A Heart for Freedom Read Online Free PDF Page B

sudden glory, but after that long stare from the teacher, I understood the meaning of “teaching with the eyes.” In his gaze, there was nurturing, hope, praise, delight, and expectation—and it planted an aspiration deep in my heart.
    That night, after dinner, I took advantage of the general chaos in the house to sneak into my parents’ bedroom and latch the door behind me. Kneeling in front of the big mirror on the wall, I closed my eyes, pressed my hands together, and prayed, “Dear God, please help me to be an extraordinary child. Thank you!” I had never been to church, or seen a Bible, or prayed before; I had only read the word God in a foreign novel. We had been taught religion was poison, but the people in the novel prayed, so I decided to try it too. I was a little embarrassed. When I was done, I saw in the mirror the face of a pious and sincere child.
    That year, I put a lot of effort into making other people treat me as a “first-class person who can be taught with the eyes.” By working hard, I earned the Three Merits Student honor, which was awarded to students who excelled in academics, athletics, and morals. I also made it into a Jenza class—the class for the best and the brightest—which was the top-level junior high school class, in which the best students from the entire county were gathered into one school.
    The Three Merits Student award brought surprising attention to our army compound. Each year before the winter break, the teachers and students marched in a parade, banging on drums and gongs, while the Three Merits Student award certificates were brought into the military unit’s courtyard and pasted on the wall of the little convenience store. The year I got the certificate, all the military aunts and uncles came to have a look, clicking their tongues in admiration, praising Old Chai’s family for having a kid with potential. I didn’t think it was anything special, but there were some kids in the army compound who used to bully me, and none of them got the award, so I did feel quietly vindicated.
    In the crowd, I saw my dad’s face redden happily with pride as he muttered, “Ayah, it’s all just a kid thing, no big deal.” He searched the sea of faces for me and said loudly, “Ling Ling, where have you gone off to? Come home and eat!”
    When his eyes met mine, I saw that the ferocity I had feared so much as a girl was gone, replaced by tenderness, pride, and respect for my having outstripped his expectations. On our way home, for the first time I was not walking behind my dad but side by side with him, and in my heart I let out a long sigh of relief.
     
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    By the beginning of the 1980s, the publishing world in China was filled with new vitality. The days of printing only Selected Works of Chairman Mao were over, and many publications appeared to encourage individuality, which was a departure from those that talked only about the Party line. I began to read with so much excitement that I forgot about sleeping and eating.
    At a young age, I was impressed by Thomas Edison. His inventions and devotion to discovery made a big impression on my mind. As I grew into a young woman, I began to relate more and more to Madame Curie. I was inspired by the resolute and diligent exploration and experimentation that had led her to achieve extraordinary results, including two Nobel Prizes. Before long I was studying day and night, hoping to emulate Madame Curie’s success.
    The first day of ninth-grade physics, I encountered someone who would change my thinking about science and politics forever. As the students settled into their seats, a middle-aged woman walked into the classroom. She stopped at the lectern and looked at us with a concentrated, keen gaze before she spoke, her angular face filled with resolution. She had a robust, vigorous air, entirely different from any other teacher I knew. Her name was Mrs. Qian, and she soon became my best friend, mentor, and enlightened instructor. It