Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [18]
It was February 1970. I had just turned nine. For my first day at school, my niang dressed me up in my best clothes, a new black cotton quilted winter jacket, hand-me-down cotton pants with patches on the knees and the bottom, and a winter hat of cotton and synthetic fur. She also made me a schoolbag from dark blue cloth. My dia bought me two notebooks, one with pages full of squares for practicing Chinese characters, and another for math. He made me a wooden pencil box containing one pencil, a small knife, and a round rubber eraser. One of the most important requirements was the Little Red Book.
“This is a special day for the Li family!” my niang declared at breakfast. “The Li family has one more scholar today.” She tilted her chin at me. “We’re not sending you to school to play. I hope you’ll learn more than your dia and your brothers did.”
“Mmm,” our dia said. “It wouldn’t be too hard to do better than your dia.”
“Listen to your teachers, be a good student. Don’t lose face for the Li family. Make us proud,” said my niang.
I felt apprehensive. School meant that I had to wear shoes and conform to rules. Deep down, like my dia and my brothers, I wondered what use an education would be to a peasant boy destined to work in the fields. How would school help my family’s food shortages? I didn’t need education to be a good peasant.
The school we were supposed to go to was about a mile from our village, but there wasn’t a spare classroom there at first, so our village donated an abandoned, rundown house as a temporary classroom. The older boys told us it was haunted. I always wanted to peek through the window and see what was inside, but I chickened out each time.
Forty-five new kids from four villages were enrolled that year. When we arrived at our school, we all gathered outside. One teacher introduced the man beside her as our sports teacher and herself as our Chinese and math teacher. Her name was Song Ciayang.
“Students, this is a new beginning in your lives! I hope you will treasure this opportunity Chairman Mao gives you, study hard, and not let our great leader down.”
We didn’t learn anything that first session. We spent that entire first morning cleaning the floor and scrubbing the walls. Then, we were divided into several small groups and Teacher Song selected two captains. The girl captain was taller than nearly all of us in our area. The boy captain, Yang Ping, lived in the east part of our village. He was considered privileged because his grandfather had been in Mao’s Red Army. My eldest brother had once been kicked by Yang Ping’s father from behind during a fight. Yang Ping’s grandmother had apologized profusely, but I was determined not to make friends with Yang Ping. Anyway, by the time we had selected our own spot and placed our stools next to whoever we wanted to sit with, our first day of school was over.
Next morning we started at eight o’clock. Teacher Song called out our names one by one from her roll-book and we all obediently answered “Ze! “ Then she picked out the boys and mixed us in with the girls. I had chosen a spot at the back with two of my best friends. Now I was sandwiched between two girls I didn’t even know.
Teacher Song handed out our textbooks. “Students, welcome to your first official lesson.” She paused. “Do you know who this is?” She pointed to Mao’s picture.
“Chairman Mao, Chairman Mao!” we all shouted.
“Yes, our beloved Chairman Mao. Before we start our first class each day, we will bow to Chairman Mao and wish him a long, long life, because we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. He is our savior, our sun, our moon. Without him we’d still be in a dark world of suffering. We will also wish his successor, our second most important leader, our Vice-Chairman Lin Biao, good health, forever good health. Now, let’s all get up and bow to Chairman Mao with our hearts full of love and appreciation!”
We all stood up, took our hats off, bowed to Mao’s picture, and shouted, “Long, long live Chairman Mao! Vice-Chairman