Why I Argue

It was Chinese New Year in second grade. We had all made our pretty red envelopes ready. Each of us had a piece of the creamy hard candy and now we were learning about the Chinese New Year Calendar and how some people are roosters and some people are dogs and some people are dragons.

"What year were you born in?" My teacher, a large Hawaiian woman who always wore truly horrible muu-muu's, asked my classmate Kyle.

"Uh...82?" Kyle squeaked out.

"Right, so according to this chart you were born in the year of the dog. The dog is known to be very honest and attentive. They listen more than talk and they make the best friends. Dog people are very hard-workers."

I listened to the whole thing about the dog, I read the paragraph, I thought it sounded a lot like me.

"Now, all of you need to research which sign you are. Look up the year you were born and then find out if you are a rooster or a dog or a rat. Then write a paragraph about the year you were born in."

There was a scramble and pile of kids in front of the big Chinese Sign with the Calendar and years printed on it. I hung back for a second, slowed by a need to not be crushed and a nagging thought in the back of my brain. The whole class was in second grade.

I looked over at one of my best friends who was also sitting and waiting. Mahealani was the same age I was.

Kyle was the same age Mahealani was.

If we were all in the second grade, and we were all the same age...

A couple kids bounced back to our table:

"I'm a dog too!"

"So am I. We're the same."

"Cool. Mazelle is a dog too."

None of the kids at my table save Mahealani were hard workers. I knew that for a fact. And Mazelle was definitely not a good friend. She lived down the street from me and was my first friend when we moved to Hawaii. She was now regarded as both dumb and the cruelest girl to ever live. She never listened and was really mean. She was definitely not like a dog person.

"What are you?" my table-mate asked.

I looked at the mess of kids still clambering at the sign. I finally figured out that nagging feeling that was in the back of my brain. "I'm a dog." I replied.

"No you're not, you don't even know, you didn't even go look."

"I'm a dog." I said again and then looked at the floor knowing I was about to get all the attention of the class very soon. I concentrated on getting my pencil out and my note book so I could write my paragraph.

"Mrs. Salazar!!!! {Katy} didn't go look at the board but she's writing her paper already!" The typical little traitor yelled.

"{Katy} what lunar year are you?" The monster in the muu-muu asked.

"I'm a dog." I repeated, fully aware that she was yelling across the room at me and now everyone was very interested.

"Did you look at the sign to find out?" She boomed?

"No, I'm the same as Kyle." I said matter-of-fact.

"Just because Kyle is a dog doesn't mean you are. You have to look on the sign."

"We're the same age. I was born in 1982 too." I hadn't argued with a teacher before. This was new and scary territory.

"{Katy} go up to the sign and look up your year."

The territory was too scary. I walked up to the sign, looked at the year 1982 and saw a picture of a dog. Everyone's eyes were following me and the laughs weren't even hidden.

"I'm a dog." I told her.

"Good. Now why don't you write about what it means to be a dog."

What it means to be a dog? After that day it meant arguing for your point, if only to get the idea out there. Even if it's wrong...at least there is discussion of information over censorship. At least there is another way to look at things. After that day being a dog meant chewing on the hand that fed you till you got the food.

Kung Hee Fat Choy!