One Pencil = 2 Meals, An Adventure Into the Past

Last night, Sunday, is a holy day for some but a homework-cramming day for me. I was already filled with guilt because I procrastinated during my weekend. I was going to get back to work after dinner when my dad decided to talk. And once he starts talking, he never runs out of saliva.

The topic last night was pencils.

   I asked, "Dad, how much did a pencil cost you when you were younger?"

   "Oh, a lot. And we only had one each, not plenty like you guys," he replies.

   I probe, "like how much? Worth a meal?"

Both of my parents come from Vietnam, a background much poorer than the one I live in today. The small rations my parents had as meals were not to be wasted. To use their savings to buy pencils for my dad’s brothers and sisters meant education was equally as important as food. The platform that holds both notions is a highly valued one. Here, education and school supplies are so accessible that kids under 15 rarely make the association that later on education will put food on the table.

My dad was poorer than my mom so I usually ask him questions because his answers have a greater impact on me. Besides, my dad likes to talk.

   My dad shakes his head, "noooo, a bit more than that. I'd say two meals."

   "Two meals for one pencil! That's so expensive! What kind of pencil was it? Was it colorful at least?"

   He begins to chuckle, showing his missing tooth in the middle. "Haha, I wish. No, they were the plain ones, the orange ones you guys had."

Two meals here have an approximate value of ten dollars in total. With ten dollars, I can easily buy at least one hundred wooden pencils.

   “Lead pencils, the mechanical ones, came around when Americans swooped into Vietnam. Those were even more expensive than the normal pencils,” my dad continues.

   “How much?” I ask, curious. My homework is nagging me in the back of my brain, insisting I go back to work. Too bad, this is valuable information, information I can’t get on the Internet. Homework will have to wait.

   “Hmmm, worth maybe 7 meals.”

   “Whut!”

   My dad started explaining, “yeah, they were worth a lot. Salespeople displayed mechanical pencils behind glass doors, as if they were selling gold. If you had one, you were considered extremely lucky. You had to keep your pencil on you at all times or else, another kid would steal it from you while you weren’t looking.”

Wow, I can’t even imagine having to keep my pencil at all times. Most of the time, I’m eager to lose my pencil. That way I can buy a brand new one for the price of close to nothing! My house is so full of pencils and pens lying everywhere that my dad constantly pulls fits about having to pick them up. My dad's story made me realize that not everyone has insignificant wooden pencils at an arm's reach. I am lucky to have an abundance of supplies that facilitate my learning experience.

How my grandparents and parents value education is much higher than the value I give it, especially on a Sunday night. But, after my dad finished talking, I went back to my homework, doubling my efforts because I know my parents did not get the same privilege to be so carefree when they were in school.