American Dream
CONTENT WARNING: mentions of war
AMERICAN DREAM
It was nearing the end of the Vietnam war in 1975. The North had been approaching victory and had began to advance towards the southern capital. Soldiers lined the streets waiting for the next signal at a moment’s notice. They waited daily for the signal of the approaching Northern enemies. Each day in Saigon was filled with suspicion and paranoia as everyone knew the bombs would come eventually, and they did. They came, and my mother was there to witness it all.
It was just a little before noon at Khai Minh Elementary school. She sat fidgeting with her pencil in her small hands whilst halfheartedly listening to the droning lectures of Teacher Huynh on how to read in Chinese.
Pushing her glasses further into the crevice of her nose, Teacher Huynh stood up, her statuesque figure looming over the sixty bored first graders in the class, “Class. Repeat this sent–....”
Boom! Suddenly, a large sound the equivalent of bursting volcanoes along with firecrackers had rang through the classroom, lasting for several seconds. From then on, everyone in class had dropped the facade of happiness. It was no firecrackers. The war had come for them.
Pale faced and shaken, Teacher Huynh uttered, “Now now class. There’s nothing to worry about stay cal-”
But it was too late. The class erupted in hysteria, breaking the previous mist of silence.
One could hear nothing but the uneasy squeak of the sea of chairs and the millions of murmurs saying, “Sei lah! Sei lah! Am I going to die today?”
Suddenly, Principal Trinh burst through the door with a grave look on his face. He gestured towards Teacher Huynh and whispered to her. Teacher Huynh silently nodded, “Oanh Van please report to the principal’s office.”
Her whole world had collapsed. Had she got into trouble? Would they keep her there to die even after the bombs? Why then of all times would she get into trouble? With the sea of children all staring at her, she slowly made her way towards the principal with her red face down facing the floor. She looked up at teacher Huynh, who said nothing.
Later on, it turned out that she hadn’t been in trouble but instead had been released early. She was from the only family fortunate enough to own a telephone. If she had been any poorer, she would have stayed with the rest of her classmates huddled up fearing for her life. She ended up only being able to warn two of her friends before she got picked up by her worried Uncle Cam on his Vespa away into the city.
This was the last time she would see her two friends, Teacher Huynh, all of her schoolmates, but this was not the last time she’d ever hear a bomb. This was not the last time she’d fear for her life. Only a couple days after this, she would see the victorious Viet Cong marching in the city in solemn grandeur. Only a couple months after this, the Viet Cong would have full control over the city. Only a couple months after, her family’s once thriving printing company would be taken by the government. Only a couple years after this, her family would feel the economic hardships of communism. Only a couple years after all the bombs, violence, and economic struggle , her family would finally realize that they needed to leave the motherland that had once gave them generations of family, fortune, and their livelihood.
They left in pursuit of the American dream, to search for the golden land of opportunity: America. They pushed for an almost impossible dream in a foreign land where the language barrier was a forcefield that laughed back at their thick Vietnamese accents. They studied hard in school while getting nothing in return but welfare and bullies that waited everyday in school to trip them and call them “Ching Chongs” that needed to go back to where they came from.
Despite all adversities of living in a cruel foreign land, they achieved every immigrant’s dream, and as a result I’m standing here today attending one of the best schools in the country in the historical town that started America. No, they are not lazy welfare abusers who do nothing but collect government checks. Yes, they are refugees that contributed to society. Yes, they deserve to be a part of America, just like every other immigrant that tries to make it to the promised land, whether it be a refugee from Syria or a Latinx immigrant. Yes, every immigrant plays a special role in making up the diverse melting pot that is America.
by VIVIAN HO