Month: January 2023

prompt: a mentor or a teacher during a tumultuous adolescent years

I stared him straight in the eye and asked him: how do you get by when you have so much challenge? He didn’t say anything for a while. And then he said: “just ask for help.”

Mr. T was my homeroom teacher when I was in high school. Having moved from a different country, I was still unfamiliar with how the American school worked. I pretended to fit in, but probably most kids already knew that I did not fit in.

At that time, I think I was tormented by some thoughts. In retrospect, I suspect it was loneliness. It is not surprising that loneliness had such a strong grip on me at the time. I was isolated at home from the world outside that seemed too different from me. The language they spoke, the way they looked, and their culture were all different from what I was used to. The difference hurt. Just being exposed in the air at sight was a threat. A few seconds in exposure, and then you are followed with curious eyes catching every little move that you make. At an age where relationships with fellow students matter the most, it was a challenging place to be.

Besides a few things, I mostly stayed indoors, often watching tv shows or movies. I wasn’t the friendliest person to hang out with at school. I often felt inappropriate, awkward, and ashamed. I recall many instances of awkward interactions with my peers. I agonized over what others had said, worried about what others might think of me while trying to control myself, which seemed to be overstimulated by the internal chemical influx.

So it is surprising to remember this vivid interaction I had with Mr. T. It was an earnest question: “what do you do when you are in such a tragic situation?” I don’t remember what drove me to ask Mr. T such a question. I remember standing in the middle of the vast green grass of the soccer field (“football,” as Mr. C called it) that leads to the parking lot on the opposite side of the school. I remember tears welling up in my eyes as I asked the question. I remember feeling that somehow the world has done an injustice to a person, who has done nothing wrong, but there is nothing much to do. Although I recall being told by my mom that he was a Vietnam veteran and that he had to leave school for a cancer treatment that won’t be covered by his insurance because he had taken a pause for a bit, I don’t know if that had to do with my question then. It might have been something else.

I remember the calm in his voice and in his expression as he replied to me, who, at the time, was emotionally disturbed. I remember his peaceful facial expression as he simply listened to my question. He paused a little and said: “just ask: ‘help.'”

He silently stared at me with a thin smile, patted my shoulder, and started to walk across a wide, empty green field toward the garage. I believe it was the last time I saw him. To this day, I remember his calm, stoic, and peaceful blue sky on that day.