In my childhood, before high school, I lived in a tiny rural town named  Lai Fu. At Lai Fu, there was a kindergarten, an elementary school, and a middle school with a high school together. The name was Laifu Middle School. So all the children were classmates, sisters and brothers were classmates.

Laifu Middle School was a typical country middle school, where classrooms were at the foot of a hill, and teachers’ offices were in three bungalows on the hillside. There were three other cabins on the hill, where dormitories for teachers and staff lived. Our home was to the right of the middle bungalow. It was said the area was a graveyard before the school was built. Around the buildings, we still could see a few graves in the weeds, so I was terrified to go outside when it was dark.

Among the staff of Laifu Middle School were three large families. One was the family of the principal, whose last name is Yang. Yang had six children; the third boy was the same age as my oldest sister.  He became the school’s new principal because of the political divisions of the Cultural Revolution; Yang had won out over the old principal, my mother. Our two families haven’t talked to each other since that happened.

My family had five children: my three older sisters, one brother and me.

The third big family was the physical education teacher, Chen, and his wife, an art teacher. They were close to the new principal after my mother stepped down. Chen had four children. 

All three families’ children were almost the same age. We were all classmates in different grades, but because of our parents’ tense relationship, we children couldn’t interact with each other at home. However, during school time, some of us were good friends. For example, in school, Yang’s fifth child, a boy, and Chen’s second girl were my classmates and friends;  Chen’s first child, a girl who was my fourth sister’s classmate and good friend. 

One spring, we broke this deadlock. Even our parents suspended “the Cold War” between such families. Everyone seems to have forgotten that the Cultural Revolution was enormous.

It was a beautiful day. Sunny and breeze, it was an excellent day to fly kites. We felt freedmen because we finally took off those heavy winter coats.

That morning, we forgot who started to make a kate. The younger kids from all three families tore off a piece of paper from our homework, glued it on a small bamboo stick, and tied a string to make a kite. Then one pulled the string, and the other held up the paper high; when we said ready,   the one holding the paper off-hand let the kite go, and the one pulling the string ran as fast as he could. We hoped our kite would fly up. We tried so hard; my classmate, Yang’s fifth, had a fall; when he pulled the kite to run, his and our eyes were eager to watch the kite, so he tried a stone and wore his knees. But our kite couldn’t fly at last.

Then, our older brothers and sisters saw what we had done. They laughed at how our kite was not like a kite at all; it was like a diaper.

“How could your diapers fly up the sky?” My brother looked at our kite and said, “Watch me!” 

So, like my brother, those bigger children from every family joined us and started to make kites. They said that they would make real kites. 

When our older siblings were busy making their kites, we, the little ones, were directed to run like a group of worker ants. One moment, they asked for scissors, the next for glue, the next for bamboo or paper, or ordered us to take Mother’s thread.

My brother was not the oldest boy in the group, but I thought he was the smartest. He tore Off three homework papers, two paper horizontal pastes, and the longer two edges wrapped in a thin bamboo; the two homework papers became the upper body and wings of the kite. The remaining homework paper would be the kite’s lower body. It was erected, and one edge stuck to the upper body of the kite which just made,  and the other end was also wrapped and stuck on a thin bamboo stick; we must ensure that the kite’s lower body is in the middle to make sure the left and right sides of the kite is balanced.  At this time, the kite couldn’t stand yet because it had no backbone.  He used a Bamboo stick crisscross tied to the three horizontal bamboo sticks, and then the kite had a backbone and could stand up; a prototype of such a kite came out.

Then, some paper streamers were glued on the wings and tail to adjust the kite’s balance and make it more beautiful when it flew up in the wind.

The last is to install the kite’s pull line.  Installing the kite’s thread was vital because it was the key to ensuring the kite could fly and fly high and far. 

My brother called me to pull the kite and run. The kite flew up, but not longer and up higher; the kite dropped down like a bird was shot. The first test failed.

Then, Brother adjusted the line and tried again. Then, our kite, like a drunken man, the wobbled kite dropped again. 

We adjusted the line again and again. We must adapt to control the kite and wind forms at the best angle and ensure the kite can get maximum wind. Now, I think it should be 45 degrees. 

Finally, our kite flew smoothly up and up like an eagle. 

We didn’t know when or who started it, but the kites of the three families began to compete; we looked at which family’s kite could fly higher and further. 

Our older brother or sister blew the kites; we younger kids were jumping and screaming around them. We were so thrilled! 

After a while, our laughter attracted the attention of our parents. They put their work down and came from their homes to watch our kite competition.

The physical education teacher, Chen, was the first parent to join the kite competition. Chen’s four children were younger than those of the other two families. The oldest child was a girl， the second child was a girl, and the ages were the same for my fourth sister and me. The other two children were boys, but they were too young. So, Chen’s kids’ kites did not fly as well as those of the other two families. 

How could he stand to see his children lose the kite competition? So, he had to do it himself. He made a giant kite to join our competition.

Then Yang’s siblings made a butterfly kite. They drew the kite to a beautiful butterfly. Even though the butterfly kite didn’t fly far or higher than Chen’s big kite, we thought it was lovely.

Looking at all the children, especially his kits, enviously at the Yang family’s butterfly kite, teacher Chen used a half-character poster paper to make a kite; his wife painted the kite as a hawk, whose eyes were deep red and big and round. The black curved nails were sharp. It looked fierce. Its brown wings were spreading and flying.

That’s time, every family had significant papers for writing Big-character posters.

When we saw the Hawk Kite, we felt they had won.

We stopped shouting and watched the hawk kite soar in the sky. It flew far and higher, like a proud real hawk. It had been far higher than all of the other kites. Chen and his children were also like the hawk, immensely proud!

At this moment, my father came home from work and saw us downcast.

“Look at me; let us win!” our father said. But we couldn’t believe him because we knew he couldn’t draw anything. I silently prayed, “Please don’t draw a dog that looks like a pig again.” It was one of my father’s jokes. When I was a little girl, he taught me what a dog is. He drew a dog, wrote a word- DOG, and taught me to say “dog.” I said it was a pig, and he asked my mother and siblings, and they all said he pulled a pig.

But my father did not get my prayers. He excitedly took out a big red Big-character posters paper. In the upper left corner, using a rule and triangle rule, drew a giant pentagram, and painted it gold, then, he drew four smaller golden pentagrams around it.

“It was the Five-Star Red Flag of China.” my brother shouted. 

“Will we fly the National flag of China in the sky?” my oldest sister asked.

“What do you think!?” my father smiled and proud to said

“Great!!!” we said together.

We surrounded my father and the Five-star red flag kite back to the competitive place. My brother took the kite string, and my father held the kite up. Together we shouted one, two, three,  and ran!!! Father released the kite; Brother ran fast that he could. The Five-Star Red Flag’s the kite flew up and up.

We all watched the Five-star red flag kite rise higher and higher, far and far. 

We thought our Five-Star red flag kite was dazzled more in the blue sky than the hawk kite. We were proud of our kite!

Teacher Chen saw our Five-Star red flag kite and was unwilling to be left behind. He made a vast hawk kite using two Big-character poster papers; even more remarkable, there were three smaller hawk kites surrounded it. When the massive kite with the three smaller kites flew up, it was like an aircraft carrier battle group in the ocean.

It was sunset. The sky at the top of the dome was deep blue, but the clouds at the foot of the dome were flushed rose and tangerine.

In the blue sky fringed with rose and orange, Yang’s colourful butterfly kite, our Five-star flag kite, and teacher Chen’s fierce hawk kites, which resembled an aircraft carrier battle group, all flew freely.

Our Five-Star Red Flag kite was in the blue and white clouds of the sky. It was so gorgeous red, and the five gold stars also shone. 

Yang’s beautiful butterfly kite was dancing in rosy clouds;

Like an aircraft carrier battle group, Chen’s family’s hawk kites were swimming in the air ocean.

Adults and those bigger children started exchanging their experiences and skills in making good kites.

We younger kids ran around them. 

On that day, there was no Cultural Revolution, no bad people, no “cold war,” no sorrow, and no troubles. There were only kites, joy, and the warm sunshine of spring.

Since that day, we nicknamed teacher Chen: “the Big Kite”