People in America: My Uncle Don Quixote

"You Americans call this a high school?" Levi pointed to the scenery outside the car window, then turned to look at Don Quixote smoking. "If you hadn't told me, I would have thought it was some kind of military base."

In Li Wei's limited memories of American high schools, they must all be like those in "High School Musical" or "Gossip Girl"—open campuses with lush green lawns and red brick and white tile roofs.

But now, what lay before him was a concrete fortress tightly surrounded by three-meter-high barbed wire. The top of the wire curled inward, seemingly to prevent anyone from climbing in—or out.

Besides the dilapidated "Franklin K. Lane High School" sign at the school gate, the most conspicuous things were the two NYPD (New York Police Department) police cars parked on the side of the road.

"But this is the only option for you in your current situation," Don Quixote exhaled a smoke ring, flicked the cigarette butt out the window, patted Levi on the shoulder, and said, "Let's go. This place is like dog shit, and I don't want to stay here any longer."

The two got out of the car and headed towards the main entrance.

If the exterior resembles a prison, then the process of entering it is even more so.

It was school time, and a long line had formed at the entrance. Li Wei approached and realized that everyone was going through security.

"drop--!"

A Black girl with dreadlocks in the front row was stopped.

"Open your bag!" a burly security guard roared. "You know the rules, Tanissa!"

"Fuck! I only brought a curling iron!" The girl named Tanissa grumbled as she reluctantly dumped the contents of her bag onto the table, including a crudely made folding comb.

"What is this?" The security guard picked up the comb, examined it, and threw it directly into the trash can. "The tip is too sharp, confiscated."

"That's my comb, you filthy bitch—"

"Next!"

After a simple registration process, the two were allowed to enter the teaching building.

As soon as I entered the corridor, a mixture of the smell of leaves, the stale smell of old mops, and the scent of cheap cologne hit me right in the head.

Most of the lockers on both sides of the corridor were sunken in, covered with layers of graffiti. Half of the light bulbs on the ceiling were broken, and the other half flickered weakly, emitting an annoying hissing sound.

"Hey, do you grow leaves on American school campuses?" Levi asked, noticing the curious looks around him. "Is this high school absolutely necessary for me?"

The surrounding gazes were filled with curiosity and amazement, with most of them coming from Latino and Black female students—these two groups of students made up the majority of the school's ethnic composition—and a small number of gazes coming from male students with ill intentions.

They spoke Spanish with accents or street slang mixed with local dialect, pointing at Livy and Don Quixote, and bursting into laughter every now and then.

"There's nothing I can do about it," Don Quixote muttered, "that's just how the laws are in New York State."

After navigating several twists and turns, the two finally found the administrative office in a corner on the first floor.

Pushing open the door, Li Wei gained a deeper understanding of the demise of the "American education system."

The desk was piled high with unprocessed file boxes, and even half a pizza box. The receptionist was a middle-aged white woman who looked like she had just woken up; her four-layered chin was accentuated by an extremely thin necklace, and her buttocks looked as big as planets.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't even lift her eyelids, her eyes still glued to the candy-crushing puzzle game on the computer screen.

"I am Don Quixote Cervantes... This is... Ms. Palmer, this is my nephew Levy, who has just arrived in New York," Don Quixote handed over the prepared documents, "I'm here to transfer him to another school."

Ms. Palmer slowly took it, typing like a sloth on the keyboard while muttering, "Brooklyn...foreigner...no prior academic record. Here, this is your timetable; school starts in a month."

The printer let out a terrible scream, as if it were about to fall apart.

She didn't even ask Li Wei what classes he had to attend before printing out his class schedule.

Li Wei took the paper, and just one glance sent his blood pressure soaring.

"ESL beginner English? English is my native language! And the basic algebra I learned in junior high in China was much more advanced than this," Li Wei slammed his timetable on the table. "And why do I have a carpentry basics course? I didn't come here to be a construction worker!"

"So what do you want?" Ms. Palmer asked without looking up from her utterly silly candy-matching game. "Horseback riding or sailing?"

"I want to take AP courses," Li Wei emphasized. "I want AP Calculus BC, AP Physics C, and AP Macroeconomics."

In the American high school system, good universities, especially Ivy League universities, require students to take at least 4-6 or more AP courses to demonstrate their STEM skills or academic ability.

If Li Wei only managed to get a high school diploma without AP course transcripts, he would basically only be able to attend some of the worst community colleges, which would be no different from not attending at all, and he would only be able to do the most basic manual labor jobs after graduation.

In AP courses, Calculus is also divided into two levels: AB and BC. If Li Wei wants to go to Yale, he must take the more difficult and higher-credit BC class to accumulate enough credits.

The office was silent for a second, then several teachers who had been watching the commotion burst into undisguised laughter.

"AP Calculus BC Class?"

Ms. Palmer seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world.

She took off her glasses and looked Li Wei up and down: "Kid, do you know where this is? This is Brooklyn. Our school can't even get enough students for a BC class, we only have AB classes."

"And we don't have any extra funding," another male teacher with a receding hairline interjected, holding a mug emblazoned with "Best Teacher." "The physics textbook is ten years old, and those little rascals stole and sold all the lab equipment. You want to teach AP Physics C? Are we supposed to do experiments on the blackboard?"

Li Wei took a deep breath.

"Then you can at least register me, right?" he said. "I'll learn these two courses on my own."

In the American education system, AP courses and exams are completely independent; students can study independently and then register for the AP exams in May of the following year.

However, this would require Ms. Palmer to create a new exam code specifically for Levi, and she would also need to order exam papers and arrange invigilators for him, which would be quite a hassle.

She frowned, about to refuse.

"Say yes!"

Don Quixote suddenly shouted and slammed his hand on the counter, making the half-eaten pizza jump.

His height of over 1.8 meters, coupled with his fierce eyes that showed signs of chronic sleep deprivation, made Ms. Palmer feel a chill for a moment.

"Fine, fine, shut up," she typed furiously on the keyboard. "AP Calculus BC... but we can only give you AB courses. AP Physics 1... the textbook is in the basement storage room, go find it yourself."

...

Ten minutes later, the two men carried a series of textbooks out of the school from the dark, moldy basement storeroom and returned to their car.

"Thanks, Uncle," Li Wei said, looking at the dusty book in his hand. "You spoke up for me earlier."

"Since you don't believe in superstitions," Don Quixote lit another cigarette, forcing himself to stay awake, "then I'll show you the cruelty of the American education system."

As he spoke, he pulled something out of his waist and handed it to Li Wei.

"What's this?" Li Wei took it and saw it was a switchblade made of hard plastic. "You gave this to me?"

"Dream on," Don Quixote started the vehicle. "This little gadget I used for self-defense, I could sell it to you for $100, it's not unreasonable. I just took it through security, their metal detectors can't detect plastic stuff."

"Don't look at me like that, kid," he said, slamming his car into traffic and nearly hitting a taxi that was honking. "When you're in jail, don't cause trouble, don't make friends, and don't be kind to Asians or Chinese people. Focus on your studies and keep a low profile."

After leaving school, Li Wei asked Don Quixote to take him back to the Upper East Side, a place the system called the "Noble Courtyard".

Since it was still early, Li Wei decided to try his luck at the Dolores boutique recommended by the middle-aged lady.