It was a typical Monday morning. My form teacher, Mrs Tan, was going through our exam questions. I pot down some notes and did my corrections.

“Riiiiiiinnnngg!” A high-pitched sound pierced through the air like a knife. Covering my ears in annoyance, realization dawned on me. It was the fire alarm! While I encouraged others to remain as cool as a cucumber, it was in vain. My classmates were all screaming and running around like crazy.

“Calm down, everyone! Please queue up in an orderly manner! We have practised this in the fire drills!” instructed Mrs Tan , sounding anxious.

The class ignored her and continued screaming at the top of their voices. One student even broke down in a fit of panic. I rushed around the class, asking all my fellow students to settle down while waiting for further instructions.

A serious voice soon announced from the speakers in every class, drawing our attention. “All students are to follow their teachers and evacuate(撤离)the building in a calm and organized manner. The fire may have been caused by a gas explosion in the canteen; do not go near there!”

Mrs Tan finally managed to calm the panicky class down. In a strict voice, she told us that we were to use the evacuation route to Gate 6. She arranged the pupils quickly in neat straight rows and led us out of the classroom.

Upon taking my first step out of the classroom, I took a deep breath instantly. The surroundings were hazy(模糊的) as thick smoke came from the canteen. Choking, I unconsciously covered my nose. To make matters worse, the ash from the smoky surroundings hurt my eyes. Coughing anxiously, I tried to see my teacher in the lead, but the air was too hazy for me to see anything clearly. Within less than a minute, I lost sight of my class and was left alone.

A wave of anxiety washed over me.

Just then, the figure of Mrs Tan waving a torchlight appeared from the smoke.

If you are walking across the campus, you can be embarrassing with every pair of eyes on you, especially when you're 13 years old. I looked around me to find a friendly face, a smile, anything. I was quite disappointed. And I, in turn, felt a little foolish, walking across campus with a false smile on my face. I was simply hoping to follow the advice that my mother had given me years before: when things get embarrassed, smile. No matter where you are, a smile will always be understood. At that very moment, however, I felt my mother's advice didn't work.

Just at that time, I was asking myself questions and concerns of any l3-year-old on the first day of school: where would I sit at lunch? Who would I talk to? Not to mention, how would I make friends when I didn't even speak the language? My heart was beating fast, and I felt nervous. Still. I did my best to be calm so as not to let others know just how sceared I truly was.

When the teacher introduced me to the class as the “American girl, 10 sets of hands immediately shot up. Some students had questions, others wanted to practice their English with me. Because I didn't speak much Chinese yet, I talked with the other students through body languanges mixed in with broken English and Chinese. however, I wasn't sure how much of it was positive. It was almost as if they weren't sure what to make of me and I was being examined. Then again, who could blame them? After all, I was the first American ever to attend the school. So, we were all first timers.

Then came the first class—Chinese painting.

As I burnt with great embarrassment, Li Hua, who was next to me, gave me a warm smile.

A Farewell Party

We learned that our class teacher, Mr. Read, was about to be transferred to another school in a week. All the pupils adored Mr. Read as he was a very good and dedicated teacher. He never shouted at us and was very patient with the slower pupils.

Our class decided to hold a farewell (告别) party for this model teacher. But we needed to have the permission of the school’s headmaster first. Judy was given the task of writing to the headmaster for permission to hold the party as her handwriting was the neatest and her language skills were excellent. After the letter was written, all the pupils in the class signed the letter and six pupils, myself included, went to the headmaster’s office on behalf of the whole class.

The headmaster was mildly curious when he saw the six of us in his office. We gave him the letter of request and after reading it in silence, he frowned. He said that the request was very irregular but after the six of us begged him genuinely, he finally changed his mind and gave us the permission. He allowed us to hold the party during the last period of the following Friday, which would be Mr. Read’s last day of teaching in our school.

The whole class was excited after getting the permission. We gathered together after school and planned for the party. After some debate and discussion we finally agreed on the things we needed to do.

On the following Friday, after we came into the classroom, we hid the drinks, food, and the farewell gift—the “Complete Sherlock Holmes”—in a corner so that Mr. Read would not see them as we wanted to surprise him. On the last period of school, our class monitor, Aaron, approached Mr. Read just as he was about to begin the next lesson.

“Sir, we have obtained permission from the headmaster to treat you to a simple farewell party.”

Immediately the pupils brought out the drinks and food.

After Mr. Read’s speech, I was given the honour of presenting our farewell gift to him.