心靈美文_我的老師，我的摯友 My Teacher, My Friend
一個(gè)充滿魅力的人生猶如順河漂流,你永遠(yuǎn)不知道彎道那邊會(huì)有什么等著你,但你總是相信會(huì)有一些好心人在那里,以這樣或那樣的方式來(lái)幫助你,激勵(lì)你,引導(dǎo)你穿越激流。
The man who stood at the entrance to my new world passed away recently, and though I hadn’t seen him in more than three decades, the news of his demise1) left me unexpectedly bereft2). I remember a warm voice, expressive eyes, and bushy eyebrows that wiggled3) comically at a pun or a joke. I remember someone who treated me with care, made me feel special when I—a stranger on a new shore—was terribly lost and bewildered.
那個(gè)曾引我進(jìn)入新世界的人,最近辭世了。我已有三十多年沒(méi)有見(jiàn)過(guò)他,然而,聽(tīng)到他離去的消息,我還是感到一種失去至親的痛苦,這是我始料未及的。我記得他那溫暖的聲音、炯炯的眼神、濃密的眉毛——一句雙關(guān)語(yǔ)、一個(gè)笑話便會(huì)使他那濃眉滑稽跳動(dòng)。我記得,初次踏上這片陌生的海岸時(shí),我曾感到那么地失落、迷茫,是他給了我無(wú)微不至的呵護(hù),讓我感到自己與眾不同。
My Class with Mr. K 凱先生的課程
Ernie Kaeselau was my first teacher in America. Having fled Saigon in spring of 1975 during finals in sixth grade, I landed in San Francisco a couple months later and attended summer school in Colma Junior High in Daly City, preparing myself for seventh grade. At that time I didn’t speak English, only Vietnamese and passable French.
I never knew what Mr. K’s politics were—liberal is my guess. But when it came to me—the first Vietnamese refugee in his classroom—his policy was plenary4) kindness.
Mr. K’s first question was my name and his second was how to properly pronounce it in Vietnamese. He would ask me to repeat this several times until, to my surprise, he got the complicated intonation almost right. And soon thereafter, the Vietnamese refugee boy became the American teacher’s pet. It was my task to go get his lunch, erase the blackboard, and collect and distribute homework assignments. When I missed the bus, he’d drive me home, a privilege that was the envy of the other kids.
For a while, I was his echo. “Sailboat,” he would say while holding a card up in front of me with an image of a sailboat on it, and “sailboat” I would repeat after him, copying his inflection and facial gestures. I listened to his diction. I listened to the way he annunciated5) certain words when he read passages from a book. If he could say my Vietnamese name, surely I could bend my tongue to make myself sound more American.
That first summer, he gave me A’s that didn’t count. He took our little group bowling, formed a little team, and taught us how to keep score. Then, he took us on a baseball field trip, my first. He took his time to explain to me the intricacy of the game. It was followed by a trip to Sonoma to see wineries and cheese factories. I remember crossing the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time, with Mr. K’s voice narrating its history, how it was built, and I remember asking him afterward if it was made of real gold, and the entire bus erupted in laughter.
Along with a bowling team, Mr. K formed a little book club. And for a few dollars, we—children of the working class and immigrants—became owners of a handful of books. The box came one morning in the middle of class, and it felt a bit like Christmas in July. We jostled each other to be up front at his desk as Mr. K read the title of each book out loud, then matched the book with the name of its owner. My first book in America was The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame6), and I remember poring over7) its pristine8) pages in wonder. Perhaps it was then that the smell of fresh ink, paper and glue indelibly9) became for me the smell of yearning and imagination. I did not yet know how to read in English, oh, but how impatient I was to learn!
I pushed myself very hard to move forward. Within a few months, I began to speak English freely, though haltingly, and outgrew Mr. K’s cards. I made friends. I joined the school newspaper, became something of a cartoonist. By my second year in, I was getting straight A’s, no fake A’s needed anymore. Mr. K marveled at the change. I remember his astonished face when I argued against the class clown and won. I found my bearings10); I embraced my new world.
厄尼·凱瑟?jiǎng)谑俏以诿绹?guó)的第一位老師。1975年的春天,在六年級(jí)期末考試期間,我逃離了西貢,幾個(gè)月之后來(lái)到了舊金山,在達(dá)利市的柯瑪初級(jí)中學(xué)上暑期課程班,為上七年級(jí)作準(zhǔn)備。 那時(shí),我還不會(huì)說(shuō)英語(yǔ),只會(huì)說(shuō)越南語(yǔ),還會(huì)勉強(qiáng)說(shuō)點(diǎn)法語(yǔ)。
我從不知道凱先生信奉什么樣的政治觀點(diǎn)——我想大概是自由派吧。但在對(duì)待我——他班上第一個(gè)越南難民的態(tài)度上,他采取的政策是無(wú)限的仁愛(ài)。
凱先生問(wèn)我的第一個(gè)問(wèn)題是我叫什么名字,第二個(gè)問(wèn)題是這個(gè)名字在越南語(yǔ)里如何正確地發(fā)音。他要我一遍又一遍地重復(fù)這個(gè)發(fā)音,直到他差不多完全掌握了那復(fù)雜的音調(diào),這一點(diǎn)令我非常驚訝。此后不久,我這個(gè)越南難民男孩就成了這位美國(guó)老師身邊的紅人。替他打午飯、擦黑板、收發(fā)家庭作業(yè)都是我的差事。如果我趕不上班車,他就會(huì)開(kāi)車送我回家,這種特殊待遇讓所有同學(xué)都羨慕不已。
有段時(shí)間,我簡(jiǎn)直就是他的“應(yīng)聲蟲(chóng)”。他把一張畫有帆船的卡片舉到我面前,說(shuō):“帆船?！蔽冶隳７滤恼Z(yǔ)調(diào)和面部表情,跟著他念:“帆船?！蔽伊粜穆?tīng)他如何咬字,聽(tīng)他朗誦課文段落時(shí)對(duì)于某些詞如何發(fā)音。他都能學(xué)會(huì)說(shuō)我的越南名字,那我也一定能學(xué)會(huì)卷舌頭,好讓自己說(shuō)起話來(lái)更像美國(guó)人。
在美國(guó)的第一個(gè)暑期,他給我的成績(jī)是A, 但我知道這并不是我真實(shí)的成績(jī)。他帶著我們一小伙兒人去玩保齡球,還組建了一支小型球隊(duì),教我們?cè)鯓佑浄?。接?他又帶我們?nèi)グ羟驁?chǎng)看比賽,那是我第一次看棒球比賽。此后,他又帶我們?nèi)チ怂髦Z馬參觀釀酒廠和奶酪廠。我至今還記得第一次通過(guò)金門大橋時(shí)的情景,耳邊還回響著凱先生向我們講述大橋的歷史和建造過(guò)程時(shí)的聲音。我記得后來(lái)我還問(wèn)他,金門大橋是否真的是用金子造的,結(jié)果引得車上的同學(xué)們一陣爆笑。
除了組建保齡球隊(duì),凱先生還成立了一個(gè)小小的讀書俱樂(lè)部。我們這些勞動(dòng)階層和移民的孩子,只需花上幾美元便可成為一小部分書的主人。那箱子書是在一個(gè)上午送來(lái)的,當(dāng)時(shí)我們正在上課,一看到書,教室里立馬歡騰起來(lái),就像是在七月過(guò)圣誕一樣。我們一擁而上,跑到凱先生的桌前,聽(tīng)他大聲朗讀每本書的書名,然后將書名與主人的名字對(duì)號(hào)。我在美國(guó)擁有的第一本書是肯尼斯·格雷厄姆的《柳林風(fēng)聲》。當(dāng)時(shí)自己仔細(xì)閱讀那些嶄新書頁(yè)的情形,我至今仍記憶猶新?；蛟S就是從那時(shí)起,清新的油墨、嶄新的書頁(yè)和芳香的膠水所散發(fā)的味道,對(duì)我來(lái)說(shuō)成了渴望與想象的氣息,永難磨滅。當(dāng)然,我當(dāng)時(shí)還不能讀英文書,但我是多么如饑似渴、迫不及待地想要學(xué)會(huì)讀書啊!
我刻苦勤奮,以求進(jìn)步。短短幾個(gè)月內(nèi),我已經(jīng)可以自如地說(shuō)英語(yǔ)了,盡管說(shuō)得不是那么流利。我掌握的詞匯也已超出凱先生的卡片范圍。我開(kāi)始結(jié)交朋友,還加入了校報(bào),為報(bào)紙畫漫畫。到了第二年,我每門課程的成績(jī)都是A,而且是我名符其實(shí)的成績(jī),我已不再需要作為鼓勵(lì)的虛假成績(jī)了?？吹轿疫@些變化,凱瑟?jiǎng)谙壬@嘆不已。我至今仍記得,當(dāng)我和班上有名的調(diào)皮鬼辯論并獲勝時(shí),凱先生露出的表情是多么驚訝。我找到了自己的位置;我熱情地?fù)肀е业男率澜纭?
My Beautiful City 催人奮進(jìn)的城市
In my eighth-grade yearbook, in the lower left hand corner, Mr. K in his succinct11) and modest way left this note:
“To my good Friend. It’s been a pleasure to be your teacher & friend for 2 years. Don’t forget to keep me informed of your progress. Ernie Kaeselau.”
When I graduated from junior high, I came to say goodbye to Mr. Kaesleau and he gave me the cards to take home as mementos, knowing full well that I didn’t need them anymore. That day, I remember taking a shortcut over a hill and on the way down, I tripped and fell. The cards flew out of my hand to scatter like a flock of playful butterflies on the verdant12) slope. Though I skinned my knee, I laughed. Then, as I scampered13) to retrieve the cards, I found myself yelling out ecstatically14) the name of each image on each one of them—“school”, “cloud”, “bridge”, “house”, “dog”, “car”—as if for the first time.
It was then that I looked up and saw, far in the distance, San Francisco’s downtown, its glittering high-rises resembling a fairy-tale castle made of diamonds, with the shimmering sea dotted with sailboats as backdrop15). “City,” I said, “my beautiful city.” And the words rang true; they slipped into my bloodstream and suddenly I was overwhelmed by an intense hunger. I wanted to swallow the beatific landscape before me.
And that was that16), as they say. And I sailed on.
在我八年級(jí)的紀(jì)念冊(cè)里左下角的位置上,凱先生以他那簡(jiǎn)潔而謙遜的筆調(diào)寫下了他的留言:
“致好友:很榮幸做了你兩年的老師和朋友。有了進(jìn)步,勿忘告知。 厄尼·凱瑟?jiǎng)?。?
初中畢業(yè)時(shí),我去向凱瑟?jiǎng)谙壬鎰e。他將那些詞匯卡片交給我,要我?guī)Щ丶易鱾€(gè)紀(jì)念,顯然他很清楚,我已不再需要它們了。那天,我記得自己抄近路爬山回家。下山的時(shí)候,我絆了一跤,摔倒了?？ㄆ幌伦訌奈沂种酗w出,像一群嬉戲的蝴蝶一般灑落在郁郁蔥蔥的山坡上。雖然摔倒時(shí)擦破了膝蓋,但我卻大笑起來(lái)。然后,我開(kāi)始小跑著拾撿卡片,一邊拾一邊還如癲似狂地喊著卡片上每一幅圖片的名稱──“學(xué)?！薄霸撇省薄皹颉薄胺孔印薄肮贰薄捌嚒暴ぉぞ拖裎沂堑谝淮巫x到它們似的。
就在那一刻,我舉目遠(yuǎn)眺,在遙遠(yuǎn)的前方,我看到了舊金山市中心。在帆船點(diǎn)點(diǎn)、波光蕩漾的大海的映襯下,那里熠熠閃耀的高樓猶如童話中用寶石打造的城堡?！俺鞘邪?”我喊道,“我美麗的城市?！边@呼喊發(fā)自我的肺腑,溶入了我的血液。我忽然被一陣強(qiáng)烈的渴望所征服,我甚至想要吞噬眼前這片美麗的景色。
套用人們常說(shuō)的一句話:“那個(gè)階段的生活就此劃上了句號(hào)?！蔽依^續(xù)揚(yáng)帆前行。
My Article 作者無(wú)意,讀者有心
I went to Lowell High School—a prestigious public school in San Francisco. I made new friends and ended up at Berkeley. That is to say, I left the working-class world and worked myself toward all the shimmering high-rises and the city’s golden promises.
I didn’t bother to look back, didn’t bother to keep my mentor and friend abreast of my progress. Several decades later, I, on one whimsical17) weekend, decided to write an article about learning English, and Mr. K was featured promptly.
Did I know that Mr. K read and treasured that article? Did I know that he, in retirement, kept coming back to it, to my writing—to me?
No. Not until this note from his best friend, another teacher, informed me of his passing.
“Most of us know what pleasure Ernie got from your article.… He sent copies to many relatives back East. I’m sure he couched18) it in pride for what you have accomplished, but he was deeply honored. What no one knows is he was a bit unhappy that there was no retirement recognition. He told me many times he didn’t want any big deal, but as the years passed, he would speak somewhat wistfully19) of the lack of acknowledgement. You gave him acknowledgement.”
To be honest, it never occurred to me to see the story from Mr. K’s angle. I had grieved for Vietnam, for my lost homeland, for many other things. I had traveled around the world many times, but I didn’t go back to where that little junior high stood at the foot of the mountains. Living so nearby, I had felt, unreasonably, that were I to drive to the junior high and peek through the window of my mentor’s classroom, he would still be there—that Mr. K would always be there, making other needy kids feel special, and that there would always be little bowling teams and little book clubs in the summer. And in dreams and reveries20), haven’t I revisited him countless times?
But that’s the trouble with childhood, isn’t it, especially happy ones? Happy children don’t question their contentment any more than fish wonder about the river’s current; they swim on. My childhood, interrupted by war, was rekindled by kindness. I felt blessed and happy, I went on blessedly with my business of growing up. Mr. K opened the gate and ushered me in, and I, so hungry for all its possibilities, rushed through it.
我上了洛厄爾高中——這是舊金山一所知名的公立學(xué)校。我結(jié)交了新的朋友,最后進(jìn)入了加州大學(xué)伯克利分校。換句話說(shuō),我離開(kāi)了勞動(dòng)階層的世界,開(kāi)始一步步靠近那熠熠閃光的高樓大廈,奔向城市里的金色前程。
我從未回首,也不曾費(fèi)心思向我的老師和朋友匯報(bào)自己的新情況。只是幾十年后,在某一個(gè)周末,我忽然心血來(lái)潮地打算寫一篇關(guān)于英語(yǔ)學(xué)習(xí)的文章,凱先生的形象片刻間躍入我的腦海,成了我描繪的對(duì)象。
凱先生曾讀過(guò)我寫的這篇文章,對(duì)之珍愛(ài)有加;即便退休以后,他還常常重讀這篇文章,重溫我的作品,重新憶起我的點(diǎn)點(diǎn)滴滴。捫心自問(wèn):這些我都知道嗎?
不,對(duì)此我一無(wú)所知,直到他最好的朋友,也是一位老師,來(lái)信告訴我他去世的消息。
“我們很多人都知道,你的文章給厄尼帶來(lái)了無(wú)盡的快樂(lè)……他給東岸的許多親戚都寄去了這篇文章。對(duì)你取得的成就,我想他一定引以為豪,同時(shí)也深感榮耀。但人們不知道的是,他對(duì)退休時(shí)沒(méi)有得到表彰一直有些耿耿于懷。他多次對(duì)我說(shuō),他并無(wú)多大奢求。然而,隨著歲月的流逝,他常常會(huì)悵然若失地談到自己沒(méi)有得到應(yīng)有的認(rèn)可。是你給了他這種認(rèn)可?！?
說(shuō)實(shí)話,我從未想到過(guò)從凱先生的角度來(lái)看待問(wèn)題。我曾為越南感到悲傷,為我失去的故鄉(xiāng)感到悲傷,為許多其他的事情感到悲傷。我曾多次周游世界,但卻從未回到過(guò)那座位于山腳下的初級(jí)中學(xué)。也許是因?yàn)樽〉锰?我竟毫無(wú)緣由地認(rèn)為,只要我驅(qū)車前往學(xué)校,從我啟蒙老師的教室窗口往里張望,他一定還會(huì)在那里——?jiǎng)P先生一定會(huì)永遠(yuǎn)在那里,讓其他出身窮苦的孩子感到自己與眾不同,暑期里也總還是會(huì)有小型的保齡球隊(duì),還有小小的讀書俱樂(lè)部。而在夢(mèng)境與幻想中,我難道沒(méi)有一次又一次地與他重逢?
然而,這不正是童年——特別是幸福童年——的通病嗎?幸福的孩子總是對(duì)自己的幸福習(xí)以為常,猶如河中的魚兒總是對(duì)河中的流水習(xí)以為常一樣;他們只管前行。我的童年一度被戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)打亂,但在仁愛(ài)的呵護(hù)下,我又重獲新生。我因此而感到幸福、快樂(lè),并在幸福中自在成長(zhǎng)。凱先生為我打開(kāi)了一扇大門,引導(dǎo)我走進(jìn)新世界,我對(duì)其中蘊(yùn)含的無(wú)限奧妙求知若渴,于是匆匆穿過(guò)大門,直向前沖去。
Remembering Mr. K 凱先生的葬禮
The retired teachers sat on their pews to somber organ music. Wizened21), gray-haired, they rose, one by one, moving slowly, to speak with affection and humor of a man who was known as much for his aesthetic sensibilities and practical jokes and friendship as he was for his devotion to the art of teaching and to his students. Shared memories echoed inside the gilded columbarium22) like some ode to beauty itself …
He was a talented organist … loved driving cross-country … Spanish architecture and colonial history of California …created beautiful stained glass objects...
To all this I would say yet that his greatest talent is empathy: He intuited how one felt and, like a bodhisattva23), performed his magic to assuage24) grief.
在管風(fēng)琴莊重的演奏聲中,退休教師們安坐在教堂的長(zhǎng)椅上。形容枯槁、白發(fā)蒼蒼的他們一個(gè)個(gè)站起身,緩緩地走上前去,感情充沛而又不失幽默地講述著一位逝者的故事:他既以獻(xiàn)身于教育藝術(shù)和他的學(xué)生而著稱,又以審美觸覺(jué)敏銳、言談?dòng)哪?、為人友善而聞名。共同的記憶在鍍金的骨灰壁龕里回蕩?猶如一曲美的贊歌……
他是一位有才華的管風(fēng)琴家……喜歡駕車越野……喜愛(ài)西班牙風(fēng)格建筑以及加州殖民史……會(huì)制作漂亮的彩色玻璃物品……
除了這一切,我還想說(shuō),他最出眾的才華是他的善解人意和感同身受般的待人之心:憑著直覺(jué),他能體會(huì)到別人的感受,然后,像菩薩一樣,施展法力替別人解難排憂。
Sailing Toward the Unknown 念師恩,走人生
Suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river … The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound25) by exciting stories.(編者注:這里選自童話《柳林風(fēng)聲》,詳見(jiàn)注釋6)
I did not fully appreciate the beauty of Grahame’s words. Yet even then, I knew that it had something to do with me—who, like Mole, albeit against my will, also left my insulated world and sailed toward the unknown.
A charmed life is one that goes down a river not knowing what’s behind the bend, but confident nevertheless that gracious strangers will be there in one form or another to aid and abet and be a guide through turbulent waters. Charmed was how I felt when I first came here and more than three decades later, charmed is how I feel today—and much of that, I will acknowledge, has to do with Mr. K.
不知不覺(jué)間,他來(lái)到一條河水充盈的河畔。……鼴鼠像著了魔一般,看得如癡如醉。他沿著河畔一路小跑,就像一個(gè)人小時(shí)候被大人的故事迷住了,因而緊跟在大人身邊一路小跑一樣。
那時(shí),我還不能完全領(lǐng)略格雷厄姆的文字之美。然而,即使在那時(shí),我也知道文中所述與我有著某種聯(lián)系。我,和鼴鼠一樣,盡管情非所愿,卻也離開(kāi)了我那封閉的環(huán)境,駛向一片未知的世界。
一個(gè)充滿魅力的人生猶如順河漂流,你永遠(yuǎn)不知道彎道那邊會(huì)有什么等著你,但你總是相信會(huì)有一些好心人在那里,以這樣或那樣的方式來(lái)幫助你,激勵(lì)你,引導(dǎo)你穿越激流。我初來(lái)乍到時(shí),感受到的就是這種魅力;三十多年后的今天,我感受到的依然是這種魅力——而在很大程度上,我必須承認(rèn),這與凱先生有莫大的關(guān)系。
1. demise [dI5maIz] n. 死亡
2. bereft [bI5reft] adj. 喪失親人的,忍受失去所愛(ài)之人而痛苦的
3. wiggle [5wIgl] vi. 擺動(dòng)
4. plenary [5pli:nErI] adj. 無(wú)限的,充分的
5. annunciate [E5nQnFIeIt] vt. 宣告
6. Kenneth Grahame:肯尼斯·格雷厄姆(1859～1932),童話作家,生于英國(guó)蘇格蘭的愛(ài)丁堡,代表作有《柳林風(fēng)聲》(The Wind in the Willow)、《黃金時(shí)代》(The Golden Age)、《做夢(mèng)的日子》(Dream Days)等。其中,《柳林風(fēng)聲》是一部經(jīng)典的童話,講述的是發(fā)生在蟾蜍、鼴鼠、河鼠和老獾等大森林動(dòng)物們身上的故事,是一部關(guān)于友誼和家園的溫情之作。
7. pore over:用心閱讀,細(xì)心研究
8. pristine [5prIstaIn] adj. 干凈的,嶄新的
9. indelibly [In5delIblI] adv. 不可磨滅地,難忘地
10. bearing [5bZErIN] n. 相對(duì)位置,方位
11. succinct [sEk5sINkt] adj. 簡(jiǎn)潔的,簡(jiǎn)明扼要的
12. verdant [5vE:dEnt] adj. 青翠的
13. scamper [5skAmpE] vi. 奔跑
14. ecstatically [eks5tAtIklI] adv. 入迷地,欣喜若狂地
15. backdrop [5bAkdrRp] n. 背景,背景幕
16. that’s that:用于表示談?wù)摗⒄{(diào)查、進(jìn)展等的結(jié)束
17. whimsical [5(h)wImzIkEl] adj. 因心血來(lái)潮或異想天開(kāi)而作決定的
18. couch [kautF] vt. (用語(yǔ)言)表達(dá)
19. wistfully [5wIstfulI] adv. 愁悶地,憂郁地
20. revery [5revErI] n. 空想,幻想
21. wizened [5wIznd] adj. 消瘦的,枯槁的
22. columbarium [7kClEm5bZErIEm] n. 骨灰盒壁龕
23. bodhisattva [7bRdI5sB:tvE] n. 菩薩
24. assuage [E5sweIdV] vt. 使緩和,使緩解
25. spellbound [5spelbaJnd] adj. 著迷的,出神的
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