She was my Once-in-a-Lifetime

     The day she walked into my classroom all I knew was that I had a woebegone bundle of child who did nothing but cry.  She was from Cambodia, spoke a Chinese dialect familiar to no one, and didn't answer to any of the ways I could conjure to pronounce the name on her card.  If you're a teacher this is called a "challenge."

 I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with her, but watching her sob away I knew that she was definitely in worse shape than I was and I wanted to help.  Three days later she was still crying and wouldn't be comforted by any other six-year-old in class.  I couldn't even fathom how scared she must be.  And her name was a total mystery, for she never reacted when I tried to say it.  Down through the teacher's lunchroom grapevine came word that she had a sister in Room 5.  

So I took her by the hand, marched her into Room 5, found a girl with the same surname and bodily put my nameless student in front of her.  Sister just looked at me, bewildered, wondering what Crazy Lady wanted.  But when the little one started to cry her sister finally said, "Kuy Chou". (Kwee Choo)  Hallelujah!  She had a name.  Of course I hadn't even come close since it was misspelled on the card in the first place`, but Glory! At least I could call her something....begin to bridge the void between us.

     Her real name and three days of familiarity with the school finally brought an end to the tears.  But then I faced another problem.....an emotional stone wall.  No happy, no sad, no tears, no angry, no holding pencil, no work.....just a breathing life form.  I literally stood her in front of me and made silly faces, tickled her, anything to get a reaction.  Nothing.  I became intensely frustrated by her pure lifelessness.  And the passage of time with seemingly no learning going on ruffled every tail feather I owned.

     The first time I saw light in her eyes was around Thanksgiving time.  I'd taught a social studies unit on Native Americans and their introduction of not only corn, but popcorn.  As a culmination I brought a plastic-domed corn popper to school.  There she sat on the floor in front of the cooking table.  There was no anticipation, for she had no idea what was coming.  To her it was just another thing to fill the day before she was allowed to go home.  But when things suddenly started to happen her eyes popped open, watching funny little beads explode inside the dome. 

He hand shot to her mouth as she giggled, and she looked around to see if everyone else was as surprised as she was.  As the noise of the many popping kernels increased she got more animated and started bobbing up and down, ever with that hand over her mouth to hide the private delight of discovering something new. 

Many others in class were just as excited, but I noticed that several gradually noticed Kuy Chou and started poking their friends to look at her.  They'd never seen any reaction from her either.  What a wonderful loss of innocence that day!

     I'm not sure how we came from then to now.  I know there was a step by step sequence over seven months, but it's like looking at your twenty year old and wondering where all the years have gone.

     I watched Kuy Chou today.....that effervescent bubble with the brown bangs and the Kuy Chou-sized shoulder strap purse that goes where she goes.  How can this be the same child?  This little thing that hugs you around the derriere because she can't reach your waist, who looks up at you with that round face and smiles the light of the ages when she says "I love you."  

This little soldier who never walks but marches, the tyrant of the playground who stands with her hands on her hips, stamping her foot, saying, "You cheating!  You out of game!"  When did this transformation take place? 

That little rascal started learning Engllish and math and printing and letter sounds right under my nose, and before I could catch my breath she turned into a butterfly.

     I watch her go off to the school bus, arm in arm with her friends.....a girl from Norway on one side, another from Mexico on the other side.  And in my heart I give thanks that I could be part of her journey.

                                                                   May 13, 1981

                                                    Epilogue

     We didn't stay close but never quite lost touch.  My mom, my faithful classroom volunteer of 20 years, loved her as much as I did.  We took Kuy Chou and her sisters to Disneyland one summer, a real taboo at the time since it crossed the line of teacher distancing that denoted professionalism. 

She came to my retirement 10 years ago and I attended her wedding.  She became a teacher and told my mom it was because of me.  Whether or not that was the truth I chose to believe it because it gave special meaning to my 45 years as a educator.  On her first day as a classroom teacher I sent her a bouquet of flowers.  To me she was my academy award. 

Of course she is no longer the child I fell in love with those many years ago.  She is a grown woman with an Americanized name and a family and a career.  But once upon a time her spirit touched my soul and I will always take joy in the memory of the Kuy Chou I remember.

                                                                   August 15, 2012