With all the talk surrounding back-to-school season, my brother and I have been reminiscing about our favorite school memories.
I recently found a couple of funny pictures that reminded us of one of our favorite days from our elementary school in Hawaii: May Day.
The first Friday of May was marked on every calendar because it was the day our classes got to perform our hula dances for the whole school and our parents.
Most of my friends who grew up in the contiguous United States can’t believe this was actually part of my education, but each class at my K-8 school spent the entire year learning their own hula dance specifically for May Day.
The older grades even practiced ukuleles during music class and could play a song to go along with their performance.
As silly as it sounds, it was a fun way for our teachers to incorporate extracurricular activities – like physical education and music – with teaching us about Hawaii’s culture and history.
Hula dancing is particularly important in Hawaiian culture because the movements represent words from the song or chant you are performing. When all the movements – or words – are put together, hula is like telling a visual story, often about history or even a dancer’s family and heritage.
So, on May Day, not only was it fun to finally perform your dance, but it was special because no matter how young you were, it felt like everybody wanted to listen to the story you had to tell.
The day itself was like a big birthday party because the anticipation had been building all year long.
Even as little kids, we dressed up for the occasion. Every grade wore matching outfits to reflect the theme of their hula – usually the girls wore matching skirt and shirt sets and the boys wore coordinating shirts. We even had flower leis to finish off the look.
The whole school, plus parents and family members, would gather on the lawn outside the school and sit cross-legged on the ground during a day of performances.
We were all so giddy that day but somehow managed to sit still because we were completely enthralled by all the fanfare of each performance.
After the hula dances wrapped up, there was one more tradition that everyone waited all day to see – a ceremony in which pairs of eighth graders were named the honorary prince and princess of each Hawaiian island.
The eighth graders were told ahead of time who represented each island, as they emerged from the building wearing a certain color silk gown or shorts that represented it.
Even so, as one of the little kids, there was so much anticipation as you admired the island royalty and wondered who would be lucky enough to be named King and Queen of the Big Island, Hawaii.
We all couldn’t wait to see what island we would rule once we were the big kids.
(I, though, never dreamed of being the Queen of the Big Island because: a. I had to set realistic goals, and b. the King and Queen wore red. I wanted to be Princess of Maui because she and her prince wore pink.)
We moved from Hawaii when I was in fourth grade, so I’ll always have to wonder if I ever would have been crowned.
But, I like to think May Day helped plant the seeds for a love of storytelling and, of course, gave my brother and I a lifelong debate as to whether I would have been 13-year-old princess material. I’ll let you guess who was on which side.
-Kayleen Petrovia is a reporter for the Journal-Tribune.