First Bell

Though lenient in many a thing about attendance and dates and schedules, Moldovans are particularly strict about when school starts and finishes. September 1st, by golly, will be the first day of school, come hell or perhaps weekends. June 1st, accordingly, is our last.

In a culture where the children and the people are the number 1 priority according to all propaganda, these dates take on an almost Holy Day, holiday, feel. Even the worst scraps of children listen and are genial -- hands full of roses and mouths full of compliments for teachers they otherwise abhor. They even all wear their uniform.

Uniform consists of: White shirt. Black bottom. Girls to wear skirts. Boys, trousers. Ties (straight or bow) are preferred, but that can slide. As can the length of skirt and sleeves, height of heels and style of any of these things. Accents are all to be red. Red accents only. If you're going to wear color, it should be as an accent and it should be red. Except tiny little girls who can wear pink. Boys wearing earrings will be whipped.

It's amazing. At any other given day, like tomorrow, the first day of real classes, the school yard is a riot of dirty colors. Today, and June 1st though, The White Stripes would blend right in.

The premise for this ceremony: the first ringing of the bell, lessons starting. June, therefore, has the last ringing of the bell, lessons ended. To symbolize this, all the first graders hold hand bells and sit on the shoulders of strapping 12th grade graduaters and walk around the crowd ringing their bells like scaring off the dead. Then the director will ring the school bell proper one long time. This in between speeches and songs and poems and gushes of praise for all involved.

So. Get dressed, come on down. Stand/converse/listen to speeches and half the national anthem (will be tuned out halfway through, or whenever the flag makes its halting ascent... no one should sing for fear of looking enthusiastic) and after an hour of this, mill about giving teachers flowers.

Last year I got 1 flower. From a boy. I don't know if he knew who I was or what I was doing, or if he just thought I was pretty, but I got 1 flower.

This year I got so many I had to throw out half and still managed to arrange (Maria was impressed I could arrange flowers) two giant pickling jars full--one only for red long stemmed roses, one for everything else!

I also didn't have to give a speech this year, though I'll start drafts for the Ultimate Sunet.