The fifth part of the autobiographical novel of Dr. Tzemin, tells us about the old hen painting that proved him. A Different Truths exclusive.

On the first day of kindergarten, I finally met the first teacher in my life, Ms. Huang, who was a modest and warm lady, careful and considerate. When she found out that I was the only child who didn’t cry among the piles of crying babies. When after lessons for the day, she said to my mother with joy, “Zemin is a brave boy. He didn’t cry all day.”

She held me closer and seriously said to Teacher Huang: “He won’t cry, teacher.”

This was the first time I was praised for not speaking – everyone got lucky sometimes. However, it really drove my mother to feel nuts. She held me closer and seriously said to Teacher Huang: “He won’t cry, teacher.”

“How strong a child, I have taught kindergartens for over 20 years. I have never met such a great child, who never cries and even makes no noise.” Ms. Huang turned to me and gave me thumbs up.

“No, you misunderstood,” now my mom really panicked, “I mean he can’t talk.”

She put her both hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming and apologised to my mother, again and again.

Teacher Huang just acted like a child who had said wrong words. She put her both hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming and apologised to my mother, again and again.

“Sorry, I am really sorry, Zemin’s mom, I didn’t know that Zemin is dumb, I meant no harm.”

…kindergartens taught us to read, dance and sing, but I still had not many interactions with classmates, except during the drawing lessons.

Seeing that things were getting even worse; my mother seemed a little confused. She replied, “He is not dumb. He is just a child who doesn’t like to talk. Can you understand?” She quickly took me away, leaving that sorrowful and remorseful teacher alone.

Since then, every teacher and child in the kindergarten had heard that I had to spend a lot of time thinking about the truth of life every day, so they could slowly accept me as the “silent angel”, in this kindergarten. The best part was that Teacher Huang quickly understood the awkward expression of my mom a while ago. Throughout the year, kindergartens taught us to read, dance and sing, but I still had not many interactions with classmates, except during the drawing lessons.

Since this was a kindergarten belonging to the Catholic Church, the weekday teaching was very focused on field study and physical practice. It was often the teacher who took the children to go hiking or sketch outdoors. Almost every time, Ms. Huang would take my hand especially, mainly because she was afraid that I would lose or wander away, but this warmth had always existed in my heart for many years.

I laughed heartily only when drawing in a painting class.

On the other hand, in addition to continuing to have a strong interest in painting, I laughed heartily only when drawing in a painting class. At other times, in order not to live up to the essence of being a philosopher, I spent all my time thinking about my life.

But what Ms. Huang did not understand was why there was always an old hen in my paintings.

But what Ms. Huang did not understand was why there was always an old hen in my paintings. I could easily draw hens in various poses. And why I was always at my wits’ end about a cock?

Time passed quickly, the day before the kindergarten graduated, my mother came to take me home.

Teacher Huang couldn’t wait to pull her hand: “Mama, Tzemin’s mom, do you know Tzemin’s painting was selected as the first in the graduation exhibition.”

My mother was taken aback, trying to find a way to stabilise herself, her eyes, wide with wonder, focused on Ms. Huang’s face, “What! Is what you said true? Oh, my God.” Mom seemed to be in a state of fainting.

“Of course, it is true, dear mama. How could I lie to you? Dress him up tomorrow, please. He must go to the stage to receive the first award.”

My mother had recovered from her surprise at that moment.

My mother had recovered from her surprise at that moment. She turned and held me tightly, muttering, “I knew, I knew, I knew that Tzemin is not an idiot, how can my boy be an idiot, he is not. Tzemin’s painting won first place.”

“We all knew that Mrs. Tsai, Tzemin, of course, is certainly not an idiot. He is very good.” Ms. Huang patted my mother’s shoulders and said comfortably, “You and Tzemin really suffered a lot.”

Before that, I really had never seen two women could hold each other and cry like this, and never understood how the first place could be so sad!

Since my painting had no name, my teacher privately helped me with a name, “The old hen”.

Since my painting had no name, my teacher privately helped me with a name, “The old hen”. At the graduation ceremony, after I went to the stage to receive the award, and I returned home to my family, all were filled with exultation that my kindergarten career had gloriously ended.

Even if I didn’t notice it at all, in fact, all the children came to the stage to receive the award. This was the first ‘first place’ in my life. It is also the happiest day for my mother since I was born.

My mom hung my painting, “The old hen” on the kitchen wall and cried every time she looked at it. Every day, early morning, when the sun shined in from the light-transparent window on the roof of our old-squat-style building, it just hit the painting, straight, and let the old hen look dazzling and vivid!

…in my mother’s mind it was not just an old-hen painting, but a piece of evidence on paper that proved that I was not an idiot.

Well, of course, in my mother’s mind it was not just an old-hen painting, but a piece of evidence on paper that proved that I was not an idiot.

A few years later, my dear old hen died naturally. With a bereaved and inconsolable sad feeling, I buried the old hen in the field outside, in the backyard of our house. To this day, under the gloom of the setting sun, every time I walked around there, I still couldn’t calm down for a long time.

Note: In this article, I recall, emotionally, the kindergarten teacher, who took good care of me, my mother and my old hen.

Photos from the Internet