Summer vacation
It was time for their class to finish the course. The young students were asked to bring a snack to share with their classmates, so that day the six- and seven-year olds stormed in the classroom in their usual fashion; some boys ran in causing an uproar, others walked in the door politely, all carrying supermarket bags filled with goodies. Among the bounty in their possession were candies, biscuits, oddly colored drink cups and seasoned, dried seaweed. My teaching partner had made a mango cheesecake. All these flavors combined to mark the celebration of the end of forty hard weeks of language study.
Most of the kids had been my students now for over two years. I had watched Charles grow into a round, awkward boy, though he hadn't yet gotten over his drooling. Sissi and Andy had achieved sharp results, and their wits had sharpened. She still laughed loudly and often, while he was always quiet, though he played energetically. Chris had also grown a bigger belly and had been lazier in his study, but now he thought carefully when answering questions and participating in class. And Gigi, who was very tiny and shy when she started, now wore big girl dresses and lit up with confidence. She had started to call me babi sometime this year, and hugged me and kissed me all the time.
While we played games, warming up for an achievement show, I watched them all with tenderness, and remembered everything I had taught them, all our moments of achievement and all those difficult moments of naughtiness and frustration; the great lessons we learned had often come along a fragile balance of play and attention that was easily broken.
After the achievement show, we set up a table and placed the snacks for everyone to share. Everyone got some cheesecake and they each offered snacks to one another. Parents talked among themselves, while the children ate and commented on this candy and that red juice cup. I walked distractedly around the room, chatted a little with Charles, cleaned up a mess here, asked Sissi if she wanted to share her sweet milk drinks with everyone, but mostly I sat back and allowed them to enjoy.
Gigi stood up and picked a candy from the table. She walked to me and handed me the little packet. It was golden and shiny, with a picture printed on it. A picture of a fruit, my least favorite fruit to be honest: durian. Eating durian was like putting a marshmallow made of wax in your mouth while sitting inside a dead carcass; I tried it a few times, but the pungent smell and texture didn't work for me. Gigi smiled and pushed the golden packet onto my hand with her small fingers.
"What's this?" I asked her playing the part of a foolish teacher. "A candy for me? What kind of candy?" I pointed at the picture of the fruit and said the name in Chinese.
"Yes," she answered. I grimaced.
"Oh, but I don't like durian..." Although she heard me, and she understood me, she continued to press the packet towards me and wouldn't allow me to give it back. I tried to reason with her. "Gigi! Do you know this fruit?"
"Mmm!" she nodded wearing that grin of hers.
"It's so smelly!" I fanned my hand in front of my face and scrunched up my nose, turning my face away.
"Yes!" She knew, and yet, still wanted me to try it! Her smile remained on her cute little face, to entice me. I watched amused as she demonstrated pinching her nose and chewing an imaginary durian candy. "Like this!" she exclaimed.
"Really? Should I try?" She nodded sweetly, stood close to me, almost hugging me, her eyes wide and lovely looking up at me, and cupped her hand in mine, urging me to try.
The candy was soft and creamy. It was still pungent, even with my nose pinched. Gigi still smiled at me and mused short hums in question, as if seeking confirmation of my undoubted enjoyment. The other kids laughed at their silly teacher, holding his nose to eat candy. After a moment the strong smell disappeared and a sweet aroma took over. I unclasped my nose, enjoyed the rare and sweet treat, and thanked Gigi for her gift.
