feelings of success in a job well-done, confidence, and friendship. These prizes will last longer than any trophy.
Compared with my previous school in China, things are quite different at Palm Valley. I am no longer the timid boy who just arrived. I am once again the boy who was passionate, curious and energetic. As a result of my educational experiences in the United States, I want to return to China and teach math to middle school students. I am determined to find young boys and girls who want to know why 1+1=2. And, I will answer like Ms. Mckee, “Excellent question!”