Remember Remembrance Day

Her skin contrasted with the dark orange carpet; her eyes fluttered around the room, where a group of girls sat in chairs filing their perfect walnut nails whilst discussing what color and shade would most compliment their kin tone. Another group of girls were intensely debating what the latest trend in school would be. The perks of going to an all girls school included how knowledgeable you become by updates you received about the 'necessities' of fashion.

In the center of the room was my quirky English teacher - Miss Smith. She was babbling about how it was important to be Australian - our English topic for this term.She reminded me very much of a fairy, physically small but wise. Her feet never seemed like they touched the floor, she practically flew with eagerness on this specific topic as she spoke.

Maybe it was because she cared too much - many Australians did. Mate-ship was one of the few aspects she would endlessly chatter about. It was an aspect that was regarded with great significance. Being Australian practically meant there was an expectation of helping others and standing together whilst doing so. Our history revolved around the obliged law shared experience of mate-ship. The classroom seemed disjointed; there was no focal point in the room.

Everyone seemed to be intrigued with something different, their attention was divided. An urgent ring echoed through my reverie. It brought connotations to my mind that it was a message that had significance. Through the cracked speakers, situated at the top right corner of the room, a croaky voice began, "Please excuse this interruption teachers and students", its voice was as dreary as talking to a wall.

"Please stand for the minute of silence". Of course, today was, I struggled to remember the term - Remembrance Day. The name tickled the end of my tongue - it was not an event that was spoken much about.My parent's, who originally migrated here to Australia, from Vietnamese, has never mentioned the importance of this day.

I was almost certain that they did not know such a day existed. I wondered why we did not have a day off. Then I realized hat was actually ANZA Day - when there was a day off at school, when we received double pay from work and that period of time where Safely baked those really crunchy ANZA Day biscuits. I was certain there was a stronger importance to ANZA Day - the fact that money and food required a national holiday seemed to make Australia seem all too sandals.I was astounded Tanat even rater 12 years AT consoling, I have failed to remember the significance of this Australian tradition. I recalled that it was a day for commemorating the Australian soldiers who have fought in wars and armed conflicts.

I also recollected the acronym of ANZA - Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. It was meant to be a national occasion; a military anniversary of the first major military action Australia took part in, in WWW. This day sounded important enough, although, I thought that it really included only 'Australians' and sought to alienate those who were not.It was expected of us to participate in this ceremony - all Australians did.

I could not imagine what would occur if someone was to retaliate and refuse to participate. I would imagine that that person would have been regarded with a stigma of immorality and would be considered as non-Australian UN-Australian. Miss Smith's squeaky voice ordered everyone to stand. Jenny, who seemed to be dosing off, let out an impatient sound, which reminded me of a small puppy that refused to be coddled.

I stood up, indirectly facing the teacher, mirroring the rest.There was a volley of mutters that came from the students who began awkwardly situating themselves against the wall. It was ironic that at this moment, we seemed to be most at unity. We, although, were clearly annoyed at this disturbance, a growing respect crept amongst the girls while they stood. From the same cracked speakers, a trumpet began with two long notes and halted.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet and laid my arms in front of me. The silence was deafening, excluding the sound of a few girls who were giggling Just above a whisper. The sound of the trumpet returned, this time upbeat.It reminded me of last weeks party - I knew it was morally wrong to compare the one-minute of silence too DC but I struggled to grasp to anything I could relate to.

The silence followed after the upbeat rhythm. The room was now truly silent, the girls had adapted to the noiselessness. My eyes trailed around the classroom to where girls were fidgeting with their hair. A girl in front of me had black hair that was like a ripple of a reflection on her back, identical to my own.

Its color was regularly classified as 'Asian hair,' I wondered if she, too, did not know what she was meant to be thinking about.From my peripheral vision, I noticed another girl whose hair appeared to also be black. When I peered closely, however, I could see her light blonde Rexroth creeping at the edge of her scalp. She was definitely Australian - her hair was like sandpaper, a consequence from endless hours of assuaging at the beach. I realized now, how different all the girls in my class were.

Although they had he same interests and the same values, they were different in culture and heritage. It was these 60 seconds that we looked most alike.The girls, teacher included , stood with the same awkwardness, accompanied by a mutual respect present amongst them. We all seemed to be lost in thought. The repetitive melody returned.

It seemed to be too speedy and cheerful. Those who were not accustomed to tens tradition would a nave thong NT Tanat It was a time AT celebration - not a time of sorrow. It was what made this event Australian - only Australians had a connection with this event. Yet there I was, an Asian-Australian ho was born and lived in Australia all her life, struggling to know what it was she was meant to be thinking about during these 60 seconds.

The trumpet ended with two notes that seemed to stretch on until forever. The girls broke from their rigid stances from the wall and returned to their original positions. No one has spoken since, only the rustle of our skirts against our knees could be heard. I sat down on the same location on the carpet. I couldn't help but reflect on what has Just occurred.

I was probably the worst example of an Australian - uninformed, conflicted and clueless. I realized that all the people in this room robbery felt the same way. They, too, probably felt how UN-Australian they were.This characteristic was common amongst all Australians who did not have any direct connection to the Australian soldiers who have died or the wars that they have participated in.

This was what classified us as the same. My fingers traced the abnormal shapes on the carpet beneath me. I concentrated to where my finger was pointed. The scattered shapes had transformed to what seemed like figures standing alongside each other, connected by what seemed like hands.

I guessed, Miss Smith was correct. Mate-ship was relatively Australian after all.