A New Kid in Class

My name is Julie Lee. My parents are Chinese. Even though I consider myself American, I am also Chinese. We live in a one-story house filled with antiques. You might think my parents are antique dealers. They are not. They just like to collect stuff. Both my parents are lawyers. They are quite successful. You might be wondering if my parents are so successful, why we don’t live in a big mansion with servants. Well, my parents like to keep things low key. They save all the money they can.

Our neighborhood is very nice. We are like one big family. Recently, one of our neighbors moved out to Texas and a new family moved in. My parents and I decided to make a bean casserole and take it to their house as a welcoming gift to the neighborhood. We hoped to be good friends with them.

My Dad rang the doorbell. A short woman with long hair till her knees and a tired look on her face answered it.

“Hello.” My mom said cheerfully. “You must be tired from all the unpacking. We won’t bother you; we just brought you a bean casserole. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“No, not at all,” said the woman kindly. “Please come join us for dinner”.

We followed the nice lady. The house was filled with boxes. We walked around them and found our way to the dinner table and sat down.

While eating dinner I noticed both the son and father had hats on. The boy was 7 years old, and the girl looked about my age. My dad told them our names and in turn we found out that the girl was named Jasmine and the boy was called Arjun. Out of curiosity my mom asked about the hats the son and the father had worn. I nudged my mom. I was afraid they might think we were being rude.

But they seemed to welcome the question. “Well,” the dad replied, “I am so glad you asked. Most people just stare. We are Sikhs, by the order of our Guru, we keep our hair and never cut it. To hold our hair we tie it up into a jura, or a bun at the top of our head and tie a cloth around it keep it secure. It is called a turban or when it is smaller, it is called a patka.”

“My daughter, Julie will be starting fourth grade tomorrow,” said my mom. “I am sure Julie, and your daughter Jasmine will be good friends.” Jasmine and I looked shyly at each other.

“Our son, Arjun will be going to 2nd grade in Julie’s school,” said Jasmine’s mom.

“Wonderful,” my mom exclaimed, “I am sure he will make many friends in school.”

The next day at school, our teacher Ms. Applegate introduced Jasmine to the rest of the class.

“Class,” said Ms. Applegate, “this is Jasmine. She has moved from Maine all the way here. I want you to make her feel welcome. Oh and Julie, you will be her buddy for the next two weeks until she gets accustomed to things here”.

Jasmine slid into her seat next to me. She looked nervous, like she was going on stage for a speech.

“Chill,” I said,” School isn’t a battlefield.”

Jasmine nodded gratefully.

During lunch I asked Jasmine if she would sit with me, and we found an empty table in a quiet spot. While eating lunch, we couldn’t help but hear shouting coming from the next table. We turned and what I saw shocked me. The boys on the next table were taunting Arjun and making fun of his patka!

Jasmine had a look of horror on her face. I was about to go over there and get mad at the boys, but Jasmine held me back.

“No, don’t,” she said firmly.

No matter how much I wanted to march over there and give the boys a good telling off, I knew Jasmine was right. It would only make things worse.

All the classes after lunch were my favorite subjects, but I was too consumed in my thoughts to pay attention. My mind was replaying over and over again the image I had seen during lunch. I did not hear the bell ring, signaling that school was over.

I saw Jasmine standing a few yards away, alone. I jogged up to her and ask, “Do you want to walk home with me?”

“Sure,” she replied absentmindedly. The walk home was silent. By the look on her face, I could tell that she was mulling over the day’s events, particularly what happened during lunch.

“Hey,” I said, stopping suddenly, “why don’t we do something about it?”

“About what?” Jasmine asked curiously.

“About what happened to your brother during lunch. We could make a presentation about your family and share it with Arjun’s class, and maybe after that those boys will stop pestering him.”

“Great idea!” Jasmine exclaimed, her eyes shining.

And so the work began. I ended up learning a lot about Jasmine’s religion. I learnt that Guru Nanak, the founder of their faith, was an activist. I like to think, so am I. He preached equality for all, and respect for diversity. I liked that message. He travelled a lot sharing his simple but powerful message to bring peace in the world. How cool, I thought.

With the help of Jasmine’s mom we created a presentation. Jasmine drew the maps and wrote a short summary of Guru Nanak’s beautiful message. On Friday, the presentation day, Jasmine and I went to Arjun’s class. Shaking off my nervousness, I started talking.

“There are many kinds of people in the world,” I said. “Those people come from many different backgrounds and religions. Today we will be talking to you about a religion called Sikhism.”

I nodded to Jasmine and she took off, showing India on the map, and explaining all the beliefs of her religion and other interesting information. She also un-tied Arjun’s patka and let everyone see his beautiful unshorn hair. Everyone thought his hair was beautiful. At the end of our presentation the teacher said, “Thank you, Jasmine and Julie for being so resourceful.”

We left the room in high spirits, hoping that the problem was solved. The next day at lunch, our high hopes were rewarded. The kids, who were taunting Arjun the other day, were now sitting side by side with him, laughing and having fun with him.