... notable events : Yellow snow

It was one of the coldest winters on record. Three feet of snow. Even for a place like Michigan, that was almost unheard of, and yet that was the first winter of my life.

Every morning I would get up at hours that seemed far too ridiculous if you asked me. I also developed a healthy respected for toilet seats on cold winter mornings as well as an appreciation for the blessing of hot water. After the chores of getting a sleep-leaden body back to a decently acceptable level of activity, it was downstairs to the kitchen to the strains of "Good Morning Captain", my favourite jingle. Apple juice, an almost unheard of luxury back home, came in gallon sizes! Crunching on my Captain Crunch peanut-butter-flavoured cereal, I would get ready for school.

Mom would wrap me up in a sweater, a coat, a scarf, long pants, thick woollen socks, boots and mittens. Then it was across the street past the fat traffic cop also bundled in his winter coat and onto the yellow school bus to Mackinley Elementary School. The top of the pops at the time, "You light up my life" would blare over the radio as I freeze my scrawny bum off in the bitter cold. The school wasn't too far away but when you're only 6 years old, everything is far away.

For the first couple of weeks, I had joined the rest of the Grade 1 class and was the only blacktop in a sea of blondes and brunettes. Colouring, playing, sleeping, reading and writing we would go. For lunch we would troop down to the school's cafeteria-cum-hall where every student got a set meal of milk, bread, salad, yogurt and an apple, always an apple. I hardly touched the food. I was a little Chinese boy and I wanted Char Kuay Teow and Hainanese Chicken rice! But they made me eat claiming I was under-norished and underweight for my age. There was an elitist segregation at work here. Use poor students taking government food, sat lower down at tables on the main hall floor whilst students seated on the stage were left alone by our prison wardens, the blessed few who had packed lunches from home. They were the ones who had the little smirks on their faces, knowing that they drew the envious stares from the floor. I longed to be there too.

I begged and I pleaded to mom. "Mummy, pleaseeeee." I said. Finally she relented and one day I turned up with a shiny new "Superman" lunchbox, complete with a good ol' wholesome home cooked meal! That it usually consisted of nothing more fancy than a goober-grape sandwich, a hot thermos of soup and a fruit of some sort never detered me. I was the elite now! I couldn't stop grinning that first day I sat high above the rest, munching my home-packed lunch, out of reach of those nasty teachers who would make you eat disgusting things like yogurt.

Gym was fun. It was expecially fun because of two reasons. One was the climbing rope which went high, far above to the ceiling. We would climb this rope in turn, and the view from the top was absolutely breathtaking. We were taller than the tallest teachers! Shimming up and down like the monkey that I was, it was my favourite gym activity. The other favourite was the squats. It was tiring stuff but I loved it because no one else could squat the way I could. I was after all, a proud descendant of a people who squated everywhere. I was stable and never once fell back onto my butt. For one fleeting moment, I had my place in the sun, when I was asked to demonstrate to my poor unfortunate classmates, the perfect squat, and how to rise up to standing position without using one's hands. I was king.

My Grade 1 teacher was a pretty lady with long blonde hair. Unfortunately she didn't stay with us long and left halfway through the school term on maternity leave. Our next teacher, Mrs. Pat Bailey with the curly brunnete curls in her long knee-length flowery dresses was an old lady, but then again, almost every teacher to me was an old lady. She was nice but stern. She also had this penchant of calling my parents to talk, and whilst talking they had a nasty habit of looking my way with a disapproving look on their faces. I wish I knew what that was all about.

There was always something interesting going on at school. Show and tell came around where my parents made a short presentation on Malaysia and passed around a few Malaysian Ringgit notes. I smiled happily when the notes came around to me and very proudly passed them on to the person behind me. Then there was valentine's day and everyone got busy making little valentine cards for each other. It's always a pleasant surprise to find out that you're really quite liked, and taunts of "Chinese, Japanese, Dirtynese, what are these" from the boys notwithstanding I think I received more "Be my Valentine" cards from the girls in class than I gave out. Another time, a police officer came and talked to us about safety and how the policeman is your friend. I think I spent the entire time staring at his gun and don't remember a single thing that he said. I probably would have forgotten even his "Policeman is your friend" message too if not for the "Friend of the Police, Kalamazoo Michigan" certificate I got for answering something right.

Recess in my opinion, was the major downside to the whole school-thing. That was because they kicked us all outdoors at the recess bell. It was cold. Who in the right mind goes out happily into the cold? I was usually alone and would drift on my own to the fence and back, engrossed in my own thoughts. The other kids would play ball but I was never invited. A little game I would play on my own was to imagine I was lost in a vast snow-covered desert, searching for water and the way home. I knew other kids played the same game too because sometimes I would get some of them following me around with the same "I'm going to die, save me" look on their face, or sometimes I would latch onto a string of other kids trampling around in the snow and drifting about like a true lost-soul. We would often pause to eat the snow, and that's when I learnt that you only eat the white stuff. Never, ever, eat the yellow coloured snow. That was nasty stuff. It was great fun except that gobbling lots of snow usually meant needing to go to the toilet desperately later on. The toilet was one of my major grouches at the time. Firstly, they locked the school doors so that every kid is outdoors. You had to look for a teacher to let you in. Secondly, the nice untrampled smooth snow perfect for lost-wanderer games was to be found at the furthest corners of the field. To go all the way to the school building meant a long trek back and then another long trek out to resume being lost. I hated going to the toilet during recess. It was during one such recess period and I was trampling around lost in the furthest corner of the school field when I found myself desperately in need to go. That morning, I made my fateful decision. The toilet was too far, the teachers too mean and the need too urgent. Yellow snow. The other kids probably did it too. So I went. I was so far away no one would ever notice.

Boy was I wrong. Mrs. Pat Bailey was waiting for me when the bell rang for us to return to class. What was impossibly far for a 6 year old apparently wasn't really that far for an adult. My parents were called, again, and they went and did their disapproving nodding at me again, but this time proved a little different. I got a thorough whacking at home that night. It was a painful lesson learnt. One that for the rest of my life I would remember. Not only must you not eat yellow snow, you must also NOT MAKE YELLOW SNOW.