Today is Thursday. It’s 9:23 pm and I have just finished studying my black covered Bible; the one my very religious mother gave to me before coming to America. She had put my sister and me in the habit of reading it every night before going to bed, and we did that since we were in primary school. I personally developed the habit of reflecting what I had read from it on the things I did during the day. Maybe the most significant ones, or rather, one. What I, by chance, get to read today is Luke 6 vs 37, “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned … ” (NIV Bible). After reading, I will normally leave the book open and turn to the other side to do some deep thinking. But this time, I am easily pricked by what I have read. I get into my head to think almost too abruptly and remember an event which happened four weeks ago. I stiffen my body and refuse to move even an inch as if moving will bring a shower of blames on me. I am contented with the remorse I feel by myself.

Earlier on that day, I was walking lethargic to my next lecture after being greatly influenced by boredom from the previous one. The soft song-like bell rang, although it signaled that my next lecture had already begun, I first castigated it for being too alarming to me at that moment before giving it the accolade it deserved . I knew I needed to run but I said within me, “I pray the instructor also comes late.”
Of course, my prayer failed me. I could hear some people giggle aloud from the passageway where I was. I met the female math instructor standing at the front of the class, behind the table, just opposite the board. Her name is Mrs. Alvina. She is quite funny. She always introduces a comic relief into her lectures and it works. She is very aware that some people find her course very uninteresting; not because she is its instructor, but because they rarely understand it. But good for her. She has figured her own way of making her math lecture less tense, more interesting, and comprehensible. I remember I have once waited after a lecture to help her erase the board just because the lecture was interesting – not because I understood.

As I walked to one of the seats that were merged to about nine others, I tried to avoid the eyes of the students that were ready to castigate me with looks for coming 180 seconds late to class. My head directed my eyes to the right corner of the whiteboard which was already browning from overuse and I saw the date. Coupled with the remorse those eyes made me feel, I lost my consciousness for two seconds, some kind of fear pushed my chest forward, and I almost tripped. Today is the last day of lecture before our exam!

I sat down without looking at the soft padded chair, generating a noise with my sitting as if I was the first person to get to class. I catch a considerable amount of eyes whose ears were close enough to hear me breath deep from anxiety. The class was extra silent today. So unusual. At least some people will usually raise a voice of contribution to what the instructor was saying. ‘Well then’, I was not the only one anxious and that was a bit relieving.

She had not gone deep into the lecture and so it was easy to catch up. As I listened, I noticed something about myself – the ends of my lips were widening in an angle that connotes a smile, and I adjusted my sitting position to one of confidence. Most of the things she was explaining, in fact, every one of them looked too familiar to me. They were all from the math textbook itself. I was so happy and impressed about my knowledge that I could not stop myself from smiling when I tried to. (I have taken my math seriously this semester. I have sometimes burned the candle just to have a full understanding of the topic treated in class. I have privately met my instructor when any of the math problems gives me a problem. Whenever my instructor was not in seat or when the explanation given by her was not lucid enough, I have taken my time to walk around in the math department, marching from one office to another, from a math graduate student to a math instructor in search of anyone free enough to explain a strange or difficult question. I have been studying. Maybe hard if my high school science teacher will ever agree to acknowledge it as one.)

I smiled all through the class. I’m not too sure if I really did, but at least, I can’t remember myself retracting my lips after I started smiling.
The class ended and we were left to our fate regards the exam. Everyone scattered all about the door trying to leave while I bent down to pick my black leather bag which already has a lot of stress-lines from careless use. As I zipped up my bag, I took a little while to remember how much I had pleaded to convince my mum to buy me a new bag two months ago. Well, it’s never too late to start doing things better. I lifted up my bag with much more care than I had ever done and as I turned to leave. Then I met a fresh, brownish yellow face with very dark curly hair and small eyes looking at me from its fairly larger dark green glass, right about two to three inches from my face. We steered at each other for a stretch of 10 seconds - I with abrupt surprise and he with no body language I could interpret - until a passerby helped us break the silence with his throat clearing.

“Hi, bro.” He said.

“Hi.” I repeated while still looking at him, expecting him to say something else.

“I … uh … need you to explain this course to me. I don’t understand it.” he said.

I widened my eye in genuine shock, like every enlightened child would do if they get to learn that Albeit Einstein was never a genius. This request was the last thing I expected from a male Asian who wore glasses. It was contrary to what I had always known about Asians – Asian plus Math, tangible! I was totally engulfed in my conception towards them and was not yet ready to accept that what I believed was wrong.


Although I had a very clueless idea of what actually made me have that misconception, I was sure I could put the blame on the educational society. But still, since according to an African-American prolific writer Chimamanda Edichie’s assertion during a Ted-Talk show: “stereotypes are true but incomplete stories” stereotypes cannot be attached to a particular group if the group doesn’t show a trait of it, I believe that the educational society is somewhat right.

In an online discussion regarding the topic - “Why Asians are better than Americans at math”, there was an anonymous but factual and now well-known response which expressed that Asian students are not allowed to use calculators until university level. (Studentrnd.org). A student who has done all his or her mathematical operations by head for a span of 12 years (in preparatory and high school) will in no doubt be very strong at math, and this is enough to stereotype that every Asian student is smart.

“Uhm … “I’m not that good in math” I replied.

“But I saw you smiling with confidence during the lecture. I think you understand it somehow. You know what, please, just explain to me what you know, I’ll manage it.” He now looked too desperate to be ignored as he spoke. I could not but say “Okay.”

He showed more readiness than I did by asking if we could relocate to another classroom for the tutoring.

As I walked beside him the towards the adjoining classroom in confusion, doubt, and surprise, the serenity and absence of bright light in the passageway ushered me into an autumned forest of deep thought where I sadly sat under the shade of a tree and I began to think of every possibility I could imagine. Does he actually want to use me to assess his math proficiency? Does he want to disgrace my knowledge and prove that it’s not worth smiling for? After this flow of thoughts, I consequently remembered that I belong to a group that has a negative educational stereotype. As contrary to the case of Asians, the educational society believes that African students generally have poor educational performance. This even made the situation less easy to think about without falling into confusion. The fact that he, an Asian, came to meet me, an African, now looked very senseless to me.

I did what I could do in explaining what I understood to him and he really showed how much enlightened he was. He said a lot of thank you’s and was about to leave. During the tutoring, nothing suspicious happened, and that really meant a lot to me. I welcomed his thanks and asked him to wait. I then threw the question at him: Is it true that all Asians are very proficient at math?

He sighed and said “that’s what people erroneously think about us, but really, it has nothing to do with genetics. The point is that most Asian parents push their children to do better than what they (the parents) have achieved back in their countries.” He then told me that he could not wait any longer as he was already late for work, and left. “Ohh, I even forgot to ask for his name. Too bad!” But he was surely my newest friend.

The main question is: why is it that so many Asians in North America do so well in Math and other Engineering courses?

According to Arthur Hu, an Asian author of an article titled “why does everybody think Asians are better at Math”, Asians who get the chance to come from their countries to the Northern part of America are the very educated ones. (par. 12). This means that if a population check regarding intellects is carried out in Asian countries, the result would show a variance of dumb, average, and smart population mix, and this result will definitely be consistent in every other country. This also agreeing with what my new friend told me, these smart parents who got the chance to migrate to North America will definitely want their children to be terrifically smart and will therefore not give their children breathing space from studies.

Now reflecting from the parent factor, what happens to students who don’t study anymore, students who no longer have their parents by their sides to mandate them to study after they have been sent abroad to study? May we say that how much they have studied in the past will help change their grades in the present? Surely not. Since Asian parents have always forced their children to study, studying to those children has become a habit. But unfortunately, every habit can be lost through prolonged refrain, so, some of these children tend to lose the habit of studying hard when their parents are far from them.

Similarly, not everyone was created to be educationally oriented. Some people happen to be Asian students who are naturally not mathematically or scientifically oriented, but prefer to be athletic or rather artistic. Do we force them to be ‘strong’ at math just because we want our stereotype concerning the group they belong to stand?

The door knob cranks open and my roommate walks in and meets me lying on the rug. He pretends he doesn’t know I am awake and kicks me softly trying to be funny while I giggle out loud as an encouragement for him to feel good about his sense of humor. Still smiling rather uncontrollably, he crosses over and walks to his bed, leaving me to continue in my thought. Oh, oh … I now understand this and can reflect it to myself: I have been studying my math and it has become familiar to me. He, although an Asian, probably has not been serious with the course and is now not confident in it. “Good, nice, good” I say with the voice of my mind while nodding my head softly.

Although your father and grandfather hail from a particular race, your academic success depends solely on how serious, determined, and ready you are to excel. If you study, you ace. If you don’t, you fail!