There's a seven-year-old boy who comes to my sanda class. He plays the violin. His English is terrific. And his name is Charlie. Charlie has decided to become my friend.
His first night of sanda was my third night. Since I'm the tall white guy, I naturally draw a little attention. I was practicing my punching (the only thing I knew how to do at the time), and Charlie came over to copy what I was doing. Suddenly he asked me, "Where are you from?" with very little accent. I told him I was from America. Then he asked, "Where are you from in America?" I was shocked. Never do you get a follow up question, at least in English. I told him that my home was near Chicago. That evening I would ask him questions in Chinese, and he would answer in English. He has better conversational skill and command of vocabulary than most of my grad students. He's also quite willing to help me with Chinese words and some grammar.
Charlie has a game that we play occasionally. If he walks past me to get some water or a snack, he'll throw a fake punch or kick, and I react appropriately. Sometimes I dodge it and "hit" him back. He'll act dizzy or swing his head like he just got smacked. Last night he acted out his teeth falling out, "like the cartoon cat and mouse," Tom and Jerry.
At the end of last night's grueling session (I was learning a new kick combination. My legs hurt in places that I didn't know had either muscles or nerves), the teacher made some of us lie on our stomachs while other guys stepped on our legs, butt or back to vibrate them and loosen them back up. It sounds weird, but it felt great: my legs were horribly tight. Charlie lay down facing me, and we chatted.
I asked what he was going to do on Saturday, and he said that he has a computer class (Chinese kids go to school nearly every day of the week in hopes of getting ahead and getting a good job someday). I told him that I was planning to meet a friend from England in the morning, see a Beijing Opera performance in the afternoon and watch The Return of the King with some friends in the evening. I told him the movie name in Chinese, and he was quite excited. I told him that it was good but pretty scary.
He asked me if I like Harry Potter, and I told him yes. He said that he really likes Harry Potter, but "when I watch the movie, I cry because it's scary." I love how straightforward he is. It's easy to forget that he's just a little kid when you're talking to him.
Posted by at March 27, 2004 8:15 AM