A Sea of Dancing Uniforms

While living in Yumen I have developed a few habits that are very firmly in place. For instance, every morning I leave my apartment about 15 minutes before class, buy a coke and a mahua (a twisted breadstick) at the stores on the bottom floor of my building, and make my way out of Number 3 middle school, where I live, to Number 1 Middle School, where I work. While the anticipation of a day full of teaching is enough to make each walk a pleasure, my walks are particularly joyous on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. On these days my classes do not start until 10:25, so I leave my apartment at 10:10, just in time to be met by a never ending expanse of students line dancing to Chinese techno music.

Every morning at 10:05 Number 3 Middle School Engages in the morning exercise. It begins with each of the 3000 students standing in designated spots around the school’s athletic fields and parking lots and entranceways dancing in unison to Chinese techno music. A few minutes in the techno music develops into a rap, at which point the synchronized movements of the students speed up. To add to the sensation that I am walking through a swarm of possessed children, the students are required to wear identical blue and white jumpsuits over their normal clothes. They become essentially indistinguishable in this swaying mass of black haired, jumpsuit laden children. This  daily exercise is simultaneously one of the most alarming things I have ever seen and one of the most humorous school activities I have ever been witness to. 

When I finally manage to find my way out of the maze of dancing middle school children I make my way to the gate of my school, only to be met by a less enthusiastic show at Number One Middle School. While enthusiastic dancing to techno and rap manages to work in at Number Three Middle School, where the students range from eleven to fifteen, it simply will not work in Number One Middle School, where the students range from fifteen to nineteen. I cannot say that I am entirely surprised by this, because I cannot imagine that a daily, school-wide techno dance would have succeeded at any of the three high schools I attended. In lieu of energetic dancing to strange techno music, the students of my school are forced to awkwardly move their arms and legs in certain directions as a recording of a man saying “YI ER SAN SI WU LIU QI BA, ER ER SAN SI WU LIU QI BA…” (“ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT, TWO TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT…”) is played.

When I return home this is something that I will truly miss. I have come to appreciate the sense of unity that this ritual creates. Mostly though, I have enjoyed being able to watch it for a long time ever since I managed to stifle the inevitable laughter that the sea of dancing children inspires.