ABSTRACT
The day after the banquets, the generals and Party bosses who had invited me to lunch and dinner with the governor turned their brigade of crack young troops (i.e., the incoming freshman) over to me. What were they thinking? Can you imagine the responsibility in that? It would now be my job to properly mold their eager young minds. Or at least those of the English majors: a daunting challenge. They’d just finished three weeks of rigorous and intensive training, ten hours a day, seven days a week, marching, drilling, doing calisthenics and tai chi-like exercises, and getting yelled at a lot. Usually outside my window, at around 5:00 a.m. But as Sports Day had shown, the results were impressive. It was easy to see, during the Beijing Olympics to come, how such remarkable precision could be wrought in such a short time. These kids—offspring of the Red Guard and heirs to the Cultural Revolution—were physically fit, tightly drilled, and ready to rock and roll. Or at least, study English.
