Crossing the Ocean

NARRATIVE ESSAY BY: Xiuying He

ARTIST STATEMENT: This essay is the first paper I wrote at City Tech and also the first English essay in my life. With the guidance of my professor and Writing Center tutor, I revised it step by step and completed this essay based on my personal memories of my educational journey.

ABOUT THE POSTER 
"Be a Star Reacher," by Alfonso Torres

This piece, in particular, encourages people to go beyond the sky, the world, and the stars—to become Star Reachers.

---

I grew up by the sea, and my father was a fisherman. When I was young, I followed him out to the sea to help. Growing up in a small coastal town in Fuqing, Fujian, China, where the air always smelled of salt, I used to imagine myself as a small boat wandering across the water.

In my hometown, there was a famous song, “Ai Pin Cai Hui Ying,” which means that to win, you must take risks and work hard. People there believed in hard work, but it is all about making money, not education. This has been passed down from generation to generation. Most people in my hometown thought it was better to go abroad or start a business than to sit in a classroom. My parents were no exception. They began working to earn money at a very young age instead of attending school.

When I found out that I had passed the high school entrance exam, I ran home with excitement.

“Mom, Dad. I got into San Shan high school!” I proudly handed my admission letter to my mother.

My mother glanced at my father. He stared at the TV and didn’t even bother to look up.

“We can’t afford for you to go to high school, you know that. Besides, it’s not worth it to put money in school,” my mother said.

“But Mom, I worked so hard for this. I deserve this chance. This is not fair!”

My father said in a cold tone, “You can go, but don’t expect much living expenses from me.” He turned off the TV and walked past me. My admission letter dropped to the floor.

At the age of 15, with only 50 yuan and all my luggage, I left home to attend high school. It was the first time I left my hometown. I felt like a boat wandering on the sea, loaded with cargo, overwhelmed but with hope.

When I arrived at the school, the gate was rusty. The plaque was broken and even missing two characters. The conditions in the dormitory were poor. Eight people shared one tiny room, filled with four sets of bunk beds. The walls were dirty and paint was falling. “Is this the school I work hard for, and the place I am supposed to spend the next few years?” I thought to myself.

While other students arrived with their parents, chatting and laughing, I stood there entirely alone.

Most of my roommates were locals, and they quickly bonded with each other. They chatted in a local dialect I couldn’t understand. They were acting like they had known each other for a long time.

Soon, things went from bad to worse. My classmates began to exclude me because of my unfashionable clothes. I always wore a loose, old, black shirt and worn-out jeans I got from my elder sister. They did not fit me at all.

My classmates also teased about my strong rural accent. During P.E., I saw them standing in a circle, laughing and talking together. I gathered my courage and walked toward them. But the moment I approached, their conversation stopped.

“Hello. Nimen gang zcai zai shuo shen mo? What are you guys talking about?” I asked politely.

“Oh, mei shen mo. Nothing,” one of them responded coldly.

I knew I was not welcome, so I turned and walked away. They started to laugh again. Faintly, I heard someone repeat what I said and imitate my accent.

I became an outsider. I ate alone, studied alone, and walked alone. At night, I cried on my pillow. It felt like the night was drowning me, along with my dream of the future.

I couldn’t sleep at night, so I started sleeping during class. My grades fell quickly.

I sobbed over the phone. My father gave a cold laugh and said, “I told you not to go to school. You wouldn’t listen. Now you’re wasting my money.” My mother took over and said, “Just quit. I will find you a job.”

At that moment, I understood that my parents would never support me. My feeling were just like what Barack Obama described in his book, Dreams from My Father:

“The earth shook under my feet, ready to crack open at any moment. I stopped, trying to steady myself, and knew for the first time that I was utterly alone.”

After a year of trying to hold on, I eventually gave up. It felt like I was being pushed out of the school.

Yet deep down in my heart I know I still wanted to continue my education.

I left my hometown again at the age of 23. I went to the USA. At that time, I took my parents’ advice: Go with the flow. They said, “Just follow the pace like everybody else in town. If they can survive, so can you.” I started “sailing” once again; this time, from one side of the world to the other.

But life wasn’t as easy as I thought. My lack of knowledge and English caused many embarrassing moments. My husband suggested that I enroll in ESL class.

That’s when I realized that I might still have the chance to go back to school.

In my new class, there were people from all over the world. A Mexican mother who had four kids and a job but wanted to improve her English. A 55-year-old plumber who was still in school learning English because he wanted more job opportunities. Another young Chinese woman who had a background like mine. She was struggling in English, but she never stopped trying.

I found so much strength from these people. Perhaps I really could return to school and pick up my studies.

I started studying for the GED in my spare time. After 7 months of hard work, I got my GED.

I am 31 and a mother of a three-year-old daughter. Here I am studying at City Tech. This time I won’t give up. One day, I hope that I can tell my daughter proudly that her mother did give up once, but she kept trying and she finally made it.

This time, I feel like a boat carrying the weight of family responsibility on my shoulders. I know there is still a long way to the shore, but for the first time, I know I am getting closer.