You're good at math, right?

Both Asian and non-Asian classmates have said that to me, throwing it out in casual conversation as we're walking to class.

Actually, I'm just OK at math. But it bothers me that they seem to think I'd be a math whiz just because I'm Chinese American and there's a common idea that Chinese -- and Asians in general -- are good at math. I feel like people have certain assumptions about me simply because when they look at me, they see "Chinese" or "Asian."

The stereotype goes beyond math skills. Asians are called the "model minority" because they're the minority group that people say succeeds best in America; according to the stereotype, we work hard, stay quiet and don't cause trouble. An Asian student is valedictorian? No big surprise. According to the stereotype, we're both disciplined and naturally smart.

Ancient culture respected scholars

It's not like the stereotype comes from nowhere. In Chinese culture, for example, education and discipline are very important. Throughout Chinese history, scholars were the most respected people in society.

Martial arts, tai chi and Confucian principles also teach discipline, so it makes sense that discipline plays an important part in the culture.

That might sound good to you, but the flip side is that we're also considered sexless (or at least the guys are), socially inept and easily picked on. And even the "good" parts of the stereotype bug me, because I feel like people look at me and automatically see someone I'm not.

Pressure at home, too

Now, I'm not gonna front. In some ways I do fit this stereotype, at least the academic part. I go to Bronx Science, a competitive school that you have to take a test to get into; more than 40 percent of my school is Asian.

But in other ways I feel like the stereotype isn't me, and even if I wanted to be that way and tried, I couldn't do it. I'm also mad at the reality behind the stereotype; at home, I get the kind of pressure to do well – which really is common in Asian families. I feel like both outsiders and my own parents expect me to be the "model minority."

I had my biggest rebellion against it a few years ago, when I felt that I couldn't fulfill my parent's expectations, Asian people's expectations, or anyone else's expectations. They all seemed to expect me to be an "A" student, to always be quiet and obedient, and that just wasn't me.

More American than Chinese

Ever since I can remember, I haven't matched people's expectations. I'm a third generation Asian American -- this means it was my great-grandparents who immigrated here — and in lots of ways I feel more American than Chinese. I don't speak Chinese. I like basketball. I listen mostly to hip-hop, reggae, blues, rock and r&b. I hate going to school. I curse like a sailor. I'm interested in the latest sneakers coming out. I'm your typical New Yorker.

Back when I was younger, I wasn't treated warmly by most of the Asian kids. You see, my area of Flushing, Queens, is mostly first- and second-generation Koreans and some Chinese; most of the kids' parents were immigrants, and some of them were, too. I didn't understand Chinese and I didn't speak with an accent, so they often accused me of trying to be white. Whether it was at school or in the neighborhood playing ball, they made it clear that I didn't fit in. I did have friends, who varied in race, but I was a lunchroom table-hopper, trying out different groups to see if I fit in.

X-Men's Wolverine was my hero

At home, my parents expected me to be a good student. An 80 on a test wasn't good enough. It sometimes seemed that they wanted me to exceed some unsaid limit. For the most part this didn't bother me. I did my work in school and didn't cause too many problems. Up to 7th grade I was relatively obedient and performed well throughout the year.

Still, my heroes were loner rebel characters like Han Solo, a leader of the Rebel Alliance in the Star Wars trilogy, and Wolverine and X-men. Wolverine is hotheaded, and doesn't always listen to Cyclops or Professor X, and always seems pissed off and ready to fight because he was either misunderstood or treated wrongly. I looked up to these rebels, who were much more fascinating than the do-gooder, wholesome characters like Superman.

It wasn't until 8th grade that I started acting up in class. I wasn't doing as well in school, and my teachers started sending notes home to my parents. They got mad and yelled at me, so then I'd yell back. I felt that my parents were simply putting more pressure on me rather than hearing me out.

Not that I knew what exactly was bothering me; I just felt 8th grade was a waste of time. I was disruptive and made inappropriate comments in my classes and to teachers. At the time, I felt that I was funny, even if my classmates were telling me to shut up.

Mad at parents, mad at self

But though part of me was having fun, part of me was also angry. I didn't want to be obedient and quiet. I was angry with my parents, who I felt were blaming me without acknowledging their own contributions to my behavior. But I was angry with myself, too, because I had done well the year before and I couldn't see why I was doing poorly this year.

I felt that nobody understood me and worse, no one cared to try; they all had their pre-formed ideas about who I was supposed to be: a good, hardworking, quiet Asian kid. A lot of the other Asian kids around me were like that, though some had more attitude than me, going the gangster route to be tough.

Sometimes my parents held up my friends as examples, telling me: "You should be doing as well as he does." All my Asian friends' parents did that, so I didn't feel singled out, but I didn't like my parents comparing me to my friends because we are different people.

A new world of thought

The worse I felt, the angrier I got, and the more trouble I got in. I was acting out and not handling my work, and my parents were furious over the letters they were getting about my cutting. I wasn't happy with myself, but my parents yelling at me so much didn't exactly motivate me to make the right choices.

I felt that I didn't fit in at home or at school, but I didn't know why or how to change the situation. Then I started thinking about how I fit into society, when in the summer after 8th grade I picked up a book called Eastern Standard Time, which is about Asian culture in America.

The book brought to my attention the "model minority" stereotype and opened up a world of thought for me. The book said that the image of a studious, disciplined achiever was something that grew out of Asian values and suggested it's both positive and negative.

Rethinking expectations

At first, I thought I liked the idea of the "model minority" stereotype, since it meant that society expected me to succeed; I wasn't feeling like anyone expected me to succeed after my miserable time in 8th grade.

Yet when I gave it more thought, I realized how bad the stereotype was. It put down other minorities by implying that none work harder than Asians. And it labeled me as something I wasn't: a focused overachiever that doesn't rock the boat.

Now I understood why so many Asians I knew were stressed about grades. The book helped me think about the expectations I was resisting at school and at home; it was like people expected me to get good grades and be obedient just because I was Asian—not because I was Jordan. It made me angry at the stereotype, and a little less angry with myself.

Nearly suspended

Still, I entered high school with the same rebellious attitude I'd had through junior high. I was loud and obnoxious in my classes and was almost suspended for throwing a book at my freshman year global history teacher (though really I was passing it to its owner across the room—through the air).

Even though I avoided suspension, I was still doing badly in school. In April 2001, I was diagnosed with a mild case of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD); it's a learning problem that causes the person to be easily distracted, and makes it harder for him or her to concentrate.

Finding out about my ADD made me feel like I stood out even more, especially since I was Asian. How stereotypically Asian could I be when I had to take medication just to sit quietly in class and learn?

But the medication helped me focus, and I didn't feel the same impulse to blurt out wise-ass comment in class. I felt more in control, and in a way, that made me less angry.

Friends I can chill with

Since I wasn't as obnoxious in class, things got cooler with my classmates. Even though I wasn't the "model minority" child my parents wanted me to be—and I was still mad at them for expecting me to be that way—I wasn't feeling so badly about myself.

And in 9th grade, I found the group of people I'm most cool with and comfortable around, who happen to be mostly Black and Hispanic. I do have Asian and White friends, but race isn't an issue for me in making friends; it's about personality.

Two of my best friends—Ian and Ptah, who are Black—were more focused that I was about school, which was a good influence on me when I was angry over yet another failed test. I related to them because they know how to balance doing well in school with being able to get down, chill and party on the side. I didn't have to choose between the total rebel and the total goody two-shoes. I could be a balance of both, which I think is how I naturally am.

Stereotypes get in the way

Ptah told me once that he thinks the stereotypes Asians have to deal with aren't bad. He feels the stereotypes Blacks are subjected to, like being thugs and drug dealers, are much worse. I understand his point of view.

But I still don't like being boxed in by a list of assumptions that don't fit me, which is what the model minority stereotype of Asians does.

The problem with any stereotype is that it gets in the way of people seeing you as an individual. Stereotypes are like an outside skin that people should learn to see past.

People are deep and complex. Everyone has a story to tell, something different to say. Everyone wants recognition, and labeling people with stereotypes makes the individual disappear.

Calmer at home

When people say stuff to me about Asians being good at math or Asians being quiet, I tell them my experience. Sometimes, though, I just let it slide because I don't feel like arguing.

In some ways I feel like I have escaped the stereotype. I am happier being myself, kicking it with people who accept that I am going down my won path—which does include college, even is it's not the Ivy League as my mom was hoping. Things are calmer at home, which is a relief.

It's funny how easy it is to stereotype each other when most of us want to be seen as the individuals we are. I'm Jordan: the loud, obnoxious, college-bound Asian-American kid from Flushing, Queens, who has something to say.

Reprinted with permission from Represent, Copyright 2004 by Youth Communication/New York Center, Inc. (www.youthcomm.org)