Academic Elitism: The Life of a Chinese-American Student

If I had a dollar for every time someone supposed that I was academically gifted due to the fact that I have rather Asian features and eat with chopsticks, I'd be a very wealthy woman, retired to some tropical coast, where the only numbers that ever concerned me were the times of the tides. All right, so perhaps that is a slight exaggeration, but one can remain optimistic. It is too bad that nothing REALLY comes of the Chinese-American stereotype except a vague frustration. 

I remember my Chinese school class, back in the day. It was mostly a fun time, and certainly I learned a lot of Chinese language skills. Class was every Friday night, a group of fresh-scrubbed, Abercrombie-wearing Oriental clones who listened to pop music and drew anime. Needless to say, we also all played piano, got at least a 3.7 GPA (though whichever unfortunate schmuck was currently getting a B in one class or another would NEVER admit it), and took more AP classes than was ever healthy. While we sat in class and puzzled over Chinese texts, our parents were often sitting out in the lobby, chatting in that ever-polite and slightly smug Chinese way about their offspring. Oh, did Elizabeth just take ACT? Yes, very difficult test. When my daughter take it, she ONLY got 32... Oh, we all knew what was going on, because lectures would ensue once class was over and we were all packed back into our parents' cars. Did you know Mrs. Lin daughter got 32 on ACT and study every day for three hours? Ai-yah, why you not study more? Spend too much time on internet and drawing. College need good score, you know!

Yes, yes, I know. I've only heard it twenty times a week since I was twelve and my parents heard of that thing called the 'Midwest Talent Search'. Like the rest of them, I'd go home and take out one of many dog-eared ACT and SAT prep books and go at it as though the world were ending. Or play the piano. Or something.