Stuff About Me

Teresa Cho
SOC 1 -
April 2, 2009
Response Paper #1 – Autobiographical Narrative

Pre School Years (1-6)
My memories as a child resided in an old three story building just on the outskirts of Chinatown, San Francisco. At the time, our entire family rented out the bottom floor and scrounged up enough for rent. On that floor was 3 bedrooms, one bathroom, living room, kitchen, a pantry like closet, and a basement, which was communal with the other two floors. About fifteen people lived in that house at one point in time. Needless to say, it was somewhat cramped.

My family was very frugal at the time since they had just moved to San Francisco from China and they were scrounging around to make a living. My grandmother used to collect soda cans and plastic bottles to cash in. One of my most vivid memories was the image of my grandmother spilling a large bag of cans and bottles into our backyard and having us crush them and making them ready for the collection center.

Since I lived with my family, I played with my cousins and my younger brother. We didn't really have much to play with. I remember we were allowed to watch a few shows on television: Barney, Sesame Street and Power Rangers, etc. Despite not having any toys, we crafted our own weapons and fought evil our own way. We also lived close to a local park so we would walk there, sometimes by ourselves, to play. There was a swing set in that park. One day, I was swinging on my stomach and all of a sudden, one of my cousins rushed out and I hit him. His head collided with my head and decided to find its nook in my eye socket. So for the next few weeks, I had a black eye. I was given a boiled egg instead of a frozen egg to rub on it.

I wasn't allowed to have any pets as a child because I've always had sensitive skin and my mom thought that I would get irritated from animals. So, we had fish, which are probably the worst pet you can own. It's more of a decoration than a pet.

The best memory that I have is probably the memory of getting my first library card. The library was right next to the park – within walking distance. My cousin and I walked down to the library by ourselves. We wanted to borrow some books but didn't have a library card. So, the librarian gave us a form to fill out. I was able to read a little and was able to fill out most of the form. However, when I got to the words “parent's signature”, I didn't know what the word “signature” meant. But I did know what parent was. So I guessed that it was for your parents name. I filled that out and gave it to the librarian. I still remember her reaction. She took a look at the form, then looked down at my hopeful eyes, and looked at the form again. Then she said “your parents didn't really sign this, did they?” and then she pointed at the signature whose handwriting matched the rest of the form. I honestly answered “no” because I didn't think that I had done anything wrong. For some reason, perhaps due to my honesty or just plain cluelessness, she gave me my card anyways. I was so proud. Of course, a few weeks later, I had lost it.

There is one memory that I don't remember happening. My dad once told me that I had a severe asthma attack when I was five and I had to be hospitalized for a while. I don't know why I don't remember it. It seems like an important memory. Maybe I just blacked out most of it.

Grade School Years (6-13)
Stereotypes always seem to play itself out. I was brilliant in school (up until college). I not only went to elementary school, I was also required to go to Chinese school and learn my parent's language. As a kid, I really enjoyed learning. Everything was pretty straight forward: arithmetic instead of differential calculus, summarization instead of structured essays, recess instead of work. I was able to pick up the material fairly quickly. I didn't really have a favorite subject. I was good at all of them. My parents thought I was genius and I was proud of that. At that time, I only wanted to make my parents proud of me.

Chinese school was also a piece of cake for me. I had the same teacher for three years. She was my favorite despite my lapse in memory when it comes to her name. In Chinese school, I didn't make many friends. I was very focused on school and made sure that I had near perfect marks. My best friend in Chinese school was probably my teacher. I was the teacher's pet. I don't know if my classmates resented me or not, but I don't remember any of their faces. I was the perfect student; I went to class every day on time, I did all my assignments, I helped the teacher prepare, I made the honor roll countless times. But I didn't stay perfect for long. When I got to 4th grade, my teacher changed. All of a sudden, I was in a new environment. I had to learn new things; I had to learn calligraphy. Oh, I had such a horrible time. I couldn't do it perfectly. I think I was really proud at that age. I had gone through three years of being on top and to fail at something probably crushed me. I pretended to be sick so I didn't have to go to school. I did this for a while before I told my mom that I just didn't want to go back to school. Looking back, I regret it. I speak semi-fluently, but probably not even to the caliber of what I used to be able to speak. And writing is just a nightmare.

Of course, I couldn't just quit elementary school. I still went to my “English” school and made high marks. I actually went to two elementary schools since my parents moved out of that cramped house halfway through my elementary school years. In the first half, I was very tomboyish. I made friends with most of the guys, my best friend being a white guy named Sean. I note his race because he was the only white boy in our class. For some reason, he was put in our ESL class. Perhaps he was half Chinese, but I don't remember. In any case, I would challenge the boys to jungle gym games such as monkey bars and swings and arm wrestling. I was very proud of being stronger than the boys. I remember comparing callouses with everyone; they were my pride and joy. When I went to the second elementary school, I started to hang out with girls more though we still dug for bugs. Then emerged 2nd best friend, Shasta. We were inseparable, until middle school.

I had good experiences in elementary school except for one crazy teacher that I had in 5th grade. We didn't learn anything. Instead of teaching us anything, she would hand us worksheets with 3 digit addition while she had classmates give her massages and braid her hair. She would eat her lunch while we watched videos on black people. Most of the school hated her and prayed to be placed in the other 5th grade class. I wouldn't have minded if she didn't suspend me for activating the fire extinguisher, which I didn't do. There was a time where she isolated the “smart” kids and let them do something productive while she made all the “dumb” students sit quietly because they were just a hassle. The worst teacher I've ever had.

Jr High and High School (13-18)
Middle school was really fun. I went to a “ghetto” school, where they didn't have much expectations for the students so I was able to cruise through middle school with straight A's. In middle school, I was probably able to stop focusing so much on schoolwork and finally develop a social life. I had drifted apart from the friends I made from elementary school and started hanging out with a new group of friends. My mom liked the fact that they were all smart Chinese kids and thought they would be a good influence on me.

Middle school was the time when I started drifting away from my parents. I started locking myself in my room a lot and mindlessly surf the Internet or play games. I didn't really talk to them about anything other than school. They didn't like the fact that I wasn't communicating with them but as time went by, they bothered me less and less, which was why my language skills deteriorated. I started to hang out with my friends more. This was an exciting time because I actually went out without supervision. I remember the first time we made plans, I couldn't sleep because I was so excited. My group of friends also had a dance group going on. Looking back, we really had no talent, but we got together and mimicked some dance moves from some Asian pop star. That was pretty fun.

High school kind of just flew past me. I didn't have any real drama or experiences while I was attending Lowell. It was one of those academic schools that tries to kill its students to prepare them for college. Most of the kids were nerdy and didn't have a reputation of partying. I didn't get exposed to alcohol or drugs all through high school until prom when someone mentioned it.

I don't have a favorite adventure, but I did have a worthwhile one. In my senior year, I went to Toronto with my friend for winter break. We ended up sleeping in the basement of a guy whom my friend met online for two weeks. That was probably the most rebellious thing I've done thus far.

High school was also the time when people started getting jobs. I didn't really need the money, but I thought it would be fun to have a job on the side if I did. I applied to this knife company and got the job. But my friend told me that it was actually a scam and I never went back. Tried a few other job interviews but never got a job in high school.

I had so many different dreams and aspirations during this time. I had wanted to be a journalist, a mechanic, a carpenter, a businesswoman, a programmer. None of them stayed with me for very long and I just toyed with the ideas. Even now I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

College Years (18+)
Ah, college. College gave me panic attacks. The thing that made me feel like an adult was probably after I moved into my apartment. I live with pretty clean people and it was absolutely horrible trying to keep up (I'm somewhat of a slob). I didn't realize how much effort it was to clean a place and to cook my own meals. I experimented with cooking. I really suck at it.

I got my first job at the university library. I still have it. It's a great job. I work in preservations, but most people don't know where it is. It's some room tucked away behind the staff doors. I have to tell them that I fix books up because they don't seem to grasp what I really do.

It was during my college years when my parents started drifting apart from the rest of the family. Every weekend they would go to the casinos and gamble. Even though I went home nearly every weekend, it's possible that I don't see them when I get back. They started called it their “jobs” and I suppose they were making money because my dad doesn't seem like the type of person to gamble our lives away. But I had finally stopped talking to my parents.

College was and still is very hard for me. Often times I found myself feeling really depressed and hopeless because of the endless math classes that I had to take as a programmer. I was barely getting by with the grades that I had. I had to keep telling myself that college didn't define who I was and wouldn't be the defining thing in my life. It helped. A little. But I was very pitiful. I didn't feel like I was worthy of being in school and wanted to drop out of school. But even the slight mention of it would make my mom infuriated. I was stuck.

I also felt that I was losing most of my friend because after we moved out of the dorms, it became hard to get in contact with them. I would just go home every day after my classes and do essentially nothing. I didn't go to parties, I didn't drink or do drugs. I was just a homebody. In most ways, I still feel kind of trapped in college. Hopefully the start of a new quarter will make things better.

I think the most positive influences that I've had come from my parents and just family members. When I was young, I communicated with them all the time and our relationship was solid. My life was happy when I was praised. However, at the same time, they also became a negative influence on me after the praises stopped coming and all they could talk about were the negatives. I became really bitter in the last few years because of this. I suppose part of me is still a kid that just wants to be told that they are doing something right and that their parents are proud of them. But another part of me wishes that I could sever that emotional tie with them and having their insensitive comments affect me. But no matter what, I do realize that my family will always be there for me, unless I come back pregnant, and I am really grateful to have them with me. School will probably continue to haunt me until I finally decide to grow up and take on the responsibilities to do well instead of relying on just getting by. But I just have to do what I have to do.