Dressed in shimmering orange velvet dresses and classic black-and-white tuxedos, the students sang brightly to the audience, their pink cheeks reflecting the warmth from the stage lights and their excitement about the coming adventure—a trip which marks the 35th anniversary of Germany and Vietnam’s diplomatic relationship and gives these 36 students the opportunity to experience an exotic locale through participation in a cultural gala.
Since the students begin every class period at school by singing one of their choir songs (in two, three, or four part harmonies), I'd heard several of the arrangements before, but I enjoyed the additional refining touches added at the conductor's hand. Now that I've been at the school for two months, I also knew a lot more of the students performing on stage, and both of the girls who sang solos are in my 11th grade class.
I’m not a teacher, well not technically, but I thrive off the relationship aspect of the job. And, as an “assistant,” I can bypass some of the authority issues faced by actual trained teachers; for instance, instead of Frau Huggins, all of the kids know me simply as Erin. Hugging my students in the foyer after the concert, enjoying the smiles on their faces and congratulating them on a well-delivered performance, I realized again how lucky I am to be placed in Wernigerode, where community is encouraged and fostered, not estranged.
A little later, I got on my bike again, pedaling the short distance to my friend Jordan's apartment. He's also a language assistant, but he gives the students at his school in Ilsenburg (the neighboring town) a bit of a different perspective, starting with his very British English. We were both planning on attending the Hoch Schule's "Sportler Party" that evening, and Jordan had invited me for dinner beforehand. Over warm noodles with sausage and cream sauce, we laughed about our past few weeks of teaching, including recent mornings we'd both had where nothing had gone right: his due to a glitch in the clock function on his cell phone, mine due to oversleeping and a teacher forgetting to tell me about a change in the schedule.
Shortly before 9, we headed to the gym for the party—a gathering for students who participate in sports at the local college (or, in my case, for friends of those students). Our friend Steven was still at the admissions table when we got there; shortly thereafter, he assumed duty at the low-key bar. As an extra surprise, I bumped into my roommate Franzi, who was also part of the evening's festivities.
Franzi’s dance group was the first presentation following the obligatory introductions and honorary recognitions. A red phone booth replica provided the backdrop for the dance number, which was framed by a pair of scraggly bare-branched trees. I was standing on a bench near the back of the crowd in order to see over the heads of all the people, and I enjoyed the creativity the group presented through its routine. After it wrapped up, I was excited to see what my friend’s Frisbee team had produced.
Even though German punctuality is practically a national code of honor here, the scheduled slot for Steven’s Frisbee group had already long elapsed by the time the dancers began mingling with the crowd again. The DJ started pumping louder music, and swirling bodies swallowed the open space at the front of the gym, swaying and jumping to the vibrating beats. Normally I'm not a huge fan of the "club scene"—blame a bad first experience or a conservative upbringing—but this party brought together the elements I do actually enjoy: friends, laughter, fun music, and, most importantly, ample smoke-free space.
I think it was well after 11 when the moderator's microphone crackled back to life, and she urged the students to make space in the front again for the combined performance by the Frisbee team and the body shape group.
Although the debut wasn’t quite spectacular, the swirling disks had a mesmerizing effect, glowing red, white and green as they soared back and forth across the gym. The body shapers bent their limbs in a choreographed dance, the music played, and the Frisbees flew. Sometimes the plastic discs hit the ground, rolling a short detour before resuming their endless arcs, curving high overhead or slicing low to the ground, always in motion—the one element perhaps that united not only the performers but also the evening.
Much later, after the general crowd had spread out again, dancing into the wee hours of the morning, Steven and his friends resumed their Frisbee play near the back of the gym. Somehow, it fit.
Whereas the rich velvet gowns, shimmering in the concert hall’s clear light, had reflected the richness of the choir’s program earlier that evening, these illuminated discs, sailing through the darkened clusters of people meeting and separating in a chaotic continuum, embodied the atmosphere of the later event: the pandemonium of “everything goes”; the forgetfulness of the world outside four walls; the simple swish, drowned by the music pulsating, bodies twirling, drinks flowing. In disordered confusion, the simplest of cycles emerged.
Catch. Release. Repeat.
Visit the following links for more information about Landesgymnasium and to hear a sample of the choir's work: Evening Rise.
