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From Monday to Friday I’m not in India.
There are borders and rules which delimit who can enter and exit, what happens, and how one can behave between the “walls” of this school.
Saturday morning arrives, from my windows still lacking curtains filter in the two minutes of sun that are possible during this season.
I see the greenest green there is and a monkey leaping from branch to branch, and hear some bizarre species of bird twittering.
Modest clothing, comfortable shoes, and camera in hand: it’s time to go to the bazaar!
All of a sudden, I remember that I’m in India.
When I see a scooter pass carrying three pepole without helmets; when from the fog a cow appears that wanders tranquilly about the streets; when I smell the scent of spices in the air.
We are free and curious, for a whole day no one knows anything about us, while we try to learn everything about India!
A whole-leg waxing for 150 rupees, a magnificent meal for less than 300, and so on (42 rupees = about 1 American dollar).
“After an experience like this, don’t you think you’ll travel for the rest of your life?”
“We’ll always travel together!” – “You’ll be a journalist and I’ll be a National Geographic photographer.” “Yes, OMG, YES!”
Siii viaggiaaareee… [A song by Lucio Battisti that translates as “Yes, to travel”.]
FOOD wonderful FOOD
Go ask Amanda
Typical Indian student.
It’s traditional for the seniors to “enslave” and dress up the freshmen in what today is called “Friendship Day” (it used to be called initiation).
I decided to stick to Indian themes, dressing my dear friend Anshuman as the Indian god Krishna.
First prize for the best costume – the prize was a lot of chocolate, which went to the undersigned and her blue victim.
MomComm: Freshman initiation was a fairly new (or revived) idea when we were freshmen. We, too, had dress-up day, a matter for concern among the administration because in previous years some seniors had dressed their freshmen inappropriately (read: too sexy). We were all in 9th grade science class when Mr. Kibblewhite came to inspect our outfits.
Although it would involve another gruelling trip down and up the hill again, I longed to be sent back to the dorm to change. A couple of sadistic senior girls had dressed me in striped long johns and a denim skirt, with big freckles painted on my face and my hair in pigtails stuck out with wire.
Mr. Kibblewhite had us all stand up, and worked his way down the rows of students, ordering a shirt buttoned here, and one or two people to go change. He got to me, looked me up and down, and pronounced: “You look cute.” Augh!
It could have been worse. I still have photos of Nathan Scott dressed as a gigantic baby, standing in a garbage can, singing.
10 minutes.
Always the longest in my life!
10 minutes between the end of the lesson before the lunch break and the lunch break!
10 minutes from 4:00 to 4:10 when the schoolday ends.
10 minutes between the end of the schoolday and the after-school snack.
10 minutes from 8:50 to 9:00 when mandatory study hall ends (you have to stay in your room, quiet, possibly studying, for an hour and a half).
I begin to dose out my life in minutes! 40 or 80 of lessons, depending on the day.
5 or 2 minutes before lights-out.
“ All right girls! You have 25 minutes before lights out!”
“All right girls! You have exactly 30 minutes to hand in your clothes to be washed!â€
“All right girls! You have 30 seconds left to pick up your clean clothes before I lock the laundry and you’ll be cold and naked for ten months!”
Exaggerations apart.
“Ok girls!†It’s time for my favorite announcement: “The hour and a half of study hall is over and they’re selling food downstairs.”
I go.
I wasn’t waiting for anything else.
MomComm: Midlands, the girls’ dorm, has a loudspeaker system now, so announcements can be made at the touch of a button. I’m not sure I’d like this particular manifestation of modernity. I suppose there’s an electric wakeup bell or announcement as well. In our day, we were woken up by Dham Singh walking the halls, swinging a large, bronze handbell. This was, perhaps, kinder – the bell would reach you from far away, gradually growing louder as you swam into consciousness, arriving to clang right outside your door, and then fading away again as Dham Singh proceeded down the hall.
The bell for meals, instead, was a piece of railroad track hanging from a balustrade, which was whacked vigorously with a crowbar. It would start out slow, gather into a rapid crescendo, and then fade away again. I don’t know whether this musical approach was devised by the man who banged it every evening.
Once, for a prank, Jenny Rudolph and friends stole both bells and hid them. The next morning Dham Singh walked the halls with a tinny-sounding decorative brass bell that the supervisor kept on her desk, which woke us up by its sheer novelty.
Mrs. Silver got her revenge – she locked the doors and wouldn’t let anyone leave for school until the bells were returned (being late for school would have incurred penalties).
Rossella’s diary of her year at Woodstock School on the SAGE Program.
2007 Feb 25
Aug 7, 10, b, c, d,
e, 13, 16, b, 17, b,
c, 21, 22, 24, b,
27, b, 28, 31, b, c
Sep 3, b, 6, b, 7, 10, b, c,14, b, 17, b, 18, 19, b, 21,b, c, 24, 25, 26, 27, b
Oct 3, 5, 9, 11, 12, 15, 16,30, 31
Nov 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 10, 16, a,b, 17, 18, TOS gallery, 20,24, 25, 29
Dec 1, 2, b, 3, 8, 10, b, 13,18, 22, 25, 26
Graduation awards,baccalaureate, bacc videos,behind the scenes, banquet,banquet videos, photos,graduation, photo gallery