Category Archives: China

Dahu Park

By Eason Lin, age 10, Taiwan

One Thursday, my classmates, teachers, and I went to Dahu Park to study nature. Dahu park’s moon bridge is one of the most famous places in the whole world. That’s because, at night, it shines bright like the moon! On the bridge, I saw something huge floating on top of the water. I wondered what it was, so I went down to look; when I saw what it was, I wished I hadn’t. There was a rotting, dead, ugly fish floating in the pond. My friend Jasper came over to see what I was looking at and he almost threw up. I asked him if he needed medicine, he said he needed me to get that fish as far away from him as possible. I poked it with a stick, I realized that it was hard and it’s eye was missing. I was totally disgusted. I lost my appetite. Our teacher, sensing what was about to happen, took us away from the pond.

We walked for a while, avoiding the lake and bridges. After a while, our appetites came back. We started to feel hungry when we arrived at the restaurant. After we ate, we kept exploring Dahu Park. As we crossed over a bridge, I tried not to look into the water.

Then, I saw three old men fishing. Two looked exasperated and nervous, the other was calm. They looked like they were competing. I got closer. One of them swore under his breath when a fish nibbled the bait and swam away. The calm one however, patiently waited for a fish to fall into the trap. He wore a hat that made him look like a cowboy and also had a lot of other fishing gear. When he finally caught a fish, I was so happy I could’ve jumped into the lake. But then, the fish managed to squirm out of the old man’s hand, falling back into the lake. I was so disappointed that I moaned in despair. After a while, he caught another one. This one was really small. I expected him to put it in a container or something, but no, he threw it to a nearby bird. It gobbled it up happily. The other birds looked at it with jealousy, then moved closer to the old man. I was shocked. He worked so hard and finally caught a fish, and he threw his first one to a bird!

I thought maybe the disgusting fish earlier had something to do with this old man’s actions. The fish he caught had been scrawny and looked sick. I was so close to him that I could hear him mutter something about the people polluting the water. That’s when I realized what he was talking about. The reason why we saw the dead fish earlier was because people were polluting the water. I noticed the fish he caught had the same black pattern on its scales as the dead fish. Those weren’t scales, those were the result of bad chemicals. I felt really bad for the fish. Maybe someone threw some trash with chemicals into the water. Then another person threw another piece of trash into the lake. Maybe when the two chemicals were mixed together, they created a new deadly substance that killed the fish. This doesn’t just affect the fish, it affects us too. If the smaller fish get poisoned, and the big fish eat them, the big fish will get poisoned. If we eat the poisoned fish, we will get poisoned. Then, Dahu park will not be famous for its moon bridge, it will be famous for it’s dead fish.

We, humanity, need to think about our actions before doing them. If we don’t stop littering, it will be our turn to become polluted and sick.

—Eason Lin, age 10, Taiwan.

“I speak Chinese and English. I don’t care about anything else other than growing up healthily. I want to be an author when I grow up. My teacher and my classmates inspired me to write my submission. In my spare time, I like to read books. I like Taiwan because it’s peaceful and beautiful. So I wouldn’t want to damage it. I tell my classmates not to litter, or Taiwan will turn ugly.”

Butterfly

Butterfly

By Richard Siyi HE, 17, P. R. China

It’s the antennae, then the wings, then…flight.

It slowly took off, the blue velvet-like sheen on its wings reflecting onto a large red enchanting flower below it, so intense; the obsidian-like eyes silently gazed at the sky that was inferior to its blue, disdainfully glanced at the flowers below, and slowly swayed in the soothing breeze.

“Hello, I should call you ‘Number 86’… Oh no, let’s call you ‘Flutterby’,” a young girl smiled at it. Her blonde hair and turquoise eyes blended in with the flowers, looking very natural and pretty.

“Oh, this blue-spangled butterfly turned out to have successfully emerged. I had thought it was a damaged butterfly. Having seen you take care of it day and night, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” Her father came to her side, “You know, in order to prevent these butterflies from becoming extinct, we can only evolve them into higher predators. Well, since those despicable interest-driven people have taken their habitat, on which they depend, away. But anyway, hopefully, we didn’t over-evolve them.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing, but we should go home for dinner. Let’s go!” The girl reluctantly followed her father out of the hexahedral simulated breeding greenhouse.

Not long after they left, Flutterby began to fly steadily. Its eyes slowly fixated on a praying mantis, which was also staring at it. As if provoked, the praying mantis pounced over with its sharp scythes waving fiercely. Flutterby took advantage of the airflow created by the scythes with just one slight flap of its seemingly frail and thin wings, dodged the fatal blow, and landed behind the mantis. It then plunged its proboscis into the head of the mantis and began sucking. The praying mantis twitched for a moment before falling to the ground, its scythes still swinging helplessly.

Soon, the first batch of butterflies was ready to be released into an artificially simulated natural environment. They came to a beautiful hillside and brought many newly emerged blue-spangled butterflies in boxes. “Don’t be nervous. This area has been equipped with a well-developed defense system. If the results are not satisfactory, we can easily eliminate them all. But the simulated environment here is no different from their habitat. Come on, let’s get started.”

The little girl nodded and prepared to gently open the lid with both hands, her palms sweating profusely. But just before opening the lid, she asked softly, “If the results are not satisfactory, is killing them all the only choice?”

“Oh, rather than saying we are killing them, let’s say it’s more like natural selection.”

The little girl reluctantly opened the lid, and the blue-spangled butterflies flew out continuously. In the company of sunlight and breeze, they flew towards the forest, lake, hillside, and stream. Up close they looked like slow-moving blue elves and from far away they looked like a large piece of blue silk rippling with the wind, slowly disappearing into the distance. The little girl smoothed her windswept hair and watched them leave.

“Oh, so sorry, I really didn’t expect to have such a massive outbreak of the butterflies. Hmm…Okay, I’ll be right there.” The little girl’s father hung up the phone and anxiously prepared to leave. The little girl asked curiously, “What’s wrong? Need my help?”

“Oh, the experiment results were terrible. They completely disrupted the ecological balance of that area. But it’s okay, you wait at home.” After that, he kissed her and left.

As soon as the little girl’s father arrived at the release site, he pressed the backup restart button. Time began to speed up, and then the butterflies began to reproduce in large numbers. Billions of blue-spangled butterflies densely covered every tree. The meteor shower made up of them in the sky searched for the trace of any prey. Whenever found, they would frantically wrap their prey. Their sharp proboscises pierced the prey’s body like needles and the blood that splattered on their wings made their wings full of blood-red eyes. Their larvae ate almost all of the leaves and dense black-red larvae wriggled together, even cannibalizing each other. But it didn’t take long for the reproduction rate of prey and host plants to slow down and a large number of butterflies starved to death…The blue-spangled butterflies were eliminated by natural selection. And this process only took a few minutes.

The little girl saw that her father’s face was very pale when he came back. Her father said weakly, “I’m sorry, we may have to terminate this experiment.” The little girl’s eyes welled up with tears. “Oh no, why? There must be a solution, right? Right? Please, please!”

“I’m sorry.” Both were silent, “Time to go to bed, okay?”

In the afternoon, when her father went out, the little girl quietly ran into the greenhouse to say a final goodbye to the butterflies. Flutterby gently stopped on her fingertip. It was so beautiful and charming, and then she was shocked to find that Flutterby was pregnant! The little girl bit her lip and took a deep breath, quietly taking it out of the greenhouse. “You can go. Although I don’t know if this is right.” But Flutterby didn’t leave, as if waiting for her to make a final decision, “Before I change my mind.”

Flutterby gently flew up and headed towards the sunset. Through her tearful eyes, the little girl seemed to see the blue light on the butterfly’s wings and the orange light reflected by the sunset meet to create a fireworks-like pattern of brilliant colors, dancing with the wind in search of light.

Underneath the angelic face of Flutterby, a devilish smile loomed.

—Richard Siyi HE, age 17, high school junior, People’s Republic of China. Richard adds: “I am obsessed with biology but also love writing. My favorite places are butterfly gardens all over the world (unfortunately, Beijing’s Colorful Butterfly Garden has gone). I am trying to breed butterflies and their host plants in the hope of protecting endangered butterflies.”

I Have Two Names

By Joy (Peixin) Yin, grade 7, Mexico.

I have two names; a Chinese name and an American one. My Chinese name is Peixin (沛心) . It means “pure heart.” My American name is Joy. My parents named me that because they want me to be happy.

My Chinese name is the one that is official. It’s written all over my legal documents. On first days of school, when the teacher calls roll, I’m always last, because my last name is Yin (尹). But I always need to correct them, “I go by Joy, though.” Sometimes, the teacher forgets and keeps calling me Peixin. And sometimes, I hear laughs and giggles from my classmates. I feel guilty to say, that sometimes, I feel a bit ashamed for having a Chinese name. So, when someone asks me, “What’s your name?” I always tell them to call me Joy. When the substitute pauses while taking attendance, it’s always me. When I write my name on my computer or phone, it always gets autocorrected. It’s almost as if the universe hates my name.

My American name is what they call me. When my family moved to the U.S., my parents gave me my American name so it would be easier for people to remember me, and for it to not be awkward and embarrassing for me every time someone pronounced my Chinese name wrong. My American friends all know me as Joy. I feel connected to the name; I feel like it’s me. Yet, I always get reminded of my real name.

But after three years of living in my hometown in China again, my feelings towards my name have changed. In China, my classmates and teachers all called me Peixin (pronouncing it perfectly!), and I was normal for once. In school, I was able to improve my Mandarin as well (a hard process, but worth it!). During that time, I also felt more connected to my culture, and learned more about it, although I sort of missed my American name and identity.

By now, I’ve accepted the fact that both of my names are part of my identity. Different parts of it. And I’ve embraced my Chinese name more. Especially after I saw many Asians at my new international school use only their Asian names.

My two names are two parts of my identity—living together in harmony, forever and always.

—Joy (Peixin) Yin, grade 7, Mexico. She adds: “Born in Wuhan, China, I have also lived in California for five years. I speak and write Mandarin Chinese and English but I am also trying my best to learn Mexican Spanish. I have never been a sports person. Instead, I’ve always loved reading and writing. I’m currently 13 years old, and attending an international school in Mexico City.”

Polly Bemis: A Pioneer Chinese Woman in the Northwest

Polly Bemis

Pioneer Chinese Woman in the Northwest

By Fanny Wong, New York

In 1872, on a pier in Portland, Oregon, an eighteen-year-old Chinese girl waited. She had been smuggled to America, far away from her village in China.

My father was so poor he sold me for two bags of seeds for the next planting!

The girl closed her eyes and saw the image of bamboo that grew near her old home.

I am like a bamboo. A bamboo bends in the wind. I will bend but not break.

“Gong Heng!” A Chinese man called out.

The girl’s eyes flew open.

“I’m taking you to your master in Warren, Idaho,” said the man.

For nine days, the man led the pack train of mules on mountainous trails to the mining town. For nine days, Gong Heng gazed in wonder at the majestic Northwest wilderness. It helped soothe her worries.

What’s going to happen to me?

In Warren, the mules plodded down a rutted street to a saloon. A stranger hoisted the girl from the mule and announced to the people around, “This is Polly.”

Gong Heng wondered who they were talking about. Soon, she realized that Polly was her new name in this strange new land.

I was born in the year of the ox. I am stubborn and hard working. I will survive and I will go home.

Polly’s owner was an old Chinese man.He put her to work in the saloon. Men came to gawk at the one Chinese girl in town, and stayed to drink and play cards. She served drinks, cleaned tables, and swept floors. Her presence made her master’s saloon different from the others in town, including the one next door, owned by kind Charlie Bemis.

Sometimes Charlie heard trouble brewing in her master’s saloon. He would march over to break up a fight and stay to talk to the cheerful young girl who worked so hard and always had a smile on her face.

Soon Polly, a fast learner, could understand and speak some English.

One night, Polly swept the saloon after the last customer had left. Something on the floor caught her eye. It glittered. It gleamed. It was a gold nugget. She slipped it into her pocket.

A miner must have dropped it when he paid for his drinks with gold dust or a nugget.I may find some more.

On rare nights, she did spy gold dust, flakes and even nuggets. Even though she knew it would take years to scrounge enough gold to buy her freedom, there was hope on the saloon floor.

Month after month passed. Polly was always doing something to save money to buy her freedom. Charlie taught her how to work with gold. Polly made trinkets out of nuggets and sold them. She learned to make bread, stew, sauerkraut, fruit preserves, and other foods the miners liked.

“I learn right along,” she said to Charlie, pointing to her head.

Then everything changed. Polly’s master died. The girl who had been sold for two bags of seeds was now a free woman.

What’s going to happen to me?

Polly had a big decision to make.

Should I buy passage back to China with my money? A Chinese friend wrote letters for me but I haven’t received any answer from my parents. Have they forgotten me? Where do I belong?

Even though there was a lot of discrimination against Chinese people in America, life in China for a young woman from a poor family was even worse. Polly made up her mind to stay. But what would she do? Where would she live?

At that time, a Chinese person could not buy property. Charlie could, with Polly’s money. He bought a boarding house for her. Before long, Polly’s boarding house was a popular place for people who passed through or miners who stayed longer. She was a good listener to their tales of woe and troubles.

Soon, Polly had woes of her own. Mining towns were violent places. Charlie got shot in the cheek.

“Will he make it?” Polly’s voice shook.

“I’m sorry, Polly. I’ve done all I could,” the doctor said. “Just make him comfortable till the end.”

It was then that Polly realized Charlie meant more to her than just a friend.

“Charlie won’t die. You see, I take care of him.”

Week after week, Polly nursed Charlie back to health. She packed herbs over the wound. She made nutritious soups to help him get strong. With Charlie’s recovery, Polly gained respect from the community for her loyalty and nursing skill.

Everyone in Warren knew Polly. Women were few and they were generally not respected. But this Chinese woman was trustworthy, kind and cheerful.

Charlie and Polly were married after his recovery. Soon after, Charlie took her by boat eighteen miles up the Salmon River. The land Charlie wanted to buy at the bottom of the canyon was flat enough to make a homestead.

“Well, what do you think?” Charlie asked.

“I love this wild place,” Polly said. “Need hard work.”

With her blessing, Polly and Charlie became the first to settle by the Salmon River. They kept chickens, a dog, a cow, and a few horses. Using farming skills learned from her childhood in China, she nurtured the soil and coaxed cabbage, beans, corn, and fruit trees to grow strong and bountiful.

Polly hauled water from the river. She fed the animals. She chopped wood. Although life was not easy on this rugged patch of land, she was content. The babble of the river and the wildlife around her soothed her.

Charlie and Polly lived an isolated life until Peter Klinkhammer and Charlie Shepp settled across the river. The new neighbors became best friends. They took Polly’s produce as well as their own to Warren to sell and buy necessities, such as coffee, soap, thread and fishing gear.

She made friends with prospectors who passed her homestead. “I feed you a good meal.”

This five-foot tall Chinese pioneer, brown and wrinkled from the sun and age, became a folk legend. Journalists and visitors traveled to see this feisty woman who told them her improbable life story.

One day, in the summer of her 28th year on their homestead, Polly was fishing on the banks of the river.

Fire! She saw smoke licking out the upstairs window of the room where Charlie was bedridden. Her heart raced as fast as her feet to save Charlie.

“Hurry, Peter!” she shouted to her neighbor as he crossed the river on a boat. Peter and Polly carried Charlie down the stairs through the smoke.

After the fire, Charlie and Polly stayed with the neighbors. Sadly, Charlie died several months later. Lost in grief, Polly again wondered. What’s going to happen to me?

She closed her eyes and saw the image of the bamboo that grew in her village.

I am like a bamboo. A bamboo is strong and it bends in the wind. I will bend but not break!

“Can you build me a small cabin right where the old one was?” Polly asked her neighbors.

“American soil in my fingernails; here to stay.”

Polly’s neighbors built her a small cabin on the same spot of the burned home. She lived there alone for ten years, a pioneer to the end.

Polly had found her place in the world in the wilderness of the Northwest. A girl who was sold for two bags of seeds became a pioneer woman!

Author’s Note:

Gong Heng was born in China in 1853. Her farming family was rich enough that Gong Heng’s feet were bound. At that time, foot binding was still practiced in China. Women with small feet were thought be feminine. Girls as young as five or six, from well-to-do families, had bindings on their feet to prevent them from growing. It was a painful process and the feet became grossly deformed.

When Gong Heng’s family fell into hard times, her mother released the binding so the girl could help in farming. Her feet were already deformed and never grew to full size. As a result, her gait was an unusual rolling one.

During the late 19^thcentury, many Chinese women were brought to the United States, mostly against their will. Gong Heng was one of them. When she was a young teenager, a prolonged drought ruined the harvests, and the countryside was overrun by bandits. In desperation, her family sold her to a group of bandits for two bags of seeds for the next planting. She was their slave until she was sold to a woman who smuggled her to the United States.

A Chinese man in Warren, Idaho, probably bought Gong Heng sight unseen through a middleman. Now known as Polly in Warren, she was very resourceful and hard working. She learned the cooking styles and customs of White folks. She was renowned for her kindness and nursing skills. To the White residents and miners of Warren, Polly was an eyeopener. They were accustomed to the poor Chinese miners who lived in shacks in another part of the town. Polly was feisty, cheerful and intelligent. Unlike the dancing girls in the saloons, she was a woman they respected.

Still, America didn’t seem like home to her until her husband, Charlie Bemis, bought a small piece of land by the Salmon River in 1922. It was there that Polly became a pioneer woman, living off the land and making it a home.

At the age of 80, Polly suffered a stroke. Her neighbors took her to a hospital in Grangeville 87 miles away. But she died and was buried in Grangeville. Fifty-four years later, her remains were exhumed and reburied next to her home on the Salmon River.

Polly never could become a citizen of the United States, even by marriage. In 1943, ten years after her death, the law that denied naturalization to Chinese immigrants was repealed.

At the time of her death, she was well-known in Idaho. Journalists wrote about her. Polly’s restored cabin is now listed in the National Register of Historic Places, and she was inducted into the Idaho Hall of Fame in 1996. Her belongings are displayed in the Idaho State Museum. Polly had become a legend.

Bibliography

Elsensohn, M. Alfreda, Idaho Chinese Lore, Idaho Corporation Of Benedictine Sisters Cottonwood, Idaho. 1993

Wegars, Priscilla, Polly Bemis, Caxton Press, Caldwell, Idaho. 2020

http://americansall.org/legacy-story-individual/polly-bemis (accessed 2-9-2021)

Peace Through Awareness

Peace Through Awareness

“I am not a virus.” That was the message on many of the signs to call out anti-Asian hate. Asian hate crimes during Corona have rocked our country back and forth, but even before Corona pandemic came into our world, Anti-Asian hate crimes existed. We’re living in a time of change, with black people getting killed, Corona virus, Asian hate, and to top that all off, Russia’s war in Ukraine. Peace is hard to come by these days.

Back when Corona started, my mom talked to me about Asian hate crimes. She said that President Donald Trump called the virus “the China virus.” It was basically his way of saying, “Oh, this pandemic is all because of Chinese people.” That made me feel sad, but at that time I felt that there wasn’t really anything I could do.

Unlike me, other people were already doing rallies, and a few people had formed an organization called Stop AAPI Hate. News spread even faster than Corona virus. A few months later, my family went to an Anti-Asian Hate support rally in Fort Lee, and we heard people speak about the hate crimes. My parents had heard about it from our friend. It was on a field, with a big “Be Fort Lee” sign. The supporters were crowded around a table, and the speakers spoke in a microphone. People brought their families with them, including their kids. They made signs to show their support. The signs said things like “Love,” and some even used drawings. One sign I remember clearly was a person with a mask, and the artist used rather dark colors to show their pain and fear.

I may not have understood then how painful the attacks were, because I hadn’t even made a sign. But the rally encouraged some other people. Recently, my mom and her coworkers started a podcast. It focused on the Asian Americans living in Queens, NY. I loved listening and learning the stories of these Asian American people, but the podcast also helped me understand the depth of Asian hate in the country. The podcasters would give some snippets of the attacks on Asians such as GuiYing Ma, a 62-year-old lady that was hit on the head with a rock by a stranger. She was sweeping the sidewalk outside her Jackson Heights home on Nov. 26th when a man ambushed her, smashing a large rock against the left side of her head just inches from her eye.

Mrs. Ma woke up in a hospital after a coma and even waved to her husband, though her brain was damaged. For a while everything seemed like it was going to be okay. But then she died. When I heard that, I was shocked. How could someone just kill her, when she didn’t even do anything wrong? What if this had been someone close to me? What if it had been someone in my family?
Then I started speaking up.

“Does anyone else want to share?” My teacher at school asked. It was a few days before Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and my class was talking about equal rights and what movement we would like to stand up for.

“Noah?”

“I’m Asian, so I want to stand up against Asian hate. There are attacks going on, and many people have gotten hurt.”

I wasn’t the only one speaking about this. Several of my other friends pitched in, and talked about the attacks, and one almost made the teacher cry with her answer, which was more like a speech. Now I finally felt like I was part of this. Not a really big part, but enough that some people at least know about it. Who knows, they could spread the word, and more and more people will hear about it and speak up against the hate crimes. I might not be some famous speaker that would win the Nobel Peace Prize, but I did something to bring a little, just a little, more peace in our world.

By Noah Xia, age 9, Asian American, New York. She adds: “I like to write, read, play piano, and draw. I write poems, short stories and essays. I enjoy playing with my brother and riding my bike along the Hudson River. Even if I don’t have a piece of paper nearby, I make up stories in my head. In fact, one of my greatest stories (according to my brother) was completely improvised! My submission talks about the hate crime attacks against Asians and how they affected me. At first, I didn’t think I could do anything about the attacks, but I ended up actually bringing a little more peace in our world. I believe that world peace is possible, but we’re just not quite there yet…”

Pumpkin Cakes: A Traditional Chinese Breakfast

Traditional Chinese Pumpkin Pies (Cakes) Make a Perfect Chinese Breakfast (and a Delicious Dessert too).

To make the traditional Chinese breakfast of pumpkin cakes, you will need:

1/4 pumpkin, 2 tbsp sugar, 200g rice flour, red bean paste (optional), and white sesame seeds (optional).

You will need to prepare the pumpkin first.

Get rid of pumping seed and it’s inside fiber.
Peel off pumpkin skin.
Slice into thin pieces ~3mm. Thinner pumpkin slices will reduce the time it takes to be cooked.
Boil the Water first and Steam it in a bowl for 10 min.
After steaming, pour out water from the bowl if any.
Will need to add 2 tbsp sugar and smash it until there are no pumpkin lumps left.

Making the dough

Add in 50g of the rice flour, and mix evenly. Repeat 4 times. Do not add-in all the flour at once.
What we want is a rather soft dough. (If you have reach this texture, you don’t need to add exactly the same flour amount as I did; different pumpkin and flour will perform differently).

Making the pumpkin pie

Take approximately half a hand fist of dough.
And rub into a ball shape, then press over the dough making a round cake shape.
If you have red bean paste you can take a scoop of it and place it on the pie shaped dough and close it up and repeat step 2. If you are adding the paste make sure your pie shaped dough is thinner and bigger. Don’t add too much of the paste.
If you have a plate of white sesame, run both sides of the finished pie in the plate, you can press upon the pie softly allowing sesame to stick to the surface of the pie.

Cooking the pie

Preheat the frying pan.
Put in enough oil to cover the bottom of the frying pan.
Add in the pie when oil is hot enough.
Cook the cakes on low medium heat.
After every one minute, flip the cake(s) over to the other side. Prevent overcooking on one side.
To test if it’s cooked. You press upon the pie (cake) and if its shape returns quickly it means it’s cooked. Normally it takes 2-4 minutes.

Pumpkin pie is full of nutrients and is very delicious. Chinese often have pumpkin pie as a dessert or breakfast. Pumpkin pie has the best taste the day it’s made, so please enjoy and finish them quickly after made. This recipe makes 5 to 8 pies; you can adjust the recipe proportionally for your family size!

Wendy Mou, age 16, California. Wendy is an active student who enjoys creative outlets including food. For example, baking is her preferred way to relax after school work and family chores. Since her childhood, she has always held respect for the natural ingredients that go into her food. Currently, she is in the process of starting a food science club at her school. She looks up to those unique recipe makers, and hopes to become one someday.

Festival of Mid-Autumn Moon

 By Chiu-yi Rachel Ngai, 16, Arkansas.

Lanterns bloom like flowers, the light and colour of crowded city streets.
Folded paper, a slinky of patterns,
Dancing as the candle flame flickers a pattern silhouette.
There are plastic lanterns these days, thick and rubbery with a strange smell,
Lit up with a mini LED bulb.
They come in all shapes and sizes, pop culture and cartoon designs.
Mickey Mouse, Power Rangers, Doraemon.
I remember my cousin had an Elsa once, a matching pair with her Anna-toting sister.
We met with mooncakes under a full moon,
Lotus paste sticky sweet, salted egg yolk seawater respite.
Our ancestors looked up at the same moon, and now we stand in their light—
A product of their mistakes and triumphs.
We stand tall, a proud new generation,
Eager to take on the world outside our Hong Kong,
Not knowing how much our bubble would change in the years that watched us grow.

I was fourteen when I left on a fifteen hour flight to the United States,
Creating a half-globe’s distance within my heart.
I write this at sixteen, a full lifetime for so many before me, a full lifetime for still too many.
Arkansas is American Southern, dry and green and different and not a bad place to be—
And yet I remain a daughter of the Asian East—
My bones do not feel like they belong.

I sat under the ever-present moon last Mid-Autumn, my second in the States,
Eating mooncakes gifted by my art teacher, the only other Chinese person I know in the area.
I look up to the sky, to the stars my cousins do not see, the stars drowned by neon light—
I look up to the sky, to the moon my family looked at thirteen hours ago, the moon my ancestors saw a woman’s story in.
The moon keeps me close to home.

By Chiu-yi Rachel Ngai, 16, Arkansas. She adds: "I grew up in the bustling streets of Hong Kong. I moved to the U.S.
when I was fourteen in order to get a better education. I am fluent in English and Cantonese. I can understand Mandarin/
Putonghua better than I can speak it. I am working on overcoming my internalized racism towards myself for being Chinese,
and I decided to submit to Skipping Stones as part of my journey towards accepting myself and finding pride and
joy in my cultural identity."

Taiwanese Food

By Camille Chen, age 10, Asian American, California.

I eat, sleep, and speak Taiwanese culture every day. Not a day goes by without my speaking Taiwanese or eating Asian food. My parents moved from Taiwan to America before they had me. Their childhoods were very different though, because my dad had to travel with his family because of his dad’s job. My mom experienced the art of Asian foods, and learned how to cook Asian food from her mom, her grandma, and other elder family members.

I think that to be in an Asian family, it is a necessity to be able to at least cook some egg-fried rice. There are so many people out there that make such simple things the wrong way. You wouldn’t know how many videos are on YouTube with Asians looking at other people cooking Asian food and correcting them. Also, I think that Asian food allows you to really freestyle/improvise. For example, one of the dishes that my mom makes is Udon. Even though Udon is a Japanese type of noodle dish, you can cook it on the pan and mix it with pork and vegetables, and it is so enjoyable!

Taiwanese food is very unique compared toEuropean food. You need a lot of effort to make it, and learn about it. For instance, egg-fried rice can be extremely easy to make, but if you want someone to taste it and immediately love it, you need wok hay to make the flavor scrumptious when you are chewing the rice. The wok hay gives the rice a special flavor as if it’s cooked right under charcoal with a big fire underneath it. I consider the Wok as one of the wonders of Asian culture! It is so special and when you use it to cook anything, you can sense the heat and unique smells. The garnish adds even more flavors and makes it even better. But, you also need the correct garnishing. Egg-fried rice garnished with green onions is a classic, and adding cabbage with it is nice, but you don’t want a salad-like vegetable to go with your rice! The tiny details make Taiwanese food extremely difficult, but if you trust the process, it is all worth it in the end. However, egg-fried rice is just square one. Taiwanese food also includes soups with strong flavors or soups that can actually help your health!

One soup that’s healthy and delicious is ginger soup. Usually, my mother adds cooked chicken to make the soup less boring. My mother also adds rice to make it more child-friendly. The real stuff about it is the special cooking wine. And a pinch of garlic. That makes the whole house smell like heaven. When I taste the soup, first I detect the rice. The rice has no flavor on it’s own, but since it’s been in the soup for some time, it tastes like the soup. Its texture is sort of al dente and the chicken is no different. When I eat the chicken, it has the flavor of the soup and tastes wonderful. The garlic is so soft that you can eat it without thinking it tastes weird. You won’t even notice you’ve eaten garlic. Underneath the base of the soup, I taste the ginger combined with the cooking wine, but it isn’t overpowering. Soy sauce is added as well. The rice, chicken, and the stock together make a wonderful homey ginger soup. The best thing is that each quantity is about equal, so you won’t have to waste anything. Once it’s on the table, we finish it all and stay full for a long time.

Taiwanese food is important to me because I feel it brings culture and tradition. For example, dumplings, a very common and well-liked dish, are shaped so that they look like bars of gold; so when Chinese New Year comes along, people make or buy dumplings to eat in hopes of getting more money in the new year! The dumplings are a symbol of wealth.

Zong Zhe, another very popular Asian food, also has a long history behind it. Once, a man named Chu Yuan was hired as an advisor of the King. After a long time, he became an extremely wise advisor and everyone saw him as a good person. But then, one day when Chu Yuan was giving the king advice, the King disagreed with him. This made Chu Yuan so sad that he thought he was unfit to serve. So, he drowned himself in a lake. Everyone felt sad that such a good person would die, so they wrapped up the rice in leaves to prevent all the fish and shrimp from eating up Chu Yuan’s body. This rice wrapped in leaves soon became known as Zong Zhe. Nowadays, people eat Zong Zhe at the Dragon Festival. I feel like this is an important and somewhat heartwarming story. It’s pretty entertaining to see others’ reactions to the story of Zong Zhe.

When my grandpa was young, his family didn’t have much money. He didn’t have shoes to wear, no toys to play with, and they rarely had meat on the table. But when Chinese New Year came along, his family mixed flour and water together to make a certain type of dough and pinched it into shapes of butterflies and flowers. The point is, just because my grandpa’s family was poor, his mom still did her best to keep the tradition going on, and also wanted the kids to have _=>_p.17Taiwanese Food continued from p. 16

fun moments in their childhood. So when he was in the hospital, he remembered all of these fun moments and savored them.

Taiwanese culture and food are very important to me. I know many of these stories by heart; they were told to me by my family. I hope that one day I will be able to cook our traditional food and share our culture and history with the next generation. My family keeps the Taiwanese traditions going.

By Camille Chen, age 10, Asian American, California. This was selected as a Noteworthy Entry in our 2021 Youth Honor Awards program.

Early Bilingual Education

Taking it One Baby Step at a Time: Why We Need Early Bilingual Education

By Michelle Lo, 17, New York.

If you’re like any typical American high school student, this is how your language-learning journey will go: you spend three years blazing through vocabulary and learning all of the tenses, grammar, and tones of the language, only to forget everything that you’ve learned by the time you’ve graduated (except for maybe how to ask to use the bathroom or where the library is).

Meanwhile, with the rise of globalization over the last century, bilingualism and multilingualism have become some of the most important skills to have as an individual. Some of the many benefits to bilingualism include a communication advantage in the world’s competitive job market, the ability to communicate and connect with people from a variety of social settings, and a wider global perspective. So, if being bilingual or multilingual is that important, how might we improve the way we teach language such that our students can actually become fluent in them?

The solution, as simple as it may be, is to have our students start early.

One of the clearest benefits to learning a new language early is that the younger you are, the easier it is to pick up the language. In a linguistic study done by a research team from Boston-based universities, researchers aimed to pinpoint the age at which our ability to learn a new language disappears through a short online grammar quiz. Individuals were asked about their age, language proficiency, and time studying English. The study concluded that children up to the age of 18 are proficient at learning a new language, while children up to the age of 10 can achieve the level of grammatical fluency of a native speaker. There are many reasons why children generally have an easier time learning a new language. Younger children are less fearful of making mistakes than adults and teenagers, a hurdle that one must overcome in learning a new language. Certain brain structures in children also make this process of language learning easier. One study conducted by researchers at UCLA observed rapid growth in the parts of the brain that are responsible for developing language skills between the ages 6 and 13, but a sharp decline in growth after age 13.

Contrary to what some may believe about bilingualism, learning a second language during a person’s most formative years will not affect their ability to speak their primary one nor will it confuse a child. As a matter of fact, numerous scientific studies have concluded that being multilingual can offer numerous cognitive and intellectual benefits for children. A 2004 study by psychologists Ellen Bialystok and Michelle Martin-Rhee found that the brains of bilingual children had better executive functioning than those of their monolingual peers. This meant that bilingual children were better at planning, solving problems, etc., which stemmed from their ability to switch from one language to the other. Various studies have also proven that bilingualism can lead to higher intellectual performance and higher creativity.

Yet, despite the overwhelming evidence supporting early language learning, the U.S. is falling significantly behind other countries in foreign language learning. As the American Councils for International Education reported in 2017, out of all 50 states and the District of Columbia, only 20% of K-12 students are enrolled in foreign language classes, compared to the European median average of 92% thanks to the national-level mandates for foreign language education. In addition, many European students begin to take foreign language classes from the ages 6 to 9, whereas most American students begin in their high school years. Unlike many European nations, many states lack requirements regarding foreign language education or the age at which students should start in place, causing more lag for American students.

In order to make up for this lag, we need to start taking steps in emphasizing foreign language education, beginning in early childhood. That could mean implementing a more standardized system in the state where all students can begin to get some exposure to foreign languages from kindergarten. We could also expand dual language programs, one of the many great ways early childhood foreign language education can tap into a child’s language learning potential. Although dual language programs vary in form, most are designed to teach students in two languages in order to foster bilingualism and biliteracy. Usually, one half of the instructional day is taught in a foreign language and the other half in English. Many of these dual language classes are immersive. For example, children are encouraged to learn through play, song, and social interactions with their peers, which, over time, can help to foster their interests in learning the language and culture. These programs are great for English-learners and native English-speakers alike. For English-learning students, a bilingual classroom allows them to build friendships with their native English-speaking peers, a relationship that would not have been possible if it wasn’t for their mutual understanding of each other’s languages. For native English speakers, sharing the classroom with non-native speakers and immigrant students will help normalize the diversity in languages and cultures in the classroom.

If we expect our coming generations to build a future that is diverse and multicultural, we need to first construct the foundation: an improved and earlier foreign language education system for all students. Students, teachers, administrators, families, and change-makers of any form can all contribute to this cause by recognizing this need and advocating for better early bilingual education, whether that be writing to your local representatives or spreading awareness within your community. That way, we’ll just be one baby step closer to a truly globalized future.

—Michelle Lo, 16, New York. She adds: “I’m an American-born-Chinese, or ABC, that has always been interested in language and culture. Growing up, I spoke only Chinese as a young child but after rigorously studying only English during my childhood years, I lost my ability to speak Chinese. This is something that I deeply regret as I felt that it created a barrier between me and my culture. As a result, I hope to spread awareness about the importance of bilingualism in our multicultural society to prevent cases like mine from happening.”

Sources:

American Councils for International Education, 2017, The National K-12 Foreign Language Enrollment Survey Report, www.americancouncils.org/sites/default/files/FLE-report-June17.pdf.

“Benefits of Learning a Second Language at an Early Age: Ertheo Education & Sport.” Benefits of Learning a Second Language as a Child | Ertheo Education & Sport, 10 June 2020, www.ertheo.com/blog/en/learning-a-second-language/.

Bhattacharjee, Yudhijit. “Why Bilinguals Are Smarter.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 17 Mar. 2012, www.nytimes.com/2012/03/18/opinion/sunday/the-benefits-of-bilingualism.html.

Devlin, Kat. “Most European Students Are Learning a Foreign Language in School While Americans Lag.” Pew Research Center, Pew Research Center, 6 Aug. 2018, www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2018/08/06/most-european-students-are-learning-a-foreign-language-in-school-while-americans-lag/.

Smith, Dana G. “At What Age Does Our Ability to Learn a New Language Like a Native Speaker Disappear?” Scientific American, Scientific American, 4 May 2018, www.scientificamerican.com/article/at-what-age-does-our-ability-to-learn-a-new-language-like-a-native-speaker-disappear/.

Talukder, Gargi, et al. “Brain Development Study May Provide Some Help for Educators.” Brain Connection, 9 Dec. 2016, brainconnection.brainhq.com/2000/09/20/brain-development-study-may-provide-some-hel

Umama, Khujista. Personal Interview. 18 Dec. 2020.

Zhang, Jingyu. Personal Interview. 16 Dec. 2020.

When my Grandfather Holds my Grandmother

 When my grandfather holds my grandmother,
 Saigon still smolders on the ashes of April.
  
 When my grandfather holds my grandmother,
 he lowers his head, the way the hunted have always
 bent over their own reflection to drink.
  
 When my grandfather holds my grandmother,
 his schoolboy arms trace etymologies over her waist,
 how the Vietnamese word for “remember” and “miss” are the same
 while his nose relearns a scent, he relearns a year—
 as if to walk through the kitchen window you’d still see
 paper milk-flowers bursting into flames while
 the stars gape like the sky’s bullet wounds;
 and where my grandfather holds her,
 smoke soldiers, also, dig ghost claws in her wrist,
 chanting bạn có nhớ tôi không?
  
 My grandfather holds my grandmother 
 in a history never ended, as if somewhere 
 between his hands, the city smolders on.

By Samantha Liu, 16, New Jersey. She adds: “As for myself, I am a fifteen year-old aspiring writer in New Jersey. I’ve been trying so hard to relearn and revisit my Asian heritage recently – part Mandarin Chinese, part Vietnamese. My grandparents from both sides are children of war, of Mao, of Tet. The bloodshed of the twentieth century, much of it perpetuated by America itself, is etched in my family history. Much of it is cruel. Much of it is turbulent. Much of it inspires bouts of PTSD while I, nine and unknowing, huddle in a corner. But some of it, as I tried to write in “When my grandfather holds my grandmother,” is light. It is how my grandfather and grandmother fell in love, in the ardent and all-consuming way of people who might not see another day. To me, this is the legacy of Vietnam—not politicking, not ideology, but humanity. I have inherited a war, and I will continue to unravel it.”