Pipkia and the Seven Dwarves

The very last thing I saw of my precious school of two years was the Wednesday, June 4th performance of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, followed by a series of dances and songs. All in all, it was a good way to go out, most especially because nearly every number starred my precious sixth formers, though also because the best students from the eighth grade class made cameos, as did my host sister. It was like a series finale where all the old characters come back for one last hurrah, complete with a greatest hits compilation of dances they already knew but that they rehashed for the benefit of our honored guests.


Speaking of which, here they are. The volunteers on the right got the shaft, as usual, but from my left is the Peace Corps director, my counterpart, the Peace Corps executive secretary, and a foreign service officer from the Embassy. The school collectively peed itself when it found out that someone from the Embassy had accepted their invitation. A bunch of representatives from the city government and the local education resource center showed up, too.


Perhaps that's what led to the change of venue for this supra, from a chain of desks in our English cabinet to a rented-out restaurant. My counterpart pled in vain that the parents not blow their money on anything fancy, especially after spending so much on costumes and such, but nothing's too good for guests, as we realized when they brought out the second helping of ice cream, after the mtsvadi, khinkali, cake, pre-cake, khachapuri, mchadi, eggplant, cherry, strawberry, chicken, sulguni cheese, pizza, and tomato-cucumber salad with walnut courses had concluded. Please refer to what I said here about what I'd do if the community coughed up a big supra after pleading bankruptcy when we were searching for contributions to our library project. Nonetheless, it was impressive.


Snow White, like I said, came out in a most adorable manner, and the children were very put off by the manner in which I squealed every time I saw them in their cute little costumes. Here we have the seven dwarves, clothed inexplicably in neon green tunics, metallic red bloomers, and Santa Claus hats. The little kid hamming it up is my neighbor Robiko, who was so moved by his own performance that he and his friends spent the next day making a 6-part movie with their camera phone (p.s. which has better resolution than my camera-camera) about a thief who kills someone's wife and then is caught with drugs and killed by a policeman.


Check out this 30-second clip, their dress rehearsal rendition of the pivotal scene when they discover Snow White is dead and they kill the queen. Pretend that Snow White is playing dead instead of giving orders from her deathbed. Props to Doc Dwarf (the tubby one) and the Queen for their SAG-worthy performances.

The amazing success of the play was followed up by a series of poems and songs, ranging from Byron and Shakespeare to "Under Da Sea" and "Supercalifragilisticexpielidocious," to "Sway" by the Pussycat Dolls and the spiritual "Do Lord." Each was met with wild applause, or at least polite clapping.


Sensing that I had not made enough of an ass of myself, the children magically became littler and cuter, resulting in a performance of traditional dances from the region of Ratcha by the 3rd grade class. If I've uploaded the video, then you should check it out because: a) it's really short, and b) they're really short.


In the end, however, my favorite dance is and always will be the Ajaran dance, or acharuli (mayhaps atcharuli or ajaruli). Every kid in this video is my 6th grade student, and I had a big stupid grin on my face the whole time I watched them. I should mention that this video was taken during the dress rehearsal and that Robiko did not dress in street clothes for his grand solo at the actual performance. He also held an instrument in his hand instead of miming it.


Last but not least, the national anthems. They had learned "America, America" instead of "The Star-Spangled Banner," but being that the latter is full of antiquated language and has a more difficult melody (not to mention that it's about war and bombs, as my liberal friends would point out), we left it as is.

While I'm beyond relieved that the school year was over, I'm going to miss my students. It sounds lame, and perhaps it is lame, but they were the only reason I didn't switch schools. I hope I run into them a million times this summer, and I'm certain that I'll receive ten billion texts from them before July 17th. In the meantime, here's a series of pictures of them looking cute. If you like these 10% as much as I do, then it was worth uploading them. If not, I've wasted your time, and I apologize for being a groupie of my own students.