Humbled

Merely thinking two very distinct people here in Japan will always make me think twice about complaining. The first is one of my students. To avoid disclosing substantial detail, he has a physical disability that would normally inhibit physical activities. But, this student has adapted to his situation and, not just lives a normal life, but thrives unlike many of the others. Not only is he actively involved in multiple sports, but excels in every school subject as well. He quickly became one of my favorite students by always talking to me cheerfully every time he saw me despite his low level of English. The kids here sometimes don't realize that their attempts at communication alone mean the world to me.

His positive attitude and consistent optimism inspire me daily. During moments when I am brooding and complaining about things that simply aren’t important, I think of how insanely lucky I am. If he can be happy all the time, so can I.

The vice principal at my school is optimism embodied as well. He works harder than almost anyone else at the school, constantly answering phones and cleaning during his fleeting moments of free time. In spite of his heavy yoke of responsibility, the kind that would cripple many others attempting to bear it, he always goes out of his way to make me feel welcome and assist me with my problems.

The kind of stress in his life would drive me insane, or at least to the bottle. With the hours many Japanese people work, it doesn't surprise me that so many of them drink just to blow off steam. But, the insanely long working hours don’t do that to this man. Every time I ask him how he is, he says he is “fine” or “great.” The other day he said, “I am always great!” in a bold, enthusiastic voice. If he ever gets stressed out or upset, it doesn't show. He exhibits kindness that is clearly genuine. Many people can fake their positive attitudes, but you can usually tell. 

These two individuals at my school have taught me more than I could ever hope to teach them. 

Olaf

So, as anyone who has ever known a middle school-aged boy for any reason (hopefully for a non-creepy one) knows, there is this grand canyon-wide difference between their appearances at that age. For example, there are some who look as if they does body building for two hours daily at a gym, and then on the other end of the spectrum is the boy who looks around 4 feet tall and 70 pounds. One boy from the latter category is this adorable student with a huge grin almost too large for the width of his face plastered across it at all times.  He wears big goofy glasses and has completely unruly hair, both of which features suit him perfectly. I can never remember the poor lad’s name, but I found out that many of the students in his class call him “Olaf” in honor of the silly snowman from Frozen. It is one of the most perfectly suited nicknames I have ever encountered.

The students that actually try to answer questions and participate in class, whether they are good at English or not, completely make my day. “Olaf” happens to be one of them. The other day we did an assignment where students had to interview each other asking questions like “do you play soccer?” and afterwards, they had to write sentences reflecting the answers. So, the other teacher and I asked for volunteers to answer the questions once everyone finished asking their classmates. Olaf’s hand shot into the air. “Okay, great!” said my fellow teacher, gesturing for him to stand. “So, who plays soccer?” The desired answer was: “(name) plays soccer.” But instead, in the loudest, most cheerful and confident voice I have ever heard and while wearing that endearing smile, “Olaf” said “Who puh-ray-a sacca!” (Who plays soccer?) The entire class, including Olaf himself, erupted in boisterous laughter and the other teacher said “yes, good, but WHO plays soccer?” and he adopted a look of shock, said “ooh! Oh! Marisa sensei puh-ray sacca!” I adore that kid. Also, you never want to see Marisa sensei playing soccer. Trust me, fifth grade soccer is not a pleasant memory for me.

Everyone could learn so much from his joyful attitude, namely to laugh at yourself and take risks because that is how we learn.  

He is not the only one in this school from whom I have adopted a new outlook on life. There is a teacher at my school who summited Mount Everest. He acted completely nonchalant when I asked him about it, admitting to it as if he were recounting climbing up Fuji. As one who has lived in fascination of such a feat and those who achieve it, I was instantly awestruck, as though in the company of a celebrity. From him I have learned humility. In my opinion, climbing Everest gives you all the bragging rights in the world and skyrockets you instantly to badass status. 

However, he is one of the most kind, humble people I have ever met. I asked him what it was like at the top and he said simply “I felt free.” I cannot even imagine that feeling of liberation. The point is, he is always so kind to me, apologizing when he is using the copy machine and I have to wait, and saying excuse me all of the time, and all I can think is, “you climbed Everest! You don't need to apologize to anyone!” But he treats everyone with kindness and respect, which makes me wish to do the same.

I have already learned kindness, humility, honesty and respect from my coworkers and students. I’m sure that over the course of my time here I will only learn more.

Jan-ru-ary...?

Teaching English to Japanese pre-teens is rewarding and enjoyable and, on a less pleasant note, sheds light on the little spelling and abnormal quirks of our language. Today during my English class for the special education class, I was teaching the days of the week, the first six months of the year and the four seasons. While I began to write the names of the months on the chalkboard, I froze while writing the word January. Crap. With all eyes on me, the blood drained from my face as I realized that writing that word is simply habit. When extensively focusing on the spelling of the word January, panic set in. Where was my best friend, Spell Check, to help me out in my time of need? Out bowling with my other buddy Second Nature, I guess. Those two are officially no longer my friends.

JANUARY? The word itself began to just sound absurd in the way that any word does if you repeat it to yourself enough. For example buttress. I mean, is that seriously a word that we allow to exist in our language!? Jan. U. Ary. That seems logical was my first fleeting thought. But then I remembered our dear friend, Feb RU ary. February? Is that a joke? What is with the silent R? Perhaps at some time in the antiquity of English it was pronounced.

My hand began to shake as I held the chalk to the board, fully aware that 30 plus sets of eyes were locked on me, the new foreign teacher conducting her first real lesson. Would she fail? This was my moment to impress them all! And, thankfully, I remembered my training. We were told to make a decision and stick with it, complete confidence shining through. If you forget who the first president was, as inexcusable as it may seem, if you say CLINTON with enough gusto, perhaps your attitude alone will make it correct enough for the students, anyway...

So, with chalk to chalkboard, I went with my gut. J-A-N-U-A-R-Y. Phew! I checked later and luckily, it was correct. No stupid, hidden R in that one! Thus, my lesson was a success, and perhaps a future generation of eager Japanese kiddos will move forward in life spelling the first month of the year correctly.

I blew the MINDS of those kids with my perfect spelling of JANUARY!