From young, we’re taught to categorize things and awarded with smiley faces or stickers. {Apple, banana, mango} … Fruits? Yes. {Fish, donkey, pig} … Animaux? Oui. And then born were stereotypes. We each live with it in our own ways, for some they enjoy the perks, for others, it is a task and even sometimes, life threatening.

My little brother excitedly tells me that he got an A on his last science project. Of course, I congratulate him and let him bask in his glory…for 1, 2, 3 seconds; time’s up. “So,” I ask him, “You’re finally studying? This is new.” He replies, “Yeah, I’m trying to be Asian.”

Sometimes we just live to fulfill our stereotypes. I mean, if that’s what people believe, why go through all the trouble to prove them wrong. You like science? How about math? Typical.

The role of the parent is a dominant factor shaping a vulnerable child’s own expectations of him or herself. It’s true that some parents aren’t too concerned about topping the class, but merely making it to the next grade. I am not accustomed to such thoughts. Preposterous!

To the Asian parent, there is only one grade possible. All others are prone to lashing; be it verbal or physical (I’m kidding…). It appears that this species of parents are not well informed on the grading scale. The extent of their mentality allows for only a system filled of a discontinuous relationship between performance and grades. It looks a little like this:

“Mom, I got an A!”

“What A?”

“I got an 85 on my last paper!”

“Who says that is an A?”

“Uh, the school?”

“So are you telling me that you didn’t study? What is this 15% error I’m hearing about? I will tell you father.”

Gulp.

I ask my friend whether he can twirl a pen. He replies, “Of course, I’m Asian.” I dart away from the mirrors. He tells me that I can’t learn it now. “It’s a high school thing,” he says smugly. Apparently there is a critical learning period for these things that I was unaware of in my upbringing in white suburbia.

In class, I ask another Asian friend whether she can twirl a pen. I mean, maybe she can’t? (And I won’t be alone.) To my dismay, I once again witness the formidable pen flip from one side to the other with a movement so effortless. She proceeds to show me more variations of the flip, from which she claims to have copied from simply watching another student in class at a distance!

I am hopeless. There must be something in these genes susceptible to this defining characteristic. I am to prove something to all of them. I begin with the history. From what I remember, it had become very popular in Hong Kong and spread like wild fire from student to student, teaching each other this wonderful form of entertainment. There are other earlier claims made by the Japanese…but who really knows?

Next, I search for instructional videos. Needless to say, the results are innumerable. I am in shock of some of them and know that I will probably never achieve that level. Long story short, I can now twirl a pen around my thumb (beginner’s flip) with greater that 50% accuracy. I knew I had it in me, somewhere.