It's Thursday, mid-day, as I write this post and school officially began in our town on Monday. I know this to be a fact because Chris and I both attended the official school opening ceremony, which took place on the football field of my school's campus. It was attended by a Chairman of the Ministry of Education, Youth, and Sports, and officially viewed by hundreds of children under tents, on a rain soaked swatch of ground. It was also seen by a couple dozen adults in various roles via a stage overlooking said tents, including yours truly and Topher, officially invited to sit on the stage, in the very front seats, ten minutes prior to the ceremony's beginning.
(As a side note, Chris does not want to forgive me for jokingly gesturing him over to say hi to me at the exact moment that my school sub-director ushered me on stage. He was happily hanging out with the teachers at his school as I navigated the muddy field to greet my returning trainees and chit chat with my two sub-directors before I waved him over. In my defense, I was unaware that I was being led to the seats of prominence, and it proved to be a positive move, as the Chairman did thank the Peace Corps Volunteers in our town (i.e. myself and Chris) for our work educating the youth during his speech. So, we were luckily there to politely sampeah him in return after his thanks. You're welcome, Chris.)
Of course, I neglected to bring my camera on Monday, which proved tragic as I realized this was our first and last official school opening ceremony we'd attend, and I now have no images but those in my head to remember it by.
And it is worth remembering.
The morning was dreary to begin with, seeing as it's rainy season, and the students and teachers spent the first hour, from 7 am to 8 am, moving through the soggy field to find the set of chairs marked for their class and school. When all was settled, a master of ceremonies began by welcoming everyone to the new school year, and then reading off a variety of local people and businesses who donated varying amounts of money to Chris' high school or the education ministry in our town. It was riveting!
The ceremony continued as the sky opened up, and a group of five beautiful Apsara dancers were welcomed to an open spot right in front of the stage. As they began their alluringly symmetrical and traditional moves, the rain became increasingly stronger, until it was essentially raining buckets on top of these gorgeous women. It was terribly comical, and they had to maintain their straight, close lipped smiles, even as the rain pelted them from above. Every audience member felt for the dancers, as it's uncommon to ride your moto in the middle of a rainstorm, let alone dance. After another ten minutes, their dance completed, they rushed off, respectfully but fast, forgetting to accept the small gift from the Chairman. It was a beautiful dance, and despite the rain, they were flawless and captured my attention wholly.
Chris' school director's speech was next, and he had been trapped under one of the tents with students. Instead of walking through the pouring rain to the podium on the stage, he gave his speech right there. A few more speeches, and it was time for the key note address from the Chairman. From what I could gather, he offered a series of strategies to the students and schools to encourage a year of successful learning. He implored the students to study at home, ask their teachers questions, and ask their parents to help them be successful. He reminded the teachers and school staff to provide a good environment for learning, and work with the families and community to offer a successful year for the students.
Hilarious and sad, scores of students headed home throughout strategic points during the ceremony, and half of them kept up a conversation throughout the ceremony, creating a regular buzz of noise from the muddy tents the duration of the time.
After a beautiful, long and traditional song from a twelfth grade student, and a speech from another twelfth grader (both girls, what what!), the ceremony ended two hours after it began. We were paraded off stage by the town's student band (who are also the members of the boy scouts/young communist scouts), and I headed home to peel off my sticky sampot and collared shirt.
Bolstered by the excitement of the morning, I was excited for what I thought would be an afternoon of meetings, a gathering of schedules from the English trainers, and a solidification of my working hours for the next few weeks. Instead, I confusingly thought a meeting was scheduled for Tuesday, only to get there and receive a text from one of my co-teachers that we would begin next week, with a meeting on Monday. Turns out my sub-director was counting off the days until Monday not to tell me that's when we'd begin teaching students, but rather that's when our first meeting with the teachers would be. I've decided to pick up my Khmer studying a bit more, as I clearly missed a key word when I asked him the time of our meeting.
So I have spent this week creating small to-do lists to keep myself busy, which mainly means doing a lot of laundry, sweeping our floors a lot, swinging by the library I work out to hang with the few kids who turn up, and having detailed conversations with my host nieces and nephew. I have had a lot of time to run though - I even ran a whole 17 minutes yesterday, and am going on a 2 miler with Chris tomorrow! And I've spent a couple too many hours writing random Khmer words on the small whiteboard in our house and finding the best way to make the easiest caramel sauce using sweetened condensed milk (or, milk, as it's known here in Cambodia.)
Which also mainly means I have to go because I have a lot of very important things to do before school "begins" again on Monday. Cheers!
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