How I wish I remembered your names. Fumiko and Noriko? Guess my bad memory can protect your identity. Anyway I do remember you from seventh-grade chorus. You were the new Chinese girls. In all likelihood you came from Japan or Korea, but twenty years ago anyone of Asian decent in middle school was Chinese.
In addition to wrangling overly social and sufficiently rude pre-teens, Mrs. Chorus Teacher worked earnestly to achieve something approaching blend. Perhaps this explains her badgering “Its are you go-ING to Scarborough Fair, NOT are you goEEEN. Go-ING, not go-EEN, okay? Let’s try it again” and you would both nod earnestly, and all eighty of us would begin again only to have her abort conducting (index finger and thumb still in o-formation, pinkie fingers raised) and continue hassling you.
Somehow, mid Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey choreography, and 50’s sock-Hop Medley!, a sort of friendship bloomed. In middle school terms, this friendship likely consisted of “those two girls seem cute and popular and outgoing and we have no friends and speak-no-Engrish,” or maybe our friendship entailed sitting near each other on the alto riser. In any case, you invited Meg and I to your birthday party. No formal invitation arrived in the mail, just an awkward exchange following the big Turn on your Heart light (complete with turn-key hand gesture)finale. Meg and I reluctantly accepted the invitation, feeling uncertain about the terms of the agreement and potential social ramifications.
On the day of the party, Meg and I spent a leisurely morning at the mall, biding our time and our ambivalence. We finally rallied and made an appearance at the party (we moved around with a lot of autonomy for 12-year-olds, often taking the city bus or riding bikes). We timidly knocked on the door. Fumiko and Noreko answered and ushered us in. A look of palpable relief swept over their Mom’s face. Turns out the guest list consisted of: 1) Meg and 2) Me, and we sauntered in Two. Hours. Late. I remember having some not-altogether-familiar snacks and playing a tile game that we could not begin to understand. They spoke no English. Our Chinese was rusty at best. I doubt if we brought any gifts.
Meg and I felt relieved when we could leave, and legitimately ashamed at our initial disregard of the girls and their party. Noriko and Fumiko didn’t seem to hold a grudge and we continued a friendly acquaintanceship. At least that’s how I remember it. Perhaps the fact that I really don’t remember what happened after the party just disrespects them all over again. Noriko? Fumiko? I apologize for my over-privileged-dominant-majority-probably undertones of bigotry-myopic-preteen-worldview…How awkward.
Thank you to Tovah for originating Totally Awkward Tuesdays–an excellent receptacle for my armloads of awkardness…
I apologize for my over-privileged-dominant-majority-probably undertones of bigotry-myopic-preteen-worldview…
Ann, I dig that sentence right there!!! It is so very true for all of us during that time in our life. Different people confused me. I was myopic beyond belief. Very narrow in my world views back then! Thank goodness, I’ve changed!!!
Anyway, great post girlie!!! You rock every single time!!!!
Happy Tuesday!!!!
You do rock every time…. And I pray that all the things we did as teenagers are overlooked if there is some kind of great reckoning when we die. *shudder* The preteen and teen years are NOT a good time to examine closely.
The tween years are the most awful time in a girl’s life! Those were the years that I really detested most of the girls in my 2 daughters classes. Why are 12 year old girls so mean-spirited? Thank goodness most of that was gone by the time they entered high school (or the girls wre able to mask it better)
We didn’t see very much diversity in our town. In the 60s and early 70s, segregation was still the name of the game and my town was lily white.
In 3rd grade, the first day of school, our new teacher walked in the room and I’ll never forget it. Sr. Mary Theresita was black! The kids all sat in stunned silence. I remember she was pretty cool though and we all liked her. It was most likely our first experience of someone of color.
I, too, am SO glad we got over that! My kids have grown up in a racially diverse neighborhood, and they have friends of all ethnicities, religions and sexual preferences. I’ve come a long way, baby!
I met those two girls when I was in China last year. They’re both in therapy. In the nuthouse. I had a lot more to say but Vodka Mom keeps dinging my inbox and I;m so distracted cos she just said she sent me wine. I think she thinks I need it. Oh…I do…
Uh…Ann? You’re nuts 🙂
We never really know the impact we have made. That’s why I run away from Facebook.
Isn’t it funny the things we remember from childhood…
haha, precisely why I got rid of my facebook account! memories of childhood friends should stay that way
Let us just all hope that as parents we’re able to bring more light to our children’s lives than what our parents did for us. Different times, different measures. 🙂 And if your memory is at all semi-accurate and their names ended in KO….I’d like to take a stab and say they’re Japanese.
Middle school. Why do you think we act like that at thatage? Hmm. But at least you guys went. That is something.
I’m guessing they weren’t even Asian and you probably still don’t have their names right! Ahahaha. How awkward.
I don’t even want to remember the awkward things I did at 12… I think bad memory is just plain mercy.
How awkward!
I went to school with a “chinese” kid too. He was called Chris (I’m sure that wasn’t his real name) and he was the most fluent 1st grade cusser you ever heard. I don’t know if his parents rented Richard Pryor to learn english or what.
I also don’t remember many of the things I did at twelve. Perhaps we’d call that selective memory. If the worst myopic oops you made was arriving at a birthday party 2 hours late, I think you are leaps ahead of many of us.
Despite that, totally dug the story, LOL!
Michelle, you rock every comment I have to say!
Amy, I think God is too busy with practical jokes to keep track of all that.
Joanie, thanks for your insights. Nice to think we’re moving in the right direction.
Braja, Ya think?!? 😉
Comedy Goddess, Good call.
Anne, welcome! Blogging brings back all manner of things I probably would’ve forgotten.
Andy! Welcome to my blog. You are the only other person I’ve ever met who also broke up with Facebook!
Tooj, now I really feel like a putz!
Morgan, Thanks, it did take all the courage we had. We were so uncomfortable.
Ryan, Oh my gosh. Come to think of it, they were ITALIAN.
Snarky, Thanks for coming over! Awkward indeed.
Hood chick, that is hilarious.
Yikes. No painful middle school memories for me. What white middle class kid didn’t want to hang out with someone named Ram Venkatararam? Oh, yeah, all of them.
Thanks for the post!
Oh, I’m sure if I thought about it I have a number of awkward memories of that time, of the casual cruelty. Some of it we inflicted on others, some was inflicted upon us.
I would never want to be young again.
🙂
Pearl
Such a well told story, you really captured the twelve year old awkwardness. Wanting to be kind, wanting to completely blend. I’m with Lyndsay, I’m kind of glad my memory sucks.
I agree with Braja – you’re absolutely nuts!
But I adore you because of it!! 🙂
I almost lost my frickin’ mind at “speak-no-Engrish”. If I tried to tell this story there would be crickets creaking in the background from the lack of laughter and somebody would, inevitably, ask, “Is it over yet?”
I can think of some unkind things I did as a preteen. I wasn’t trying to be mean, I was just so self-focused. I’m a better person now.
For a winning version of “turn on your heartlight”, try Neil Diamond’s late 1980’s “Hot August Night II”