Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [44]
“Great things don’t come easily!” Teacher Xiao insisted, and I thought of his unattainable pirouettes. He didn’t seem to notice me much in the first two classes. But during our third class he began to try to find out what kind of boy I was. He discovered that I remembered every word he said, as long as I was interested. So he made sure that I would be interested in ballet, and quickly realized that I didn’t cope well with forceful shouting. Instead I responded well to gentle encouragement. He noticed every improvement I made and made sure I knew he’d noticed. Gently and gradually he dealt with my self-doubt and inadequacies with encouragement, and slowly moved me from the back of the class to the front.
We also started geography and history classes that year. We spent very little time on international geography and no one took this class seriously, but I wanted to know about the other countries, even though I had to hide my interest. Our history class also dwelt mainly on China, but here I found the rise and fall of the different Chinese dynasties fascinating, especially the Tang and Ming dynasties with their great art, crafts, medicine, and poetry.
We had a new female teacher, Chen Shulian, for our politics class but we studied only communist history and Mao’s political ideas. We were starved for knowledge from anywhere outside China. We learned a little about famous communists such as Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Stalin, but only as a backdrop to Mao’s great political achievements. Chen Shulian told us Mao “is leading us to the first stage of communism. Where there will be no starvation, no class distinction, no need to work long hours. Total equality. Everyone will work willingly and share equally. There will be no greed or laziness, no cheating or unfairness. We will have the best of everything. Total happiness!”
Chen Shulian’s vision gave us a reason to bear our present harsh conditions. She portrayed Chairman Mao as the greatest political strategist ever. It was uninspiring to me but I felt this was an important class if I wanted to become a true communist of tomorrow.
That year I met a new student, Chong Xiongjun, from one of the outer suburbs of Beijing. He was a tall boy, two years older than me. One day he asked me if I’d like to spend a Sunday with his family.
That afternoon I went to one of our political heads to ask permission to go to Chong Xiongjun’s home. He said that my parents would have to write a letter to the academy. The academy couldn’t take responsibility if something should happen to me, and even if my parents did give their permission, I would only be allowed to go once a month.
A reply from my parents took three weeks by the slow Chinese post. It arrived at last, written by my second brother, Cunyuan. My niang was happy that I would have a family close by to visit.
It turned out to be the best Sunday I’d had since leaving home. The Chongs made me feel like I was a member of their own family. Before I left, Xiongjun’s mother handed me a small bag of dates. “You will come back again, won’t you?” she asked, holding my hand tight.
I nodded in delight.
Along with the Bandit, Xiongjun became one of my closest friends. I formed a strong relationship with each member of the Chong family, and continued to visit them regularly throughout the next few years. They became my unofficial adopted family.
I went home to my own family in Qingdao for the Chinese New Year. This time I went with much improved grades. Chinese New Year had always been my favorite time of the year; now it was even more special because it was my one chance to see my family and friends again. My family could never visit me in Beijing. Just one return train