Shadowing Holden

The French Decision
"Very big deal"

Latin was my love. The language was as easy as… well, I don't know. Nothing had come as quickly to me as Latin had. Our separation was painful, starting with the harsh wake up call of signing up for freshman classes. I had had to fight my father for the right to take Latin in the first place because he had wanted me to take Chinese. He said he wanted me to get in touch with the Chinese I had inherited from him. It was a very big deal. It wasn't my fault that I identified more with my haole side. As I signed up for Chinese, I felt like I was selling my happiness for a little of my father's love. I doubted that it was supposed to work that way.

After standing for an hour on the football field for marching band on the first day of school, I rushed down to Chinese. It was placed at such an unfortunate time, right after my 7:30 marching band and PE classes. I quickly got my books and found a seat in the small Castle Hall basement classroom. The diminutive teacher, Lee laoshi, immediately addressed us in Chinese. Oh boy, did I feel I was in over my head when she taught us a greeting that each of us was supposed to repeat at the start of class. Heck, I had the opener of our marching show running, disjointed, through my head waiting to be memorized thoroughly. Next, Lee laoshi handed out what looked like a million papers.

"What a pleasure it is to have you all in this Chinese 1 class. We are going to have lots of fun," she exclaimed. I really didn't know. But I swore to myself that I would try to make the best of it.

As was custom, my mother asked my sister and I how our first days went. Knowing that I was all but forced into taking Chinese, she inquired if I enjoyed the class.

"It was all right," I said, "I have friends in the class, so that'll make it more fun."

The next day, I was not able to get my books in time after PE. I asked her if I could get them. Despite the fact that it was my turn to take attendance and recite the greeting she had taught us the day before, she let me go. She isn't too bad, I thought.

Boy, was I wrong. On the third day of class she yelled at one of my classmates and I had an increasing amount of difficulty understanding her. It wasn't her accent – my grandmother spoke with a thicker accent than hers – but it was her extremely roundabout way of explaining things. I didn't want to disappoint my parents. Rather, I didn't want to face my father's disapproval that I thought would surely come if I dropped Chinese.

Eventually, I felt much too overwhelmed. I went into the dean's office to talk to him about switching from Chinese to French. It was almost like it was meant to be. There was a French class at just the right time, and it wasn't full. With a little switching around of study halls, I would be able to start the very next day. When we reached the part of the meeting where we discussed my parents' feelings, I found that my eyes were watering. In that moment I felt so miserable and pathetic, and angry because I had let myself put my father's approval above my own happiness. I told him that my mother fully supported me and that I would have to speak to my father about my decision