Specific Nostalgia

As I depart my dear, darling students (well, most of them were dear darlings. Some were mischievous monsters) and beloved teachers and friends, I feel emotionally drained. The last two weeks I have spent in a whirlwind of rapid goodbyes and hopes to meet again in the future as I parted from those who have earned spots in my heart.

I have learned so much from my students and Japanese friends. If at any moment, which there have been some, I thought “man, my time here was not worthwhile,” all I had to do was look at the stack of letters written to me by my students thanking me for teaching them. Some students simply said they enjoyed my lessons and my singing, and others expressed their deepest gratitude and assured me that they would never forget me. The latter letters brought tears to my eyes almost every time.

Of course, it will be sad. Yet, I also feel a bit relieved as working as a teacher was NOT easy. Part of me feels like Frodo when he’s talking to Sam at the end of The Lord of the Rings and says “it’s gone, it’s done.” Okay, okay. Perhaps it is a bit hyperbolic to compare the end of a teaching job to throwing a cursed ring into the fires of Mordor, but I often have a flare for the dramatic, in case you haven’t noticed.

On my last couple of days here, I noticed that I started feeling nostalgic about far too specific of things. Saying to myself “wow, this is the last time I will ever walk to school,” or “I can’t believe this will be my last meal in the Indian restaurant where I spent many a night during my time in Japan,” is a completely normal thing to do in my emotional situation. However, all of a sudden, I realized that I began having these “wow, this is my last time” thoughts about even tiny details. While I was at the gym, I thought, “wow, this is the last time I will ever use this exact workout machine here.” Instead of the more general idea that it would be my last time in the gym.

I made myself chuckle at thinking of just HOW specific I could get with it. “Aw, sad, this is the last time I will be standing in line waiting to buy hand warmers at the random Japanese drug store near the sushi restaurant at exactly 8:16 at night, so sad!” Or, “I just might cry, it’s my last time biking in the cold when one of my headphones fell out of my ear because I hit the bump on the sidewalk at the wrong angle right next to the Pizza Hut, aww man!” Or finally, “here come the tears… this is my last time seeing the man who sometimes walks his Chihuahua outside of my apartment and always stops right under that tree so he can blow his nose and his dog can pee… I’m so emotional!”

Okay, okay. Maybe my nostalgia hasn't gotten to just such a specific point just yet. But as my time in Ageo ticks down to hours instead of days, I may find my mind going there.  

Leaving Ageo also fills me with excitement for the next part of my journey. I can’t wait to spend some time in Tokyo touring around and doing some things that were on my list of “must-do” things in Japan before taking off for Thailand. Tea ceremonies, Disneyland, and the Tokyo Skytree are calling, and who am I to ignore the call of adventure? (What a weird English saying, “who am I to…” Like, how do you respond to that?).

Youths!

I consider myself a morning person, as long as I’ve gone through my AM ritual of drinking at least one cup of coffee and eating my granola while sifting through the various stories in the news. I consider myself to be a morning person not necessarily because I am particularly bubbly or vivacious in the wee hours of the day, but because I enjoy them. I love sunrises, I love the newness associated with the fresh, pure early hours, and I love morning activities such as the aforementioned. However, like I said, it doesn't mean I radiate enviable amounts of energy at the start of the day.

My students at the junior high school, however, are another story entirely. Whereas it takes me a good quarter of the day to actually wake up and feel like a human being, they scamper up and down the halls of the school like Energizer bunnies on mass amounts of amphetamines from the moment they enter the building. I have never seen any of them at the second they wake up (how creepy would it be if I had?) but I imagine they spring out from under their covers with the same zeal for life they possess all day long. 

I wish I could borrow just one tiny bit of their constant energy. I used to be confused as to how they could eat such gigantic school lunches until I witnessed the sheer amount of activity they go through on a day-to-day basis. First they walk to school. Then many of them jog around the track. Then they spend all day in class, and in between periods they run boisterously up and down the halls, screaming at their friends or at least chatting animatedly. Then they chow down an unimaginable amount of food, which makes me feel like Jabba the Hut after eating just half of what they do, and then rush around and visit with their friends again. The students are just a whirlwind of activity at all moments, which is exhausting just to behold. 

After half the day is over, it seems as though they haven’t spent a single ounce of energy. Following lunch, they go to two more classes, spend a half hour cleaning the school, and then go to their after school activities. A few hours after practicing their chosen sport, they walk home, often up to a mile. Then they study, study, study and sleep. Whew. That made me tired just writing about it. Ah, to be young again… 

Black Friday Lesson

I’m seldom proud enough of my lesson plans to feel the need to share them through my blog. Generally, my ideas are slightly-altered versions of ESL activities that I find online or ideas shared with me by other teachers. However, the activity I came up with for today was entirely my own, and rather creative in my oh-so-humble opinion.

I couldn't for the life of me come up with a creative Thanksgiving lesson plan. Crap, one came to me just now, I could have had the kids plan a menu for an imaginary turkey dinner. Oh well. I digress…

I decided to give up on Thanksgiving all together, but I came up with a rather genius plan. I figured that most of my students would have at least heard of Thanksgiving, but I assumed (correctly, I later discovered) that not of them knew about Black Friday. And because the world isn’t full enough of consumers as it is (I hope you all detect the sarcasm in that statement), I figured I should spread the knowledge and focus my lesson plan on teaching my students how to shop.

Don’t worry, I didn’t bypass Thanksgiving completely. I showed them pictures of the holiday and explained the history in the simplest terms possible. Then came the main event. I printed out pages and pages of Black Friday advertisements from this year and passed them out to the students. The objective was for the students to make a list of whom they needed to buy Christmas presents for, look though the ads, and choose a present for each person. Then they needed to formulate sentences using the pattern: I will buy a (gift) for (recipient of gift). It is on sale for (price). At the end, they needed to add all of the prices together to determine their budget for Black Friday shopping.

Anyways, the most enjoyable part for me stemmed from my asking them to choose a present for me. Looking through their papers and grading them has seldom been more amusing for me. The students who quickly made it into a prime spot at the top of the list of my favourites were the ones who planned to buy me cameras, laptops, and other fancy goods. I worried initially when one student said he would buy me a Playstation 4 controller, as I don’t have a Playstation to control with it. I breathed a sigh of relief, however, when one of the other students wrote that she would buy me a Playstation. Along with a Playstation, my students plan to buy me three iPhones, five cameras, about 20 sets of headphones, an electric scooter, three TVs, an iPad air, a new suitcase, and diamond earrings. 

I guess I shouldn't have corrected this student. She IS buying me a TV, after all...

Interspersed with those awesome choices were some head scratchers including an air mattress, a hockey table, a clock, and a trampoline. One kid decided he would get me a waffle maker. Another plans to buy me some Tupperware. Another kid figured I really needed an HDMI cable, and another thought I’d want some new Sharpie markers. Whatever, those kids get points for making me laugh.

Number 3. 

Too bad this is all imaginary…

One kid made me laugh out loud awkwardly in the silent teacher’s room when I read the comment he wrote. Please read his answer to "How much will you spend on Black Friday?"

Out of Context

The first time I went out with one of the teachers from the school where I work, I asked her why she likes to go to Tokyo, which is relatively far, anytime she is free. She told me that she likes to leave the city in which she teaches because she likes to go far, far away from the students when she has leisure time. 

I didn't really understand this comment at the time. I assumed it couldn't possibly be that difficult to separate one’s work and social lives. I realised just how wrong this notion was. The city in which I teach didn't seem so small at first, until I began running into students no matter where I went, often at the least opportune moments. I’ve often almost run into something on my bike because a student saw me and called my name, catching me completely off guard. They’ve seen me at the grocery store, at the train station on the weekends on my way to a night out in Tokyo, at the convenience store paying bills... it just never ends.

Many of my students now know where I live, and I’m not sure how I feel about that either. My commute walking or biking to school may be short, but it gives me the time I need to mentally prepare myself for dealing with 600 energetic Japanese preteens and teenagers. Trust me, that time is needed for me to maintain what is left of my sanity. However, the other day, as I walked out the door I found myself face to face with one of my special education students. He watched me intently like a predator watching its prey in a nature special.  As I locked my door, all I could think was “great, there goes my mental preparation. It’s show time,” while I mustered up what little energy I could to pretend to be cheerful. Then we walked the entire way to school together. I wouldn't be surprised if students showing up outside my door in the mornings becomes a routine thing.

Now, I certainly understand the sentiments that my teacher friend expressed to me all that time ago. I, too, just want to escape on the weekends and go far, far away. Not that I don’t love my students dearly when they are inside the school. Seeing them outside of context is just too strange.

Wait, WHO Are You??

Story time. About two weeks ago, I was buying food from a shop in my hometown here. It was late on a Saturday evening, and I did not imagine that I would be running into a student, but it always seems to happen here since I have over 600 of them. My favorite time is when they spot me biking in my workout clothes to the gym. They always giggle and say “hello Miss Marisa!” in booming voices. So awkward. It reminds me of the time when I was their age and assumed teachers had no lives outside of school.

So, there I was buying my food when a shy little voice beside me squeaks “Miss Marisa?” The owner of the voice was one of my most bashful little students; she essentially speaks no English but I can tell she yearns to talk to me. So I mustered up my best excited look and said “yes! Hello! How are you? What is your name again?” She told me, and I committed it to memory. A moment later a woman who resembled the girl came up to me and transitioned from speaking to me in perfect English and my student in Japanese. She told me that the girl said I was a wonderful teacher, and also told me she has seen me a lot in her hot yoga class. I just assumed she was the girl’s mother and said I would see her at the gym.

A few days later, she saw me in the locker room and began conversing with me, even remembering my name and its pronunciation. I felt guilty that I forgot hers, but just asked it again. She invited me to Zumba class and I agreed, and then we talked some more and she mentioned that she did not have any kids? Um, what ?? I was a bit dumbfounded by the revelation that she was not the girl's mother, just some random lady who struck up a conversation with me when she heard my English. 

Anyways, I'm glad she did because she has ended up being an awesome work out buddy. We go to hot yoga together, Zumba ... whatever class she recommends, really.

Like all Japanese people, she spends an irrational amount of time at the gym. Seriously, people here stay at the gym for about two hours per visit, which morphs into about three hours when you consider how much time they spend showering and grooming after their workout sessions. I have yet to see a Japanese woman departing the gym with a single wet hair on her head because they all dedicate so much time to meticulously blow-drying their hair after showering. That’s one thing to which I will never acclimate- I refuse to spend an hour making sure my hair is bone dry to avoid potential judgment from others. If they each shaved about 10 minutes off their blow-drying routine, it would allow them 70 extra minutes a week for free time! Oh wait, they would probably just add it to their workdays.

Prior to this week, I never even bothered showering before going home since I lived so close to the gym, despite the strange looks I incurred when leaving looking grungy in my sweaty clothes. Whatever, let them judge. Yet things changed drastically when I was forced to shower after exercising because I had a dinner with a friend planned immediately afterwards. I ventured through the door leading to the showers, and my life was forever changed.

Behind the door lie a magical land of saunas, hot tubs of all shapes and sizes, and a plethora of showers. In this beautiful world, I could have easily spent four hours relaxing in the spas equipped with jets of different intensity levels and temperatures all across the spectrum. Honestly, when you consider that the monthly membership is only $45 dollars or so, it is truly an amazing deal. For that price I get access to the pool, the spas and saunas, the workout machines, unlimited yoga and dance classes, the free weights and strength-training machines, free Internet in the waiting room…it’s pretty stellar. All of a sudden it made perfect sense that the members stay for so long each visit.

Stay tuned for part two tomorrow: why I will not be able to spend as long as I’d like at the gym.

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.