I Don't Understand

Finally something I was good at I thought to myself, the mile run. It was mid October the air was crisp and the leaves were beginning to fall. Not too cold and not to hot, perfect. Fourth grade me thought I was the best of everything so I was pumped. All 27 of us lined up on the middle school track, we began to run and each lap we finished we got a popsicle stick and after we got our 4th we were finished. I was the fastest girl in the class with a time of 8 minutes and 22 seconds. I was so happy with myself, I felt like I had to prove something to everyone since I was still considered “the new girl”. 

After everyone was finished all of the boys congratulated me and gave me a high-five. As we were walking back to the school me and my classmate Rod started a conversation. 

“What sports do you play?” Rod asked.

“Soccer” I responded. I was scared that he was going to ask what team he played for next, Ohhh there it is.. 

“What team do you play for?” Rod asked. He had a look on his face that showed he was really interested in knowing. 

“Sadly, none right now, since my family and I just moved here a few months ago, but I’m really hoping to get one one soon.” I replied. 

“Family?” he asked looking a bit confused. 

“Yes, family” I said, What was he talking about? This is why I don’t like meeting new people! I thought to myself again.

 “Why do you say family with the AAAA sound like “Amber” and not like “Apple” Rod asked. 

“I have no idea, thats just how I grew up...”

I didn’t really have an explanation for him since I grew up talking like this. He speeded up ahead of me and as he was walking farther and farther away I heard him keep repeating the way I said family over again until he was so far ahead that it faded. I was afraid that people would make fun of me because they said 1 single, 6 letter word differently then me. What was the big deal I asked myself over and over in my head. That night when I got home I told my mom what happened. She grew up in Michigan so when she moved to Philly she had many of these encounters. Me and my sister began to ask her how she said certain things. 

“Mom how do you say soda?” my sister and I said in sync. 

“Pop” my mom answered. She was a little annoyed because we always asked her this and then laughed. 

“Why do you call it that? Its so weird and annoying. What happens when you first moved here and needed to order a drink?” We asked. 

She stopped answering us because there was nothing else she could say except for thats how she learned and how she grew up. In the short story, “Hunger of Memory”, Richard Rodriguez explains what happened the first time he heard his name pronounced in English. “The nun said, in a friendly but oddly impersonal voice, ‘Boys and girls this is Richard Rodriguez.’ The nun didn’t say his name like anyone he had heard before, she said it the American way, which he was not used to. Richard didn’t seem upset or mad that she said his name like this, it was more of a cultural shock, something he wasn’t used to.

When we hear something that may or may not be the way you know it, our immediate reaction is to judge, and ask them about it. Though, in reality nobody says everything the same as anyone else.