For historical reference, during this period Taiwan was preparing for an invasion by the People's Republic of China.
Only a few miles of ocean separated the mighty nuclear bomb from the relatively new nation (Or as considered by China, a breakaway province) of Taiwan. Regular bomb drills were held, and mandatory military service for men was required.


School fashion in Taiwan was simple, uniform for everyone and a crew cut. The steel gates were closed at the sound of the bell, and anyone caught outside would face a good smacking. Then there were the military style inspection, march, maneuvers, and finally the inspirational speeches by faculty and students. Classroom behavior was controlled to every last breath and which muscle used to exhale that breath. Punishment for rule violations was severe and without mercy (I will spare you the details since my therapist and I haven't really decided which
pills to take for it yet). It was normal and socially acceptable for two young boys to hold hands, since we were still afraid of girls. The most popular teenage rebellion at the time was to wear the white uniform shirt outside of the pants and skirts. However, the school administration acted swiftly to crush the dangerous and improper layering of clothing.

...1984, 7:30 AM, STILLWATER, OKLAHOMA

The first day of school could be compared to a job interview. The attitude, attire, voice, and networking skills were just as important as education. To fail was to be rejected by your peers. For this reason, I blame all my life's problems on Junior High School.

Imagine if you will, showing up at a job interview in United States without a word of English, squeaky pubertal voice, a face full of zits, and your concept of fashion was a white polyester jump-suit. Now throw in a few hundred 13 year olds who have not mastered the art of withholding laughter at the sight of an old lady slipping on ice, and you would have my first day in Junior High School.

Even had someone told me my head was too large for my body, and I looked liked an escaped convict disco freak from the 1970s, I wouldn't have understood a word. The principle was outside to greet me and sympathetically introduced me to another student from China. He did speak a few words of English, but more importantly, he spoke Chinese. Since we were both new and frightened, the years of political and military tension between our governments were forgotten, and we both decided that girl weren't that scary after all.

Continuing our exploration of our new school building, we casually walked down the hall outside of the gym. At first I was certain that the odd stares from the student body were a reaction to the ironic friendship of two people from hostile nations, bonded together by five thousand years of history. Then when the laughter exploded from them, we both realized something had to be wrong. After checking my zipper (Which my polyester pull-up jump-suit didn't have), and made sure I was wearing matching knee-high socks, we quickly realized that holding hands constantly was not in the best interests of our social standing. We threw our hands apart, and made a gesture of, "Geez, how did that get there." By then, it was too late; the scarlet letter of "D" for dork was already branded on my forehead. Luckily I was transferred to another school equipped with an ESL class the next day. However, my new friend was left behind to defend his own fate. We never spoke of that day ever again

Shawn Chen