A few years ago, I was a principal of an American high school in Hong Kong. It was a school where the wealthy in Hong Kong sent their kids for an American education taught all in English with hopes that their young people would get into an American, British or Canadian university.
Leading the charge of Americanization was our slightly off-balance school counselor. Let’s call her “Betty” for the sake of this column and the sake of the protection of her identity.
Betty had been in Hong Kong for eight years and counselor at the school for seven years. Her husband was an executive for a major consumer products company in the United States and was responsible for the Asian market.
We flew an American flag above the school, and I frequently had to remind the custodial staff which way was up. While the U.S. flag code does permit flying the flag with the union down, it specifies only “... as a signal of dire distress in instances of extreme danger to life or property,” or if Betty was at odds with the owners of the school.
We also spoke English only on the campus, and students were given demerits for speaking their native tongues — be it Mandarin, Cantonese, Vietnamese, Hindi, Korean, Japanese and so on.
To say that Betty did not adjust to the culture would be an understatement, as anything the native Chinese did in any situation irritated her to the point of lunacy. Betty was at constant odds with the school administration and the owners — who were Chinese.
Betty took it as her personal crusade to Americanize the school to the fullest extent of the word. She had bake sales and sold hot dogs at lunch time to the high school students to raise money for the junior-senior prom, which she instituted.
This irritated the owners as it cut into their profit at lunch. The owners also tried to manage the prom as they felt there could be a small profit in it for them.
Essentially, there was a clash between Betty and the owners of not only culture, but stubbornness and control. Had I not been in the middle of it, the situation would have been comical. Being a bit off-balance and potentially certifiable, Betty developed an extreme case of paranoia when it came to the owners of the school.
This paranoia reached an apex when one day, after the owners ticked her off, she stormed into my office. Placing her face just inches from my face she shouted, “Is there a secret file on me? Is there!?”
My reply was in the calmest demeanor I could muster. I simply said, “why Betty, I wouldn’t know, as it would be, you know, secret.”
She stormed out of my office slamming the door and knocking a photo off of my wall.
However, it was the Thanksgiving meal at school that really got to Betty. She believed that turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing, gravy and cranberries would be served. She contracted a caterer and charged a lunch fee, which would go not to the prom fund, but to the school, which further ticked her off.
Each homeroom class would bring a desert dish, and under no circumstances was it to be sushi or any other Asian dish. This was by golly an American school, and an American Thanksgiving it would be.
It was after all of these arrangements were made that Betty told us she was going to leave just before the Thanksgiving meal for a long weekend with her husband.
We were happy for us and sad for him.
Needless to say, the Asian children barely ate any of the turkey and stuffing. They did, however, against Betty’s protests, bring plenty of sushi, rice and other Asian staples and shared with each other.
The only way we got rid of the gravy was having a gravy-chugging contest led by the physical education teacher, which was a real source of celebration.
The point is, we shared our blessings with each other and were thankful to be together, albeit without Betty. We had a lot of turkey left over, along with stuffing and the like, and arranged to have all of it taken to a homeless shelter after the staff took what they wanted.
It matters not what the menu is on Thanksgiving, only that we are with those we love and give thanks for our many blessings.
Happy Thanksgiving!
— Tim McDonald can be reached at timothy.mcdonald@agsfaculty.indwes.edu
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McDONALD: A sushi Thanksgiving
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