One of the Few

In a city of about 4.5 million, I know what it is like to be the minority.  In our suburb (the smallest), there are a total of 250,000 people, and after living here for more than 6 months, I have randomly seen 3 other white people (other than my family of course).  Other than that, it just a sea of "black hair."

It is impossible for local people to know what it is like to be us.  When I sit in the restaurant and feel the stares of the cook, the waitress, and most of the customers, they don't get that picture that I do of all of their eyes looking at me.  They are caught up in the moment.  I am told over and over again that it is because our kids are so cute or that we are so interesting, but that doesn't make it less "irritating."

When I go in the store and get extra attention--workers following me around or asking questions, I feel different.  I feel like a foreigner.  I have lived here for more than 7 years, but I still don't feel like I belong.  Because I look different, I am automatically treated different.

When I get in a taxi and the driver wants to leave off the meter and offer me a "deal," I can't help but think it might be because I look different.  When I meet someone and they want to become friends, I can't help but wonder if it is because they see me as a way to raise their kids' English scores.  When I am walking down the street and people yell out at me, "Hello!!!," and then they turn to laugh with their friends, I can't help but feel like the butt of their joke.  When I get on the bus and the little kids point at me and tell their Grandma that a "foreigner" just got on the bus, I can't help but feel like cheap entertainment for the ride.  Or when I hear "they have THREE kids!!"...or when I hear "they are so white!!!"....

To be real, most of the attention that I get is good attention--ok, maybe annoying at times, but for the most part it is positive attention.

 But over the years it has made me think of what it would be like to be the minority in America.  The difference is there is a lot more baggage attached in the states.  If I went through what I went through now but with a knowledge that my family before me had been slaves in this country, it would change my perspective immensely. 
 
My thought is simple.  I just want to say that it is impossible for us to fully know what it is like to be Black/Hispanic/Asian or another race in America.  We only see their life for just a moment.  We only know how we personally treat them.  We don't know how they are truly treated because we can only see through our eyes--not theirs.

I'm not trying to go political nor am I referencing any of the recent racial news stories, I just wanted to share my thought for the day.

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Happy New Year!  (an update on us these past couple of weeks)

OK....yeah, I know New Year was a while ago, but we just finished celebrating Chinese New Year!  School started back this week, and our classes at the English Training Center start tomorrow.

Cara's Classroom (Kindergarten-2nd Grade)

Joel's Classroom (3rd and 4th Grade)

Joel and the kids took a trip to Thailand for a homeschool meet-up, and they all came back with a tan.  Stephen and I stayed home and did some more painting.  Tonight we should finish up with all of the last minute decor and clean-up.  Here are a few pictures of the finished project (well, almost finished).

The Airport Waiting Room (still not finished decorating--in the same room as the big plane)

This is inside the Airport Waiting Room.

The past week we have successfully passed the stomach bug to everyone under our roof, and thankfully we have all recovered.  :-)   Hoping to post some pictures of warmer weather soon.