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Min tibetanska barndom i Zorgay - Life and Culture on the Tibetan ...

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Wo qu shang xue xiao,<br />

Tian tian bu chi dao,<br />

Ai xue xi ai lao d<strong>on</strong>g,<br />

Zhang da yao wei ren min li g<strong>on</strong>g lao.<br />

I am going to school,<br />

I w<strong>on</strong>’t be late every day,<br />

I love to study <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> work hard,<br />

When I grow up I want to c<strong>on</strong>tribute to <strong>the</strong> people.<br />

.<br />

We learned to sing this s<strong>on</strong>g, just as we learned how to chant<br />

mani from our gr<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>mo<strong>the</strong>rs: we understood n<strong>on</strong>e of it. Every<br />

morning, we sang this s<strong>on</strong>g in unis<strong>on</strong>, sometimes for <strong>the</strong> entire<br />

forty-five minute class, like young m<strong>on</strong>ks reciting religious<br />

scriptures. It must have bo<strong>the</strong>red o<strong>the</strong>r classes. We sang this<br />

s<strong>on</strong>g countless times. It was boring to sing a s<strong>on</strong>g without<br />

knowing <strong>the</strong> meaning, but we dared not complain to <strong>the</strong> teacher.<br />

When I went to bed at night, this s<strong>on</strong>g's melody still resounded<br />

in my mind. My head seem entirely occupied by this s<strong>on</strong>g. A<br />

s<strong>on</strong>g can be a less<strong>on</strong> for students if <strong>the</strong>y know its meaning, but<br />

this s<strong>on</strong>g gave us nothing.<br />

We had no real classroom. There was <strong>on</strong>ly <strong>on</strong>e desk <strong>on</strong><br />

which teachers put <strong>the</strong>ir coats <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bags. There were fewer<br />

chairs than students so we took turns using <strong>the</strong> chairs as desks.<br />

Those without a chair for a desk, lay <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sat <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> filthy floor<br />

to write whatever <strong>the</strong> teachers told us to. From this<br />

uncomfortable situati<strong>on</strong>, we realized how important our parents<br />

were, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how warm <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> comfortable our homes were.<br />

The teachers taught us little <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> beat us a lot, as though<br />

we were wild piglets. Our behavior was roguish, but <strong>the</strong>y did<br />

not need to beat our palms so often or spank our bottoms with a<br />

bamboo stick until it split. All of us were our parents' beloved<br />

children; <strong>the</strong>y seldom beat us as hard as our teachers, even<br />

though <strong>the</strong>y did punish us. Deep in my heart, I thought teachers<br />

were not people who taught us, but people who tried to tame us.<br />

We endured this for two semesters.<br />

All I learned from <strong>the</strong> xueqianban was how to write<br />

Arabic numbers <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>the</strong> pinyin alphabet. Maybe this was <strong>the</strong><br />

<strong>on</strong>ly purpose of our local xueqianban.<br />

▪38▪

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