Fish Sauce

The Loyola Marymount University Rose Parade Float

2012-01-14T17:47:00.000-08:00

By Anhthao Bui

To celebrate their 100th anniversary, Loyola Marymount University joined the 123rd annual Rose Parade in Pasadena. The LMU Float was the tenth display out of nearly fifty floats from all over California. The magnificent LMU Float is the pride of the University. It expresses LMU’s educational philosophies, and represents the harmony of volunteerism, hard work, teamwork, and imagination that is represented by the theme of the Parade, Just Imagine.

On the top, the stout lion (Iggy, LMU’s mascot) symbolizes both physical and intellectual power, and simultaneously challenges and catches the audience’s eyes with the message, “I am the King of all the animals. I am wise and strong. Please climb up to the mountain and join my kingdom; share with me my knowledge and might to reign over the world.” To reach Iggy’s Kingdom, students should start on the ground and slowly take baby steps, crawling to the top, overcoming challenges to accumulate knowledge, patience, consistence, and tolerance. Surrounding Iggy are the elements of nature, with flowers, trees, grasses, and plants that show the University’s geography and landscape. Behind the majestic Lion is the tower of LMU’s Sacred Heart Chapel, with its mission to educate, support, and provide students with a system of ethical conduct that is the backbone of human values and the spirit of the Catholic University’s vocational goal: to help young people fully develop their positive potentials.

The University raised three hundred thousand dollars for the float, including almost one month of preparation with two volunteer shifts every day from 8:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m. (up to fifty volunteers for each shift). Many anonymous contributors contributed money and time to construct and decorate the float. The volunteers enjoyed the opportunity to join a social networking meeting of the past, present, and future. Former and current LMU alumni brought their families, friends, and children to the volunteer event in Pasadena, California. They excitedly met and chatted with their old friends, recalled the University’s memories, and made friends with new members of the LMU community. The float was covered with flowers and other natural materials, such as seeds, roots, plants, petals, stems, and barks. Each team member was a part of the whole process. They relied on one another’s work. Many young adults and teenagers quietly cut leaves and stems into pieces. Young college students joined middle-aged and elderly people to carefully glue natural materials to the float. I joined my fiancé and our friend to glue orange lentils to the center of a yellow flower.

It is ironic that I was chosen to decorate a yellow flower for the float, because Yellow Flower is the title of my first book of poetry. I chose round, big, and tiny orange lentil beans to fill up the flower’s core by following a circular pattern. To me, each bean represents an English word that I have learned. I learned English grammar by using the mnemonic device GUM (Grammar, Usage, and Mechanics) to organize each word’s syntax into its correct order, just like I organized the tiny beans to make the float’s flower beautiful. During my break from decorating, I secretly climbed the float. I carefully climbed up to the top of the rotunda. I tenderly caressed the lion and proudly murmured to him, “Finally I enter your enlightened kingdom and touch the wisdom of Mount Olympus.” I made a respectful bow to the lion’s weighty wisdom. In reality, I have not yet achieved the pinnacle of knowledge, although I try and try to climb to the top many times. American life is extremely tough for new immigrants. However, I believe in fate and free will. I will truly touch the lion’s summit of enlightenment sooner or later.

I brought my memories of decorating Loyola Marymount University’s float back with me to San Jose. I am excited to check the LMU Facebook page to see photos of the float in progress, in the hope to become an active member of the Loyola Marymount University alumni community someday.

San Jose, California
January 14, 2012

Four Months

2011-12-31T23:09:00.000-08:00

Love Flower

2011-12-31T23:06:00.000-08:00

Haiku104

2011-11-12T10:07:00.000-08:00

Haiku103

2011-11-12T10:06:00.002-08:00

True Story

2011-11-12T10:06:00.001-08:00

We sat on the green grass, the kid told me, “I am shy to tell you that I love you.”
The kid hugged me. I smiled and murmured, “I love you too.”
I saw rainbow in the eyes of the kid. I sang softly, “Life is so beautiful! An innocent voice makes the world change.”

Parallels

2011-11-12T10:04:00.000-08:00

He said, “We are two parallels.”
She continued, “Parallels never meet each other.”
He disagreed, “They will meet at the Omega—Paradise.”
She screamed, “Paradise is boring. I prefer to live in the Hell where I can make love with my priest, whom I love.”
He shrugged, “You torture yourself with the wrong love.”

Anhthao Bui

Fish Sauce

2010-11-24T18:55:00.000-08:00

Our Hero

2010-11-12T18:53:00.000-08:00

Our Hero By Anhthao Bui

Last night, Dan said to me, “Honey, tomorrow we will meet our hero: the greatest man in the world.”
My eyes were wide open to ask him, “Really? Who? Where? And when?”
Dan laughed, “Ms. Bui, I’m not your student! Why so serious?”
I embarrassedly told him, “I'm not talking to you with my teacher’s voice.”
Dan laughed loudly and recited as he sung, “Ms. Bui, who, what, where, when, and why are teacher’s words to teach writing.”
I understood and hit him, “Oh, I am sorry. Mr. Lambert, you’re a bad boy. You tease Ms. Bui.”
I went back to the question, “Dan, aren't we going to Disneyland tomorrow? Don’t tell me that our plan is changing.”
Dan embraced me, “No, Baby. Wait and see tomorrow.”
With a sleepy voice, I agreed with him, “Okay!”

At Disneyland, the "Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln" show is located in a huge building located in Main Street near the entrance to Disneyland. A big sign on top of the building reads: “Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.” When we enter the theatre, our eyes hit the capital Dome model that is in the central hall. Abraham Lincoln's portrait is on the wall facing the entrance. A black bust of Lincoln is in the left corner. Photos of Lincoln surround us. Two men in nineteenth-century attire, wearing bow ties, coats and tails, warmly welcome us and direct us to the show in the adjoining theater.
We walk in and find our seats. As we sit down, the doors are closed, and an announcer welcomes us. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we welcome you to Great Moments With Mister Lincoln.” A beautiful, scarlet curtain is slowly raised, and the United States’ significant landscapes and symbols are projected onto a screen, accompanied by the song, “America the Beautiful.” I sing along with the song: “America! America! God mend thine ev'ry flaw / Confirm thy soul in self-control / Thy liberty in law.” My hot, patriotic blood makes my face turn red. This is the United States which I love! I believe that the dark clouds of the recession facing our country will end soon. We Americans will mend every flaw through each individual American’s ability, because the universal echo of the Liberty Bell rumbles around the world.

The announcer introduces Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth President of the United States. A painting of Lincoln fills the screen. He sits at a table in dim light, writing his autobiography. Lincoln shares with me his childhood and his youth, saying: “I was born in Kentucky in a log cabin. At a very young age, an axe was put into my hands and I began to use this most useful instrument.” Lincoln recalls his hard work, his love of books, his self-education, and the many times he overcame hardships to succeed.

I sit up straight, my eyes directly looking at the scene without blinking. My eyes are wet; I am in the nineteenth century in Kentucky; in the log cabin. I have traveled back in time to meet Abraham Lincoln. Dan warmly holds my hands. The screen shifts to the Civil War and battlefield illustrations accompanied by the song “Two Brothers.” This is the story of two brothers fighting on both sides of the Civil War: the North and the South. The curtain closes to the sound of Abraham Lincoln’s inauguration speech.
The voice of announcer Paul Frees bellows from the speakers. “We pay tribute here not to the man who lived a century ago, but to the individual who lives today in the hearts of all freedom people.” Oh, yeah! So that is why I adore Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln is not only in the heart of the original Americans, but he is the hero of African Americans, Asian Americans, Hispanic Americans, and others who come to the United States to share the radiance of the Torch of Liberty.
The curtain opens, and Abraham Lincoln sits on a big, overstuffed red chair in the dim light. The background is red. He gradually stands up. His hand holds a piece of white paper. His eyes survey the crowd and land on me. I dare not breathe because I am afraid my breath is going to pollute the immaculate atmosphere. Finally, I am meeting Abraham Lincoln in person. My blood is frozen; my heart stands still. I rub my eyes. Am I sleeping and in a dream or am I awake? Lincoln finishes his address; the address in which he reminds us that if our country fails, it will be because it has rotted from within. No foreign power can destroy America without the cooperation and culpability of the American people.
As Lincoln sits down, the background changes to blue behind him. The tiny stars twinkle and the dawn breaks over the sky. The curtain closes.
My hand is still in Dan’s hand. I am petrified. I murmur, “Dan, I have met Abraham Lincoln, our great hero. How honored I am.”
Dan nods, “I know, Baby. I told you last night.”
I apologize to him, “Sorry for getting mad at you last night.”
I share my thoughts with Dan, “Abraham Lincoln looks real. If I did not know he lived in the nineteenth century, I would have thought that robot is Abraham Lincoln.”
Dan laughs, “My mom also thought that was Abraham Lincoln. When my dad took my mom on their first date, he took her to "Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln" and told her the robot was a real person. First, she believed him, and then she remembered that Abraham Lincoln was dead, but she thought maybe the robot was an actor playing Lincoln. The show first opened in 1965, and it closed for several years before reopening last December.”
I jump up and down, “I am lucky to see Abraham Lincoln this time! If I came to Disneyland before, I could not. This is fate.”
Dan winks, “Especially because you went to the show with a special man.”
I lower my voice, “The performance was so amazing. I admire Walt Disney for designing this tribute to Abraham Lincoln. My heart raced when I saw Abraham Lincoln, heard his voice, and lived with the Civil War in the nineteenth century. Lincoln’s speech is liberal. He focuses on the idea of liberty and often repeats the word "freedom." The last words of the speech are about all religions, different languages, and people with different lifestyles, such as domestic partners, coming together to make the United States great. I like this image. When Lincoln started talking, the background was a nighttime scene with stars that represent the stars of our flag. The night represents the hideous Civil War. When Lincoln finished his speech, daybreak appeared which symbolizes Lincoln leading the United States out of the darkness.”
Dan kisses me, “Honey, I can tell how you felt by looking at your face and your eyes during the show.”
I bury my face in his chest, “Thank you for bringing me to the show.”
Dan embraces me in his strong arms, “Darling, thank you for coming to the United States. Thank you for loving the United States and me. Your understanding of history and your love of the United States are huge.”
Dan continues, “The two brothers in the song represent the two sides in the civil War: the North and the South. The Civil War was similar to the Vietnam War. North Vietnam fought against South Vietnam.”
I look at Dan with admiration, “Dan, you are my dream man. I also compare the Civil War and the Vietnam War. We have many things in common, and even our thoughts are similar. I also admire your large knowledge of everything.”
Dan covers me with kisses. We kiss each other in front of Abraham Lincoln’s portrait. Abraham Lincoln gives us his blessing. We share our happiness with President Lincoln.

Condoling Poetry

2010-10-30T07:23:00.001-07:00

A respectful star falls down
His relatives gather to mourn
Their love one rests in the ground

Divine folks give him a crown
They throw flowers and cry out
“A heroic king is found.”
(My condolences to Mr. Nguyen Hien’s family)

Rogers Elementary School

2010-09-02T17:13:00.001-07:00

Virtue

2010-08-19T15:29:00.000-07:00

Virtue

2010-08-18T18:52:00.001-07:00

Haikus XII

2010-08-13T20:35:00.001-07:00

South San Francisco

2010-08-13T20:30:00.000-07:00

South San Francisco

2010-08-13T20:25:00.001-07:00

Haiku 93

2010-07-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

As Mighty As

2010-07-16T21:43:00.000-07:00

As Mighty As

As mighty as the Rocky Mountain
As calm as the Gold Rush
As smart as the Bear Flag
As sunshine as the Golden Poppies

He is a friend of domestic partners
He respects free choice
To support same- sex marriage,
And abortion rights

He is grieving with hard teaching labor
Favoring raising salaries for teachers,
Avoiding cutting to education
Limiting administrative bureaucracy

He gives his shoulder to undertake California’s mess
To determine running the U.S. Senate
To fix the loophole budgets
To give back the California prosperity and wealth

He is unshaken under the tsunami of opponents’ assaults:
Too liberal, inhuman, and controversial to the marriage’s law
He conceives the political enlightenment is a must
To catch up with high technology,
Social and cultural revolution in the twenty first century

Haiku 92

2010-07-16T21:38:00.001-07:00

Haikus ix

2009-09-27T14:45:00.000-07:00

Haikus I

2009-09-15T19:33:00.000-07:00

The English Language Barrier

2009-08-27T15:19:00.000-07:00

“A minority bachelor is worth less than a native-English speaker who graduated from high school." Anhthao Bui

The English language barrier
Burns my confidence
Into inferior ash
Brutally pushes my pride
Into the underneath hell

Farewell

2009-08-25T18:14:00.000-07:00

I lay on the cool marble floor of the empty house; my heart was empty too. I did not want to leave my house and Vietnam at all. I wanted to mourn loudly like Mimi, my cat, or showed my emotion like Mimi’s act, but I could not. I scrolled my body around the family room to the bedrooms. I kissed the walls and used the fingernails to write big notes, “This is Bui family’s house forever. Those who live in this house will get bad luck.” On another wall, I wrote, “There is a dead body—gosh, in this house.” I drew a young girl face with long hair and big tongue to the chin. I laughed loudly because I revenged the people who would live in my house by the curse when I left. I tiptoed to the bathroom, turned on the fountain and left it. I turned on all of the lights. I wanted to waste electricity and water to revenge the government to take my house. I crawled like a baby to the kitchen. I looked at the empty stoves and felt hungry. I came to Miss Sương’s kitchen to beg for a hot rice bowl with fish sauce. Since my mother left, Ms. Sương cooked for me. I ran fast to Miss Sương’s house, flashed into her kitchen, and cried, “Miss Sương, I am hungry!”
Miss Sương was surprised, “I thought you already ate at your husband’s house. They made your favorite dishes to celebrate you to go to America.”
I flirted her, “They do not have delicious dishes like yours. I only want to eat your food.”
She asked me, “What do you want to eat now? I am not ready yet because today you might eat at your husband’s house or somewhere else.”
“Please give me a hot rice bowl with fish sauce.”
She was astonished, “Fish sauce again?”
I asked her, “Why not?”
She shook her head, “Vy Vy, you are so strange and different. At special holidays and your important events, you only want to eat rice with fish sauce.”
I laughed, “I was born in poverty, so I like fish sauce.”
Miss Sương sobbed, “Vy Vy, you win my heart. I miss you, baby.”
Tears blocked my throat. I mumbled, “Miss Sương, you are my dear sister. I do not know I can get along with my family or not. We are apart for a long time.”
Miss Sương lifted the lid of the clay casserole. Thin, hot, appetizing smoke of rice soaked up. I was mouth-watering. I swallowed my saliva. Miss Sương took rice in a small thick Japanese bowl and handed it to me. I held the bowl and watched it as if I had never seen rice before. Tiny sticky grains of rice like white pearls. Each pearl was a drop sweat of labor. Miss Sương kept the Vietnamese traditional cook style. She cooked rice in a clay casserole on a charcoal stove. She ordered special rice from Long An, a small town, where was located near Saigon. Thus, the rice was tender and sticky like sweet rice. Also, Miss Sương used the special fish sauce that my aunty made with her secret recipe. I absorbed the rice fish sauce flavor into my lungs. I slowly sipped and nibbled small bites because the following day, I would never eat such rice with fish sauce.

I strolled along Thanh Đa Riverside. The tide was low and still: garbage, dead plants, nylon bags, and light recycle lazily flew over the surface. Two skinny children—a boy and a girl with a dark skin jumped from the bamboo raft into the river. They splashed water and laughed loudly like Ti, Ni, and I often swam in hot summers when we were children. I greedily captured all the images and the sounds and stored them in my memory when I passed by: the blocking apartment, the old elementary school, the middle school and the high school, the trees, the bushes, and the market. I murmured, “Oh, Saigon, I lose you from now! My charming Saigon is alive in my heart forever.”

The engine roared and the plane was shaking; my soul screamed and quaked in terror. I was isolated from my motherland from now on. I was numb and senseless.

MOTHER'S DAY

2009-07-19T16:03:00.001-07:00

CONDOLENCES

2009-07-03T14:40:00.000-07:00

CONDOLENCES

You’re hiding your dole
The loss of your love
Of course your face shows
Vigor is above

We all love Don
Though he is gone
He’s a dear stone
In holy joins

THE SAVIOR

2009-05-16T08:18:00.000-07:00

April 30, 2009

2009-05-01T18:16:00.000-07:00

She
tortures
in the sea of tears

In
April
Memory returns

Weird
mood
conquers her spirit

In
April
nightmares occur

At
midnight
Fear sweats over the bed

She
wakes up
lonely in a black atmosphere

Her
spirit
dives in chaotic

In a
strange land
her soul is in Vietnam

In
silence
her mourning erects

Blasts
of snowy gloom
freeze her pale body

In
April
thinking of heroes

who
scarified
for their patriotism

Her
Father
passed away in prison

But
his pride
is living forever

He
castigates
Red evils’ destruction

That
drives
folks scatters over the world

Wives
lose husbands
children lose fathers

She
never
forgets the agony

She
lives, but
she is death inside

EARLY CHILDHOOD DEVELOPMENT

2009-04-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

EARLY CHILDHOOD
DEVELOPMENT
Haikus IX

Early Development
Miraculous human beings
Coaching a fresh work

Diverse temperaments
Emotional sea of words
Decode children world

Her radiant face
Reflexes her pure spirit
Beautiful the world!
(For Ms. Nguyen)

DREAMING

2009-04-14T10:32:00.000-07:00

HAIKUS VIII

2008-11-27T08:59:00.000-08:00

HAIKUS VIII
(Coauthored by Anhthao Bui and Daniel Lambert)

A moony monkey
Sits in a poetry tree
Waiting for her match

Her smile is sunshine
Her warmth comes across the miles
I wait to meet her

Glad educators
In knowledgeable jungles
Sharing aesthetics

MORGAN HILL FESTIVAL

2008-11-27T08:50:00.000-08:00

Flowers

2008-08-11T12:48:00.000-07:00

Haiku 49

2008-08-01T17:42:00.001-07:00

My boss and her horse
Are ready for their journey
Invisible stop

APRIL 30, 1975

2008-08-01T12:15:00.000-07:00

Ti, Ni, and I went to the Thanh Đa Riverside to pickup lục bình to play under many detonations. Lục bình is a kind of water lily with purple flowers, which lived and flowed on rivers. When the tide was down, Lục Bình was stranded in the bushes that grew at the edges of the river; the mixed stinky smell of mud, death fish, and garbage splashed into my lungs, but I loved strong smell that only existed in Vietnamese rivers.
We joyfully played in front of the balcony of my house while my family gathered in the family room to listen to the radio. Suddenly, a horrible explosion smashed into the air. The house was shaken. My face turned pale. I yelled awfully and crawled into my house under a bed like a little rat, “Ối trời ôi! Tôi chết rồi !” “Oh, I am dying! I am dying.”
My family and my friends followed me to the bed. They cried, “Baby. What happened?”
My Sixth brother announced, “Someone threw bomb at Saigon Bridge.”
My oldest sister nodded, “Yep, President Dương Văn Minh surrendered. Perhaps they did not want Việt Cộng to enter to Saigon, so they destroyed the bridge.”
My father called me, “My little girl. Come here with daddy, baby.”
I persisted, “I am dying. I am dying.”
Ni crawled under the bed, tapped my shoulder, and told me, “Bé, calm down, please. You’re fine. You’re still alive. Get out, please. Your parents and siblings are waiting for you.”
I shook my head, “No, I am scared. I already died.”
Ni reassured me, “Don’t say that, Bé. If you die, you cannot talk.”
Ni and Ti’s parents came to my house and asked them to go home. Ni told me, “I have to go home. Don’t be scared Bé. I will see you this afternoon. Bye, Bé.”
I heard their parents complained about Ti and Ni because they were worried about them. I crawled slowly out of the bed. My parents and my siblings looked serious. My mother said, “The end. No more war! Peaceful!”
I asked, “Mom, can we go anywhere and won’t fear Việt Cộng? Will daddy no longer work as an officer, and will he be a teacher?”
My father briefly said, “Yes, baby.”
I was surprised, “Daddy, why are you so sad when our country is peaceful? You should be happy because your dream came true.”
My father did not answer. I tried to figure out what was happening that day. My father often said that when our country was peaceful, he would work as a teacher, write, or research something. He said that he did not like his job because there was a lot of pressure, and he could not spend time for family. However, today he was sad and quiet. Today my family looked serious and strange. I did not understand why.
I followed my siblings to go to the balcony in order to see airplanes flying over the area. From the airplanes, voices repeated over and over that everyone should come to the Thanh Đa Park where airplanes landed in order to evacuate them; we saw waves of people to come to the riverside toward big boats. My father requested us, “From now, you are not allowed to go out. Việt Cộng will come in Saigon soon, but do not call them Cộng sản or Việt cộng.”
My little brother asked, “Father, why? What do we call them?”
Our father was confused. He posed a little bit, and then he said, “Brothers or uncles.”
My sisters curiously asked my father, “Father, what do they look like?”
“Father, do they have tails?”
“Do they kill and eat children?”
“Do they have fur?”
“Do they wear cloths?”
Our father did not answer. He continued, “Maybe there will be no electricity or water next few days. Thus, we should save water and food.”
He watched our sisters carefully and said, “Take out your necklaces and earrings. Cut your nails short. Try to wear simple clothes. Don’t wear short, dress, or skirt.”
My first sister asked, “Father, are Việt cộng so cruel? Do they take out female nails?”
My father yelled, “Don’t say Việt cộng please. You will be engaged to your boyfriend next month, and maybe get married next two months.
My first sister did not agree with him, “Father, you told me that I was still young. We should wait for a couple of years until I get my bachelor. Why do you change your mind? I am not ready to be a wife yet. I want to go abroad after I get my bachelor’s degree.”
My mother reprimanded her, “You should obey your father. He always wants to do good things for you.”
My parents and my siblings watched and searched my house carefully and burned many pictures and clothes that related to the army. More than that, our parents collected pieces of gold and hid them in secret and safe place at night. My mother explained, “Việt cộng is brutal. They do not like rich people. Your grandparents were killed because they were landlords and owned many pieces of land.
I heard the story about our grandparents over and over. My parents told us that communists killed our grandparents because they were landowners and rich. Only my maternal grandfather survived. He was kept in a small and deep hole with water to his neck. Thus, he was afraid of water. I did not like my maternal grandfather because he was dirty. He never bathed or cleaned his body. He wore the same cloth once a week. My parents complained and hit me because I avoided him, and I did not let him touch me. I often hid in a corner when he visited us.

My father looked serious and strange. I secretly followed his action. I did not want him in that mood at all. I wanted to help him, or to say something nice, but I knew that silence was best.
My father stayed late in his office. He took a small Colt in a drawer; he watched it carefully; He held the colt and lightly touched it as if it were a treasure. He held in his hand and put it on the table again and again. He frowned. His pupils were light and only focused on the colt. He bitterly sighed many times. I saw some gray hairs on his forehead. I wanted to pluck them out. He bit his lips hard and that made his chin squarer. His cheeks turned dark, and no longer pink white like his natural skin. His cheeks were sunken. I have never seen he was haggard like that. I wished to read what he was thinking. I could not bear to see my father in that situation. I did not know what happened. He leaned his head on the desk. He shook his head. His shoulders agitated. I silently squirmed under the desk, slightly hugged his leg. He immediately startled, and he took the Colt with a cautious act. His eyes were two blazing red fires toward me, but the fires died out right away when he noticed me. He gently put me on his thighs and sweetly asked me, “My little girl. What are you doing here? Why don’t you go to sleep? It’s late.”
I put my head on his chest and sobbed. He comforted me, “I am sorry. Today I was too busy to forget you. I know this morning you were very scared. It was over. I promise to protect you from now. I do not let anything harm my children.” He embraced, kissed, and took me to sleep in his bed that night.

MY FATHER IS A ROOF OF A HOUSE

2008-08-01T12:07:00.000-07:00

AN UNSENT LETTER

2008-08-01T10:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Tranchina,
I must write to release my painful burden. You do not know that you accidentally put a heavy rock on my heart, which suffocates me. I am like a tailor in a fairy tale: A tailor knew his king to have horse’s ears. The tailor was forced to keep the king secret instead of being dead. The tailor was depressed until he went to a jungle and told the secret to a giant maple tree. Like a tailor, I promised you and Dr. Czech to keep secret about our conference, but I always think that you discriminated against me. More than that, your acts fortuitously perish my pride and my confidence. I am not worthy to live or to talk to my family because I am useless and stupid. My soul is traumatic. I am breathing, but dead inside. I do not want to see or to talk to anyone else at all. I isolate myself from my family and the others who are surrounding me.
I fretted and doubted myself. Comparing your class to other English classes, which I took at SJSU, your class was easy, but I failed it. You were the first mean instructor whom I met. I was so disappointed because you often told us to teach students from our hearts, but you were heartless. I cried while I was driving, eating, and showering. It was a nightmare that haunted while I slept—you pointed at me and shouted, “Your English is not good enough to be a teacher. Give up your path.” I woke up full of guilt because I slandered my professors’ names.
I was proud and deserved my bachelor’s degree in English. My professors gave me vehicles to discover mysterious literature territories and mechanics to write beautiful English poems, interesting stories, and critical literature essays. My professors often said that my second English language was my strength, and poetry was my gift. They encouraged me to keep pursuing my path. I believed in my potential, but you made me doubt myself. I felt mortified because you diminished my English bachelor’s degree, which meant you disqualified my professors.
You pushed me down into the unworthy and guilty sea toward my professors like a bad feeling toward my parents when a Vietnamese called me, “Mất dạy,” “Uneducated,” Vietnamese often say, “Đỗ Mât day” “Uneducated,” to chide young people, who do not behave well. To Vietnamese, the word, “uneducated” is a taunted language, because it insults those who do not seriously teach their children manner. Once, an elderly neighbor of mine yelled at me, “Do mat day,” “Uneducated.” I got mad and told her that she could punish or reprimand me, but she must not blame to my parents. After that, I was always good because I did not want people to criticize my parents’ teaching. Now, I got mad because I made you disgrace my professors’ qualification. I wanted to shout loudly, “Mr. Tranchina, you are wrong and unfair when you alleged that I knew English very little. My professors taught me well. I bet you cannot write beautiful poems and stories as I do.”
I knew you did not like me at the first meeting when students shared with classmates their background and stories. I was shocked when you cut and moved quickly to another student while I was sharing. You never mentioned Vietnam, its people, and culture while you were interested in Roma’s stories. She told us a lot, and you asked her more and more. You often asked Roma about Indian culture and life, but not a word about Vietnam. I was jealous of Roma because India is also an Asian country, but you were only interested in India. In class, you rarely talked to Kathy and I who were Vietnamese students. I seldom raised my hand, but Kathy, who liked to talk in class, did raise her hands, and more than once, I saw you ignored her.
I reread my essay and did not know why it was wrong because you did not tell what I should have written, nor give any feedback. The NU’s instructors seemed lazy to give students’ essays feedback. I wrote the essay regarding my personal experience that related to what I understood about Jefferson’s great quote. I knew that my writing was different from your students’ essays because I was not educated in the United States. Moreover, I was a creative person, so I did not want to write ideas I read on the Internet and books. Therefore, I often wrote and explored my own thought, but still kept on the instructors’ assignments. You did not let students explore their creative writing ability. You only accepted students to write what you wanted. My essay was wrong because you did not provide me clear direction and feedback.
You were not pleased when I was late. It was not my mistake; you should have understood me. You changed our class schedule to 5:00 p.m. instead of 5:30p.m. per the NU’s regular schedule. I had to tutor my students after school, so you knew my effort to come on time, but sometimes I was late because of the traffic.
I was confused and did not know what you meant when you gave me an envelope with my name on it and said nothing. Your act made me confused. I still do not know why you gave me an envelope with no contents.
I was embarrassed when you reprimanded me in front of my friends because I did not let you know the reason for my absences. I was exasperated and speechless. My friends looked at me as if I were a bad student. I did not know where I could hide my face. I wished to become invisible. Why did you treat me like that? You should have kept my face. You could talk to, ask me why, or complain to me in your office. Moreover, seeing my face, you should have understood how seriously sick I was. I tried to go to school while I had the flu because I already missed two classed.
I asked you to turn in my final paper late because I was seriously sick. My family doctor asked if I needed the doctor’s proof, but I thought it was fine. You not only denied my request, but also said that if I did not turn it on time, I would fail. I tried to finish my final examination and knew that it was not good. I emailed you. You knew that, but you used my paper as a proof that I was not able to pursue the teaching credential program and asked Ms. Maria, the advisor, to drop me without discussing it with me.
Mr. Tranchina, I do not know why you were so strict. I think you were prejudice, and doubted my English ability. You are also an American minority. You should help a second English student learn to succeed. I did not want you to treat me different. Never. However, I expected you to be fair.
While writing this letter, my heart is tattered and bleeding because your claws are clinging to my emotion. My teardrops are a current of blood from the heart flowing down.

MATHSON LEE

2008-08-01T10:11:00.000-07:00

Marvelous faces
Ambitious desires
Thoughtful hearts
Honorable wishes
Successful goals
Obedient attitudes
Noble behaviors
Welcome me

I want to embrace
Lovely, Eager, Exquisite jaguars

FLIP-FLOP

2008-07-29T10:54:00.000-07:00

Failures
Transform
An ugly duck
Into
An exquisite
Artist

KNOWLEDGE by Anhthao Bui

2008-07-26T12:52:00.000-07:00

I can lose everything, but I never lose the passion of reading and writing, which are parts of learning process. Reading is input and writing is output. I am always greedy of knowledge and often seeking the food of knowledge. After eating knowledge, I might digest and make it useful. Knowledge brings me a secure job, so I do not need to worry about my finance. Knowledge helps me understand people and the world surrounding me. Knowledge makes me become a humble person and a better citizen. In other words, knowledge teaches me dignity, loyalty, and independence. Knowledge opens my eyes toward the New World, where I truly live in peace and happiness because in the world of knowledge, there is no vice.

I admire my professors’ knowledge and wish to absorb their knowledge and to become wise. I believe that my professors understand me as well although I am a minority. I think they know me better than my family and my people. In the knowledge land, there is no boundary of race or ethnicity. In knowledge, we have a common voice of seeking wisdom. My professors, the predecessors, identify the fever of seeking knowledge and are willing to guide those who look for knowledge. Since knowledge is a long- term process, to taste the honey of knowledge, the knowledge seekers need to equip themselves with discipline, perseverance, and resilience to pursue an unfinished journey, and they may overcome the ocean of hardships.

I do not know if I have enough energy and patience to hunt knowledge or not? I am almost forty; my brain and mind are relaxed, so it is difficult to receive new information. Moreover, my physical body is too fragile to bear the life’s disaster. To Vietnamese people, a woman in her of forties is too old to pursue education, and she should give up school in order to take care of her family. My friends and relatives often questioned me that I study for what? They advised me to give up my educational path to enjoy life because I was no longer young to compete with younger learners. More than ten years living in the United States, I have spent most of my time in school and only received failure and losses. I was exhausted and upset because my effort and endeavor were huge, but I got a little result. However, the torch of searching knowledge always flames in my heart.

The United States is the paradise of opportunity and education. The United States provides free education for everyone, no matter who he or she is. So that was why in the reeducation- camp, my father kept improving English whenever he had a chance in the hope that he would go to the United States to continue his education. Moreover, under the communist control, my creative writing was blocked. I experienced the prevention of learning, so I treasured the United States’ equal education. I grasp knowledge as a blessing, which the United States and its people give me.

Knowledge is huge and diverse. I need to determine my purpose in order not to get lost in the knowledge labyrinth. I like history and favor politics. I think I will enter the law field to be a judge or to run politics, but I know my nature is an artist, and I cannot be a good politician. I do not want to harm anyone else, and I cannot stand another criticism because I am vulnerable. I determine to follow my heart: keep walking on the English Literature Path, which leads me to mysterious and excited dimensions and satisfies my curious mind.
February 23, 2007

Fish Sauce by Anhthao Bui

2008-07-18T10:11:00.000-07:00

Fish sauce is my spirit. Without fish sauce, I cannot survive.