Unseasoned Laver

How different the school I teach in is from the school I attended as a child. I realize that memory can be a dangerous and obviously slanted way of reporting anything, but memory serves as a way to be more optimistic about the world as well.

Last Thursday, during our brief snack time, I witnessed a small, but lasting image of one of my students, sharing sheets of dried seaweed with other students. This student is not Korean nor is he Japanese. He is, in fact, half French and Jewish, but that's besides the point. I was so busy trying to get a couple of parent volunteers settled that I did not say anything to him at the time. To be honest, I wasn't sure that I was actually seeing what I was seeing, but when the school bell rang to signal the end of a crazy prep-less day, I rewound to a scene from my own school days.

When I was in 2nd or 3rd grade, I remember having my mom make enough Korean pancakes to share with the whole class, though I can't remember exactly what the occasion was. I was so proud to share a bit of my life and one of my favorite foods with my friends and teacher, and I waited in eager anticipation for each to love it as much as I did. I'm sure that some of the students were polite, took the pancake, and gingerly poked at it to make sure that it was not still alive, but then I imagine that they took one small bite, then another, and another until the whole round piece of deliciousness was gone. But what I actually remember, very distinctly, is that several peers took one bite and proceeded to not only throw away the remainder, but also to spit out the bite that they had taken. I remember being utterly embarrassed and ashamed. As an adult, I would have been "offended," a term that we all like to throw out now and again to assert our participation in some cause. As an 8-year old, I felt like I had just been taunted, teased, and laughed at, and at 8, those are the worst kind of offenses to have to face.

And now, I feel so blessed to see so many cultures merge together at my school. I get to see children walking into school and not feeling ashamed that their parents speak English with an accent. I get to hear stories of how some students celebrated Eid or Hannukah or Christmas this winter. Over 100 of us get to cram into a 5th grade classroom to watch Barack Obama talk about this American dream that the realist or pragmatist in me thinks is completely idealistic and a big ol' myth, but when I look at my students, I get this sense of true hope for this scary and unjust world. I get to watch and bear witness to children sharing pieces of unseasoned laver and asking for more...something else I didn't expect to see in my lifetime.