Silent Night

SILENT NIGHT
State College, PA
December 1986

It is December.  Christmas is upon us, whether we like it or not.  Me, I don’t like Christmas.  It’s too much.  I hate the constant playing of that insipid Christmas music in every venue in America.  I can’t stand the hustle and bustle in the stores.  The pressure to buy gifts out of obligation depresses me.  I can’t stand life from Black Friday until January 2. So as best I can, I make myself scarce during this most unpleasant time of the year.

However, no matter how much I try to avoid the damn holiday spirit, there are some tings that can’t be avoided: the office Christmas parties.  I HATE THEM. I HATE THEM. I HATE THEM.

So this year, as usual, I go to my obligatory office party filled with bad attitude.  I am working at the State College School District in the Adult Basic Education Program. We provide educational services to adults who have dropped out of high school and are working on a GED.   A few students are in need of a refresher course in basic literacy skills. We also offer English Language Skills (ESL) to those adults who are foreigners and don’t speak any English.  Most of our students are the spouses of the foreign graduate students at Penn State.

Our ESL students are usually very lonely, under-employed (if employed at all) and always so grateful for any help or companionship we offer. They only come out of their dingy basement apartments, where they are left alone for hours a day, to come to our classes. They arrive just on time, never early so that they do not have to engage in any discussions in English with us.  They can’t bear this burden.

But today, they are early.  We are setting up for our party and they have come with a native dish in hand. They worry that they may not have enough for everyone when in fact they have enough to serve us all 10 times over.  They are worried that we will not like what they made.

“It special dish for my country. It spicy.  You like spicy.  It not too spicy for you. OK”.

Meanwhile, the GED students show up ten to fifteen minutes late, with a couple of bags of chips and pretzels and are proud of themselves for even remembering to bring something. Their contributions are tossed on the table.  Some bags are already opened and it is obvious that people have begun snacking on the chips already.

These two groups of students do not usually interact with each other.  So there is a loud clashing of cultures.  US vs. THEM: those who speak fluent English, but generally with an indifference to structure and grammar and then those who are desperate to speak every word with a correctness that will assure them that no one sees them as an outsider.

The ESL students politely listen to the GED students and I can see a disconnect. The GED student speaks in idioms and slang that does not translate for the ESL student. And the ESL student will ask, “How you say in your country to wish a happy day on this holiday to girl with no Christmas?”  The GED student can’t understand the question and so just responds, “I don’t know, how the fuck do I know” and walks away. I jump in because I was there last week when we had the discussion that some  people  do not celebrate Christmas.

“Wish her a Happy New Year”, I tell her.  She writes this down in her little notebook for future reference.

Someone hands out sheet music and we engage in singing stupid Christmas songs.  I hate Frosty the Snow Man.  Chestnuts On An Open Fire is right up there on my list and so are many of the songs we sing.  But when I say we, I mean the staff.  The GED students are having none of this.  The foreigners don’t know these songs, which just reinforces my global commitment to stop teaching others our bits of culture that poorly represent us to the rest of the world.

Then we move to Silent Night.  This song seems to be the most recognized and engages the most participants.  Someone suggest that the ESL students sing this song in their native tongue and the Brazilians jump in there and start singing. The Polish are next.  Then there is a French woman.  The two women from Africa belt it out.  We move to the Chinese table and no one stands up to sing.  They looks nervously at us. There is an awkward moment when we all realize that the fear of Communism is present even in this room. So we move on to the Turkish family and they sing in beautiful harmony. 

As Margaret looks around to see if she missed anyone, a Chinese man stands up, alone.  He begins to say something and his friend pulls on his jacket to get him to sit down and be quiet.  He pulls away for her.  Another man leans across the table  and he, too, attempts to silence his friend. But the man shakes his head and begins singing.  His voice is mediocre but that doesn’t matter.  We are all mesmerized by this simple act that now seems so courageous to all of us.  His voice quivers and some notes don’t even come out of his mouth but he just mouths these words. While the words aren’t audible, his courage speaks volumes.   His friends squirm in their seats. Another man finally stands and finishes the song with him.  When they set down, we cheer and cheer and cheer.  The tension from that table is felt by all of us. The two men waved in gratitude but it seemed to me that they weren’t sure if this was a moment of freedom or regret.

State College, PA

1985