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1/11TwoKindsAmyTanMymotherbelievedyoucouldbeanythingyouwantedtobeinAmerica.Youcouldopenarestaurant.Youcouldworkforthegovernmentandgetgoodretirement.Youcouldbuyahousewithalmostnomoneydown.Youcouldbecomerich.Youcouldbecomeinstantlyfamous.Ofcourse,youcanbeaprodigy,too,mymothertoldmewhenIwasnine.Youcanbebestanything.WhatdoesAuntieLindoknow?Herdaughter,sheisonlybesttricky.Americawaswhereallmymother'shopeslay.ShehadcometoSanFranciscoin1949afterlosingeverythinginChina:hermotherandfather,herhome,herfirsthusband,andtwodaughters,twinbabygirls.Butsheneverlookedbackwithregret.Thingscouldgetbetterinsomanyways.Wedidn'timmediatelypicktherightkindofprodigy.AtfirstmymotherthoughtIcouldbeaChineseShirleyTemple.We'dwatchShirley'soldmoviesonTVasthoughtheyweretrainingfilms.Mymotherwouldpokemyarmandsay,Nikan.Youwatch.AndIwouldseeShirleytappingherfeet,orsingingasailorsong,orpursingherlipsintoaveryroundOwhilesayingOh,mygoodness.Nikan,mymothersaid,asShirley'seyesfloodedwithtears.Youalreadyknowhow.Don'tneedtalentforcrying!SoonaftermymothergotthisideaaboutShirleyTemple,shetookmetothebeautytrainingschoolintheMissionDistrictandputmeinthehandsofastudentwhocouldbarelyholdthescissorswithoutshaking.Insteadofgettingbigfatcurls,Iemergedwithanunevenmassofcrinklyblackfuzz.Mymotherdraggedmeofftothebathroomandtriedtowetdownmyhair.YoulooklikeaNegroChinese,shelamented,asifIhaddonethisonpurpose.Theinstructorofthebeautytrainingschoolhadtolopoffthesesoggyclumpstomakemyhairevenagain.PeterPanisverypopularthesedaystheinstructorassuredmymother.Inowhadbadhairthelengthofaboy's,withcurlybangsthathungataslanttwoinchesabovemyeyebrows.Ilikedthehaircut,anditmademeactuallylookforwardtomyfuturefame.Infact,inthebeginningIwasjustasexcitedasmymother,maybeevenmoreso.I2/11picturedthisprodigypartofmeasmanydifferentimages,andItriedeachoneonforsize.Iwasadaintyballerinagirlstandingbythecurtain,waitingtohearthemusicthatwouldsendmefloatingonmytiptoes.IwasliketheChristchildliftedoutofthestrawmanger,cryingwithholyindignity.IwasCinderellasteppingfromherpumpkincarriagewithsparklycartoonmusicfillingtheair.InallofmyimaginingsIwasfilledwithasensethatIwouldsoonbecomeperfect:Mymotherandfatherwouldadoreme.Iwouldbebeyondreproach.Iwouldneverfeeltheneedtosulk,ortoclamorforanything.Butsometimestheprodigyinmebecameimpatient.Ifyoudon'thurryupandgetmeoutofhere,I'mdisappearingforgood,itwarned.Andthenyou'llalwaysbenothing.EverynightafterdinnermymotherandIwouldsitattheFormicatoppedkitchentable.Shewouldpresentnewtests,takingherexamplesfromstoriesofamazingchildrenthatshereadinRipley'sBelieveItorNotorGoodHousekeeping,Reader'sdigest,oranyofadozenothermagazinesshekeptinapileinourbathroom.Mymothergotthesemagazinesfrompeoplewhosehousesshecleaned.Andsinceshecleanedmanyhouseseachweek,wehadagreatassortment.Shewouldlookthroughthemall,searchingforstoriesaboutremarkablechildren.Thefirstnightshebroughtoutastoryaboutathree-year-oldboywhoknewthecapitalsofallthestatesandeventhemostoftheEuropeancountries.Ateacherwasquotedassayingthatthelittleboycouldalsopronouncethenamesoftheforeigncitiescorrectly.What'sthecapitalofFinland?”mymotheraskedme,lookingatthestory.AllIknewwasthecapitalofCalifornia,becauseSacramentowasthenameofthestreetwelivedoninChinatown.Nairobi!Iguessed,sayingthemostforeignwordIcouldthinkof.ShecheckedtoseeifthatmightbeonewaytopronounceHelsinkibeforeshowingmetheanswer.Thetestsgotharder-multiplyingnumbersinmyhead,findingthequeenofheartsinadeckofcards,tryingtostandonmyheadwithoutusingmyhands,predictingthedailytemperaturesinLosAngeles,NewYork,andLondon.OnenightIhadtolookatapagefromtheBibleforthreeminutesandthenreporteverythingIcouldremember.NowJehoshaphathadrichesandhonorinabundanceand...that'sallIremember,Ma,Isaid.Andafterseeing,onceagain,mymother'sdisappointedface,somethinginsidemebegantodie.Ihatedthetests,theraisedhopesandfailedexpectations.BeforegoingtobedthatnightIlookedinthemirrorabovethebathroomsink,andIsawonlymyfacestaringback-and3/11understoodthatitwouldalwaysbethisordinaryface-Ibegantocry.Suchasad,uglygirl!Imadehigh-pitchednoiseslikeacrazedanimal,tryingtoscratchoutthefaceinthemirror.AndthenIsawwhatseemedtobetheprodigysideofme-afaceIhadneverseenbefore.Ilookedatmyreflection,blinkingsothatIcouldseemoreclearly.Thegirlstaringbackatmewasangry,powerful.SheandIwerethesame.Ihadnewthoughts,willfulthoughts-orrather,thoughtsfilledwithlotsofwon'ts.Iwon'tletherchangeme,Ipromisedmyself.Iwon'tbewhatI'mnot.Sonowwhenmymotherpresentedhertests,Iperformedlistlessly,myheadproppedononearm.Ipretendedtobebored.AndIwas.IgotsoboredthatIstartedcountingthebellowsofthefoghornsoutonthebaywhilemymotherdrilledmeinotherareas.Thesoundwascomfortingandremindedmeofthecowjumpingoverthemoon.AndthenextdayIplayedagamewithmyself,seeingifmymotherwouldgiveuponmebeforeeightbellows.AfterawhileIusuallycountedonlyonebellow,maybetwoatmost.Atlastshewasbeginningtogiveuphope.Twoorthreemonthswentbywithoutanymentionofmybeingaprodigy.AndthenonedaymymotherwaswatchingtheEdSullivanShowonTV.TheTVwasoldandthesoundkeptshortingout.Everytimemymothergothalfw