Four years of not fitting in
Growing up, college was always on my radar. It wasn’t a matter of “if,” it was a matter of “where.” As I was considering different colleges, I knew didn’t want to be too close to home. Iowa City seemed like the perfect fit for me. It was three hours away from Western Iowa and I could travel on the interstate for much of the way.
I chose the University of Iowa for its diversity and gorgeous campus. The downtown area is right next to campus and in the early 90s, Old Capitol Mall was a thriving mall steps from campus.
When I visited the campus, I saw a diverse array of students streaming past the Old Capitol Building in the middle of campus and thought, “This is the place for me.”
When I think back to my college experience, there are so many facets of the four years I lived in Iowa City. After many years of reflection, I’ve been able to sum up my thoughts and feelings.
Iowa City is a great community full of wonderful people. The University of Iowa is a fine, collegiate school. I spent my years at the School of Journalism, College of Education, and the School of Art. I worked part-time at the childcare center at Mark Twain Elementary School and at Subway in the pedestrian mall downtown and Coralville. I met many people along the way, but I still feel I lacked deep connections.
I arrived for my freshman year in 1993 a week early to go through Rush. I wanted to join a sorority. The idea of a sorority was appealing to me. It meant a built-in social group and leadership possibilities. My mom had been a member of a sorority when she attended college in Texas and loved it. She met many friends and is still in contact with some of them today. I went into the process with an open mind hoping to make lifelong friends.
Rush was a long process. We rode on city buses and walked from sorority house to sorority house. We tried to stay cool in the heat and tried to remain looking nice wearing each of the three days’ “recommended attire.” On the last day, we were wearing little black dresses. I liked many of the houses I visited including the same house as my mom. If I joined that house, I would be a “legacy.” I knew it was important to my mom to join a sorority and I knew it would mean a lot to her if I chose hers. In the end, I wrote down her sorority as my first choice and I was given a bid for Bid Day.
During this time, my freshman-year roommate moved into our third-floor dorm room at Hillcrest Hall. Hillcrest served as military housing during World War II. It is an old, sprawling building with a dome in the middle of the intersecting hallways on the top floor. Boys on one side of the rotunda and girls on the other.
My roommate and I had been best friends all through high school even after she moved away to Eastern Iowa during our sophomore year. We were both so excited to be at college and to be together every day. We loved having so much independence in a new place. That summer, we had spent hours on the phone planning for the décor of our dorm room. Our motif was teal and pink, and we added posters of tropical fish from a poster store at Old Capitol Mall as the school year went on.
My roommate and I loved our new surroundings. We were very social and introduced ourselves to girls and guys on our floor. We were instant friends with girls that lived next door and we spent our weekends together hanging out, ordering pizza, going to the bars, and making “jungle juice” in a trash can for all our friends.
At the same time, I was trying to become acclimated to Greek life. There were weekly meetings and house dinners to attend plus, philanthropic events, social mixers, and formal dances.
I enjoyed living on the west side of the river. Our dorm room had a view of the Iowa River. We were close to The Field House and Kinnick Stadium. However, not many new pledges from my house lived on the west side. The two girls in Hillcrest unpledged after one semester. My sorority house was far from my dorm, and I needed to get a ride from one of the sisters to attend mandatory events. It was tough to leave my dorm friends and even tougher to know what I missed while I was gone.
I continued to split my time between dorm life and sorority life. My roommate very kindly helped me get ready for social events by letting me borrow her clothing, jewelry, and makeup. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I felt torn. I liked going to my sorority house’s events and being part of something, but I also liked being with my friends and new boyfriend at the dorm.
My boyfriend was also a Vietnamese adoptee and we both lived in the same dorm. We dated until the summer after my freshman year. I think he broke it off because he was much more studious than me. He had plans to become a doctor. Looking back, I think it was also because I wasn’t Asian enough for him. I didn’t know anything about the Vietnamese culture.
When the next year rolled around, I chose to live in a single dorm room on the ground level as I waited for a room to open in my sorority house. My friends from freshman year were still up on the third floor.
Time went on and things changed. I changed and my friends changed. After Christmas break, I moved into my sorority house. Sometimes living there felt uncomfortable. I knew the girls, but many of them felt like acquaintances. I would say hello as I came and went to class and work. I attended the meetings and served as Homecoming chair. I painted windows at downtown businesses for Homecoming. I took my turn to be a designated driver and I dressed up for formal dances. Looking back at the event photos taken by “Joe Photo,” I looked happy, but I wasn’t really.
I interacted with people at Greek events, on campus, and at work. There were people and friends around me, but I still felt alone. Looking back, I am not sure if it was because I was not around the right mix of people, or because I wasn’t comfortable with myself, or a combination of both. I tried dating some guys on campus but didn’t really hit it off with anyone. It was hard to see my sorority sisters receive a lavalier necklace from their boyfriends in fraternities.
I was invited to join a student group for Multicultural students by the university, but I didn’t attend any events. A Vietnamese friend asked if I wanted to join the Vietnamese Student Association, but I told her I would feel out of place because I didn’t speak Vietnamese.
If I didn’t have plans for the weekend, such as working, babysitting for two families I adored, or visiting friends, I did things on my own. I shopped, I visited my favorite Iowa City restaurants, and I watched movies.
During my time at the mall, I discovered a nail salon. This was a new experience for me. I could walk in and sit down and relax and get my nails done. During one of my visits, one of the nail technicians asked me about my ethnicity. I explained I was adopted from Vietnam as a baby during the war. I felt like each time I went in, I would hear hushed whispers as my story was told to other employees. “She’s Vietnamese. She’s one of the babies that was sent here at the end of the war,” they whispered. I could feel their eyes as they looked at me as I read a magazine. One time, an employee and I were casually chatting. She said to me, “You are fat because you eat too much cheese.” I was stunned. I had gained the freshman 15 and even a little more, but to have a stranger say that to me, really hurt.
When it was time for me to select a student teaching placement, I thought long and hard. I was ready to leave Iowa City. In a way, I felt like I had outgrown it. I didn’t need a roommate and I didn’t need to go out every weekend. My mom suggested I move back home, and student teach in Carroll. Many of my elementary teachers were still there and I didn’t like the idea of teaching at my old elementary school.
I decided to start a new chapter of my life on my own. I lived in a single apartment in West Des Moines and I student-taught second grade in Johnston. I didn’t find a teaching job right away after graduating. In 1997, teaching jobs were nearly impossible to land unless you had an inside connection. There were so many teaching applicants, unlike today. Instead of teaching full-time, I settled on being a teacher in a school-age room at a nearby daycare center. It wasn’t a career, but it solidified the fact I wanted to be an elementary school teacher. After six months, I applied to be a substitute teacher for Des Moines Public Schools. I had no idea what to expect. I had student-taught at a brand-new elementary school in a suburb and now I was walking into a different urban school every day.
Being a substitute teacher in an urban district was an unexpected delight. I spent most of my time subbing at a low-income school on the east side of Des Moines. The building was old and would soon be torn down, but I found “my people” at school. I found teachers who cared about me. They were welcoming, kind, and helpful. They cared about the students who needed an extra hug or two. Those students needed reassurance to try their best.
The next year, I was hired as an English as a Second Language teacher at that old brick building. It was full of faces I knew and some of the faces looked like mine. I knew this was where I fit in.
This is my 25th year of teaching ESL in Des Moines Public Schools. Growing up, no one at school looked like me and it made me feel out of place. I hope when I’m at school, students see me and see me as someone that looks a little like them. All my students are unique, and I want every one of them to know that is the best part of them.
The Iowa Writers’ Collaborative Columnists:
Thanks for sharing your story!
Your last line summarized your college experience-unique! I enjoyed reading about your time in Iowa City, and the dorm/sorority/work life. We lived there for 3 years (1972-1975) as young marrieds. Dan worked part time as a janitor at Hillcrest Dorm, (all men then), while in school. I worked 3 jobs, one as a teacher aide in an elementary school. On Saturdays, I took the 15 cent bus downtown, for fun. You found success when you found your perfect fit!