First day at school

NOTE: This entry was written as I sat in class.

The Americans were split into different classes because there isn't enough room for us in the back of one classroom. There are four classes in each grade: yi, er, san, si. One, two, three, four. Classes are ranked by level of intensity, four being the smartest. I am in senior class two. I think "senior" is equivalent to sophomore year in the US.
Molly and I arrived about 30 minutes before we needed to be in class. We met up with Becky, Hannah, and Saber, but pretty soon I had to go downstairs to find my seat and get settled; I didn't want to disrupt anything on my first. Molly apologized for leaving me alone, I assured her it was alright, and I was on my way. I dallied outside the class a bit, until I mustered the courage to ask some kid where to sit.
"Ni hao. Wo zuo na'r?" Translation: "Hey. Where do I sit?"
Class is noisy, but people are looking and laughing that the boy I asked is talking to a white girl. He shrugs his shoulders. I points to a few of the empty seats until he nods at one, smack in the center of the room. Desks are in rows, I don't think there's a single semi-circle arrangement anywhere in the school. I thank him and head to my seat.
The girl in front of me smiles and introduces herself. She says her name is Viviane; I say mine is Kelala. A few minutes later, a kid, not in uniform, wearing a brown collared shirt under a white and grey Adidas zip-up, baggy Levi's, a funky pair of AirMax, and a lanyard hanging out of his left pocket with his subway pass and home keys attached. I didn't expect the lanyard trend to hit China yet. Everyone cracks up. Apparently I'm sitting in his seat. Viviane assures me that I don't need to move, "He's just a big jokester. He can sit somewhere else."
The teacher walks in. Baggy Pants walks up to the teacher and explains I was in his seat when he walked in; they laugh. I look up and smile. He sits somewhere else. All is good. The class is unfazed by their teacher's presence. One girl's eating McDonald's. One showing her friend a new song on her iPod. Another watches a music video on hers and turns to show the friends sitting around her. The teacher begins to talk. Then yell, but you still can't hear him. One girl walks into class late. Nothing happens. The teacher says it's 8:40 and the class bursts into laughter because although it is 8:40, the clock behind him reads 10:40.
It's quieter now, but people are still talking to one another. A cell phone is ringing. It's no longer quiet; I can't hear the teacher anymore. No one is listening. All of a sudden people whip out their wallets, I'm not sure for what. I'll ask Viviane once she sits back down. This reminds me of collecting money for a pizza party during long block. Only replace $3 with 1024 yuan, $150 per student.
Most kids, but not all, are wearing their uniforms. I wonder if the ones that aren't aren't because this is registration day or because they don't care. It's known that classes one and two are the kids who can't test into Jingshan.
Ten minutes have passed. Another adult is in the room talking with the teachers. Baggy Pants is turned around in his chair, talking to the girl behind him. One girl is writing something on the board. A list of some kind, labeled one through five. She writes vertically, not horizontally.
Viviane's back. The money was for a semester-long lunch pass. There's no off campus here, even though students have an hour and a half for lunch, and I don't think anyone brings their own food. I've heard the food is so bad it's hard to stomach. The teacher has left the room. Another girl walks into class, really late, and casually sits down. No penalty. One kid has his uniform zipped really low with a button-down shirt underneath, top three buttons unbuttoned, chest showing. He has one of those anime haircuts where his hair sticks straight up, almost like a porcupine. Alan, who came to Newton with Molly, also does the unbuttoned shirt thing.
The teachers back. Yelling again, not angry yelling though, just trying to get his voice heard. He makes not even the slightest progress. Girls and guys are talking freely to each other. Three girls in the front of class are holding five-inch stacks of bills. One of 100 yuan bills, one of 50s, one mixed. Viviane and her two friends are watching a cartoon on her iPod.
This uniform rocks. I was worried it would all just be too baggy and uncomfortable, but it's just like wearing pajamas and running shoes to school everyday!
Class is quieting down. I have no idea how the teacher did it.
A minute has passed, people are talking again, but you can at least hear the teacher. He's reading off a schedule. Kids walk in and out of class as they please. Viviane and her friends have their heads on their desk, laughing hysterically about something. Desks are like the ones we had in middle school with a pocket underneath for your stuff, only grey and much smaller.
Kids have stopped talking for the most part. The teacher said something about something being cute, hen keai, and the class let out a light set of laughter. He's funny, it doesn't take much for the class to laugh at one of his jokes. Now he's making fun of one kid to my right for always talking; everyone's cracking up. I'm not sure why he singled him out.

I just got pulled out of class to get my textbooks, which are 100% in Chinese, except for the English textbook. When the women handed them to me she said, "Here's your knowledge." When I got back to class everyone laughed at my nine textbooks in hand. It must all be for show. I'm not expected to follow along and complete this work, yet it's still necessary for me to bring the textbooks back and forth from home to school everyday.
The teacher sent a student to tell me I could leave. It's around 10 a.m. Viviane and I talked a bit before I left. She's 16. I told her I've been studying Chinese for two years. The man I thought was our teacher is actually the grade coordinator; our teacher's absent.