Teachers Have Feelings Too
One hot summer day, in college, Professor Yi-Chen took a poll from the class on whether or not students should have the responsibility of taking care of their older parents. Like the filial Chinese son that I am, I initially raised my hand in favor. My eyes scanned across the room of wooden desks. Some hands were raised in favor, some hands were half raised, some were busy doing work for other classes, while others were busy sleeping. Professor Yi-Chen, with his gray ponytail and wrinkled smile, stroked the bottom of his chin and kept repeating the phrase, “Interesting…interesting.” Despite meeting 3 times a week for over 15 weeks, he could tell that the majority of the classroom was not engaged. His students varied from football athletes looking to get an easy pass for their humanities requirements, to international students who only picked the course because his name sounded like theirs. Professor then flipped the question, and now asked which students were against taking care of one's parents. As the Black Sheep of my family, I felt the urge to raise my hand against the notion as well:
“Michael,” he said,
“Why did you raise your hand twice?”
This was the obvious answer, because it depends. There are so many factors and variables that need to be taken into account before making a blanket statement such as this one. Did the parents provide for their child? Did they really try their best in raising them? What if they disowned them for getting a tattoo? Or more controversially, for being gay?
“Professor,” I answered,
“I think that if the parents truly did their best and sacrificed for their children, then, of course, the child should bear the responsibility of taking care of them in old age. But sometimes that isn’t the case.”
“Don’t you think it’s important to respect their wishes?” He asked, fully baiting me in.
“My father walked out of my life 8 years ago: he gambled away our future and fled to Taiwan. He never paid child support, he never came back to even visit his own father as he was dying. My mother and I struggled for years to pay our bills and put food on the table. How could you possibly expect me to take care of someone who doesn’t deserve it?”
The walls in Barrow Halls echoed with silence. Professor Yi-Chen pushed his glasses up and sighed. Oh, to be young and naive.
“Listen here,” he said.
“I’m going to tell you a story, and just to let you know, I know what it’s like to have a tough dad. How do you think my dad felt when I told him I was moving halfway across the world to study Sociology? You think he liked that?” The classroom was uncomfortably silent.
“I’ve had countless fights with my dad on traveling to America to get my Master's degree in Sociology. He laughed in my face and told me it was a waste of time. Do you know how much a Graduate Student Instructor makes per year? Less than $25k! I eat the $1.50 hot dogs at Costco at least three times a week to save money.” In this moment, I am truly the biggest asshole there is.
“Before I left Taiwan…” He paused,
“My dad set me down. He told me, ‘Yi-Chen, I’m getting older now. I know that I haven’t really been supportive of you going to the U.S, but I know life will be hard once you move.’ he reached toward a tiny reflective tin can from underneath the bed and opened it.
It was $5,000. Even though he was retired, my dad still found a way to scrounge up some money to help support my move. He said, ‘It’s not much, but I hope this money can help support a few months rent.’ In that moment, I felt nothing but guilt.” Ditto.
“Anyways,” he continued,
“My father said, ‘Yi-Chen…I can’t stop you from going to America, but I’ll find a way to survive, you must promise me you will visit. You must promise me you will come back to visit Taiwan. Promise that you will come back to visit me.’ Of course, I promised him that I would visit. What kind of ungrateful son would I be after he pretty much gave me his life savings?” Professor paused.
“...And I was never able to live up to that promise. In the middle of my program, covid hit and lockdown restrictions were at an all-time high. I was never able to visit or check up on him, and my father passed away.”
The entire classroom was speechless. All we could do was sit there and be swaddled with shame. Who were we to complain about having to take care of our parents, when he didn’t even have that choice?
“What I’m trying to tell you all, is that sometimes it's just not worth it. It’s not worth holding onto a grudge for so long only to never really make up with the person.” He sighed. The lesson was over. After class, I walked back home, called my family, and told them I loved them. Who knew teachers have feelings, too.
