St. Mallory's Forever!

12. XUAN : Sweet & Sour

No, that's not an order at the local take-away. And don't think I haven't heard every possible variation on the Chinese take-away jokes, so don't even go there.

No, sweet and sour sums up the day, pretty much.

Sour? Well, obviously those blasted ESL lessons for starters. Okay, my turn to do the silly racist jokes bit. Why is it the British think anyone from overseas is a) deaf and b) has the IQ of a mentally challenged slug?

Seriously, if one more person comes up to me and starts speaking in monosyllabic phrases, one word at a time, at the top of their voice, I shall add them to the list for molecular rearrangement with a lacrosse stick.

Actually, that list is growing at an alarming rate. For starters there's a little clique of really snobby girls who find some inane amusement in saying konichiwa and sayonara to me. One even called me a Geisha girl!

Er, hello! That's Japan, don't you know?

Then there's the music teacher, who called me Zu-anne. "It's Xuan, Miss. Rhymes with thin," I said, with that polite painted-on smile that comes from years of bitter experience.

Then the crazy woman tried to sit me next to a Korean girl in class so we could chat together in our own language. Korean? I know more Klingon than I do Korean!

Luckily the other new girl, Helen, called me to sit with her, which proved to be quite a bonus, because the new teacher seemed to take a shine to the new girl and kept asking her all the questions. It was almost like they knew each other from somewhere.

Another one for molecular rearrangement with the lacrosse stick? Well actually, no. I'm giving this teacher the benefit of doubt, because she's new here too. Bad enough being a new pupil here. I'd hate to be a new teacher.

Mrs. Stroud, her name. "Rhymes with cloud," she told me, which I thought was kinda sweet. I gave her my best tee-hee laugh. At least she was making an effort. And to be honest, I was feeling almost sorry for her by the end of the first music lesson. I mean, don't get me wrong the girls were all impeccably behaved, to all outward appearances. But put a new teacher in a class of teenage girls and they will take full advantage.

So poor Mrs. Stroud tried to ally herself with me and Helen (rhymes with melon, har har) to keep some semblance of dignity. Thinking back, she allied herself mostly just with Helen, actually.

I can see this Helen girl is going to be teacher's pet in music class. We talked briefly about Russian composers, and only Helen and I seem to have heard of them before. Not that I let on. I played it quiet. But I was well impressed with Helen – she knows her Shostakovich from her Rimsky-Korsakov, I can tell you.

When Mrs. Cloud – oops, I mean Stroud – asked each of us which instruments we played Helen's list went on so long I thought maybe she was a one-man (one-girl?) band. I'm guessing she must be here on a music scholarship.

Then Mrs. Stroud got to me. When I said I could play the konghou, the diyingehu, the xiaoluo and the dagu, and was learning the aijieke, Mrs. Stroud stared at me with an expression somewhere midway between a startled axolotl and a hungry koi carp, then swiftly moved on.

I think I'd like to get to know Helen more. She looks like a lost sheep most of the time (not literally, of course – although that fringe she hides behind does have a certain ovine quality), and it's only in music class she seems to come out of her shell. Which is mixing metaphors, I know, but I'm allowed. After all, English is my fifth language.

Yeah, and I just realised I said like a lost sheep, so that's actually a simile. So bite me.

Anyway, back to Helen. Like I said, this was a sweet and sour day, and Helen was the sweet bit. We found ourselves next to one another in the corridor and Helen tried to start a conversation with me – you know, ice-breaker stuff. I thought maybe we could talk about music. I could just see in her eyes she wanted to know what a konghou and a xiaoluo look and sound like – she was the only one who didn't snigger when I mentioned them.

But just as we were getting acquainted that blasted ESL guide came up and grabbed my arm, carting me off to read Janet and John. Hello? I know the way by now!

Confucius, he say: just because someone no speak English, no mean they cannot find classroom on their own. Obviously the staff at St. Mallory's haven't studied Confucius. Ah well...