Monday, September 1, was a clear, bright and windy day. We the foreign teachers gathered in the Foreign Affairs Office at 2:15 in preparation for the special opening ceremony to be held at 2:30. We were each given a little plastic stool, and we walked together to the playing field where we were to sit in one front corner. John, The Foreign Affairs Officer, said to me, “Julia, you must sit on the stage with the other speakers.” So, off I went to climb the stairs to the stage set on one long side of the field. I took my place behind the long desk, on a chair with a back, between two people who spoke no English. They greeted me with smiles.
The students began to come to the field, carrying their little plastic stools. They assembled in lines and rows, packed very close together. All the students wear the same uniform, lavender pants with gold stripe down the leg, matching long sleeved jackets with the stripe on the sleeve. (We might call these “warm up suits” in the USA.) The boys wear blue polo shirts, and the girls wear white blouses with wide round collars edged in brown and white checked fabric. The boys have very short hair, almost a “buzz cut” as we used to say. The girls also have short hair, but wear bangs. The haircuts are specified as part of the uniform. One Chinese teacher told our colleague, “It’s so the boys don’t fall in love with the girls.”
I looked out at the six thousand students, all with short black hair, all wearing the same uniform. At a command from the person in charge, all turned and stooped to set the stools down, staying in that position until the next command, which allowed them all to sit. The front row students, presumably the best ones, wore red sashes with gold lettering. These were somewhat in charge of their lines. I thought of a time I went to Stone Mountain, Georgia for an evening concert. There were thousands of people there, spreading blankets and lawn chairs on the ground. No one gave any commands, but people formed rows and aisles anyway.

I had to listen carefully as the ceremony started, and people who were introduced, stood up and smiled. Just as I wondered, “What if I don’t recognize my name?” I heard my name, Julia, and stood up and smiled. After everyone was introduced, the speeches began. When people applauded, I clapped too, though I had no idea what had been said. Was I imagining it, or can you actually tell from the sound of applause whether it is simply polite, or heart felt? I learned that I was sitting next to the Head of School who gave a long speech. During this speech I looked out again at the crowd, amazed how they all looked alike, and how this was by design. As I kept looking though, I noticed the one distinct difference between the students, the one part of personal expression, their shoes. Red, blue, neon green, orange, black, white, Nikes, Converse, athletic shoes, stylish shoes, traditional shoes.
After several speeches, I was called to give mine. John was there—I hadn’t noticed when he arrived— on the stage, and we each took a microphone. We had practiced together, line by line, so I had to stick strictly to the written speech so he could translate. The wind was blowing the paper I held in one hand, while I held the microphone in the other. I was wearing my white dress with blue lotus flowers, and my blue hat to protect my face from the sun. I considered briefly taking off my hat and waving it, but my hands were full. I was afraid the wind would blow my hat away, but it didn’t. The speech was about 2 minutes, about 5 with translation added. I spoke s—l—-o—w—l—y, and John spoke in Mandarin fast.
We received applause, returned to our seats, and the ceremony went on. Given the context, I could guess that everyone said wonderful things about our school, and gave a pep talk about all doing our best. “Happy to be here, welcome to another great year….” What else is ever said at such events? At the end, an assistant principal spoke with me, praising the speech, and starting a conversation. I felt that day, that we were off to a good start.

Read the speech in the next post.