*To be updated as necessary.
Introduction
My experiences in Japan have already been colored by many memorable obaachan encounters. There are, of course, as many types and individual eccentricities of Japanese obaachan (literally "grandmother," more loosely "old woman") as there are types of any sort of person. It seems, however, that much of my contact with obaachans can fall into a group of distinct categories, which are as follows.
The Oh-You-Teach-My-Granddaughter/Grandson/Great-Niece-Twice-Removed! Obaachan
This category is probably the largest and has the singular ability to always catch me off-guard. I'm usually stooping to tie my shoe, fumbling for car keys, or sizing up a small farmer's stand to determine how many bugs are likely to be found in ~that~ particular head of lettuce. Out of all obaachans, they also understand the least rudimentary English and have the heaviest local accent, making communication all but impossible. This is particularly trying (for both of us) as they try to describe their particular distantly-related relative whom I teach. [In the obaachans' defense, I still don't know all the names of all of my students, and in my defense, there are >300 students whose names I'm trying to remember and many of them resemble each other]. These obaachans are always good-natured, however, and usually leave me feeling very positively about them, their relation, and the world in general. They sometimes also try to shower me with presents, from vegetables to small candies they'd tucked into their purses presumably for just an occasion.
The I'm-A-Million-Years-Older-Than-You-Are-And-Therefore-I-Know-How-to-Micromanage-Your-Life-Even-Though-We've-Never-Met Obaachan
This type of obaachan is the most frustrating for the duration of an encounter. Looking back, however, I get the most amusement from them, if only for their audacious persistence. I still chuckle sometimes, for instance, at the obaachan who peered into my shopping cart last fall, spotted the 500 yen small package of fresh figs among my other selections, and told me I shouldn't buy them because they were over-priced. (She didn't tell me where I could find cheaper ones, of course, because there were no other cheaper ones... they're the first fresh figs I'd ever seen in a grocery store and, indeed, were only available for a few weeks around the time of our encounter).
Oooo, I still get a little annoyed just thinking about it. That was nothing compared with the obaachan encounter of today, however. I was driving along a narrow side-street -- barely enough room for one car-- and discovered an obaachan walking in the middle of the road. Squeezing off to the side (next to the railing beside the river)-- since she did not budge from the center of the road-- I crawled at a snail's pace until she was past and then resumed normal speed. Soon I reached my destination but had trouble deciding where would be best to park.. there wasn't much room and I didn't want to block the street. I'd just reached the building I was heading for when said obaachan came barging over, stormed between me and the person I'd come to talk with, and started telling them how bad my driving was. She went further-- oh the drain of my usual bountiful reserves of patience -- to say that when she first saw me, she worried that it was my first time driving.
Now, I can almost ignore the rudeness of interrupting a conversation. But to tell someone in my presence that my driving is ~that~ bad? ... it's beyond rude, it's insulting. Maybe she didn't think that I'd understand her Japanese. It's a sad characteristic trait of this type of obaachan, though, that they speak with perfect clarity and little trace of a local accent. I nearly almost understand exactly what their beef is and how they think I should change my life.
In today's instance, though, there was not even a trying-to-be-helpful "Why don't you do X instead of your youthful and irresponsible choice Y?" comment. It hurt, too, because I take pride in being a careful driver (some would probably say too careful), but no one over here thinks that I can drive because of the driving-on-the-left thing.
To summarize... this type of obaachan is one of my main pet peeves. They get under my skin and stay there, although I'm sometimes later amused by their audacity. While I don't approve of their blunt methods or rudeness, I do appreciate their honest opinions. Much of Japanese speech is shrouded in polite nothings, like delicate wrapping that must be teased apart from a fragile package. These obaachans' speech can be a refreshing change from that norm.
The Farmer Obaachan
It should be noted at this point that any particular obaachan can, at different times, fall into many different categories. This is a manifesto of 'obaachan encounters,' not obaachans themselves. That being said, the Farmer Obaachan encounter is usually passive; I see Farmer Obaachans tending their fields, hauling their vegetables around in little carts, and shuffling down the road from one field to the next.
There are two distinctive physical attribute, the first being their walk. After decades of laboring stooped-over in fields, these obaachans are usually unable or unwilling to walk fully erect. They are permanently hunched-over, to varying degrees, and shuffle along the side of the road as if they used a cane (which they don't). I thought this was very sad at first, but they are generally happy and love to make plants grow, so they don't seem to mind the toll that the effort has taken on their bodies.
These obaachans' second physical attribute is their complete inability to color-coordinate. Granted, they're working and sweating in the fields most of the day, so one does not expect the fashionable name-brand clothing of the younger generations. However, even the all-for-comfort, anti-fashion-police little old me is forced to reject their blue-background, flower-patterned pants paired with a green jacket layered over a peach shirt, all topped by a deep purple-background, flower-patterned Little House on the Praries bonnet. It's simply too much.
However much I disapprove of their fashion statement in general, one has to applaud their individuality and creativeness. I couldn't dream an outfit like that up.
The Driving Obaachan
Japan is probably one of the few countries which makes identifying obaachan drivers easy. There is a special "Old People's Sticker" that obaachans (and ojiisans, or 'old men,' to be fair) can slap on the back of their car. It's tear-shaped -- appropriately coded for the reaction of the driver who happens to land behind them -- and half orange-red, half yellow.
In Tsushima's winding mountain roads, there are occasional turn-offs along the side of the road. They're meant to help in narrow areas for smaller vehicles to give larger vehicles more space to maneuver. Because passing can be dangerous and difficult, generally slower vehicles also pull over into these turn-offs to allow faster vehicles to pass. Driving obaachans, however, rarely if ever use the turn-offs. If you get stuck behind a driving obaachan, you are most likely stuck there for awhile. Since driving obaachans also usually drive at speeds well under the speed limit, if you get stuck behind one you will most likely be late for whatever you were trying to get to. One has to wonder if they ever check their rear-view windows or if their eyesight is simply too bad to make out the blur of a car behind them.
I can't currently think of anything good about driving obaachans. In addition to the above, they also have a tendency to pull out in front of moving vehicles with very little time for the moving vehicle to slam on the breaks to prevent crashing into them.
Conclusion
Obaachans have many facets and intriguing qualities. Sometimes I love them, sometimes they truly irritate me.... but they're always fascinating. I strive to find the uniqueness and the good that is in obaachans and make those qualities my own.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Lessons in impermanence
I have been fortunate enough in the past 22 1/2 years to not have lost anyone close to me-- family, friends-- due to untimely death or other unforseen circumstances. In addition, most of the times I've been physically distant for long periods of time away from the people I deeply care about have been of my own choosing.
So these past few weeks have been wrecking havoc on my soul. Since I last wrote about graduation, I've bid farewell to three more middle school third-year classes. I've only been teaching them for about 7 months, and quite sporatically because of my school rotation schedule.... but I was surprised at how close I got to some of the students in that time.
Of course, graduation was inevitable. But in the past few days, I found out that a lot more people that I've gotten close to are going away, too.
Yesterday, notices for teacher transfers came out. I think I mentioned them before, but public school teachers in Japan can be and are transferred between schools on a fairly regular basis. There are a loose set of rules-- many non-island teachers usually only teach on islands for 4 years, for instance, and in my experience teachers usually stay in one school for at least a 2-3 years-- but the rules aren't always followed.
I still don't know-- and probably won't know for some weeks until I get around to visiting all of my schools again-- all of the transfers that are taking place. I do know, however, that my favorite middle school JTE is being transferred to a school in the southern part of the island. She always invites me to enkais, I've spent the night at her house, and we've even traveled to Fukuoka together for a weekend. I have a lot of Japanese aquaintences, but so far she is the only person who could qualify as a friend. [I'm working on changing this... but man... the language is such a huge barrier.] Knowing-- or thinking that I knew-- she would be around for another year was one of big secondary factors in deciding to recontract and stay in Tsushima another year. A girl needs lady-friends, and she understands me more than anyone else I've met here.
And now, completely unexpectedly, she's going away. Granted, it's only the southern part of the island-- 2 hours away and, really, no further than the southern ALTs with whom she'll now work-- but I so looked forward to the 3 days a month that I'd be at her school and we would teach together. It helped to keep me sane when I was at the other schools. I have no idea who is going to replace her... it's always good to keep positive thoughts, I guess. The unexpectedness is the hardest part... looking back and realizing that we've already taught our last class together... that we'll never again exercise together during breaks in the teacher's room. I will see her again-- I'm going in a few days to help her pack some of her things, and I've been invited to the farewell party-- but our working relationship is done.
I can now more deeply appreciate how graduation is meant more for family, friends, ~and~ teachers than it is for graduates. I had a farewell party last night that took the form of the departing teacher 'graduating'-- complete with parody speeches from the PTA and the local education authorities-- which was both touching and fun. I hope the farewell party for my JTE-friend goes as well.
On top of the graduating seniors and barrage of teacher transfers, quite a lot of students-- the children of various teachers, although I've only recently make some of the connections-- will also be departing this remote corner of the island, many for mainland Nagasaki. I've been hearing about those kids at odd moments, and it always throws me. Just today I was shopping-- picking up garbage bags, of all things-- and one of my most endearing kids, a 5th grade special ed student, came up to say hello. He also said that he was going to Nagasaki soon. In retrospect, he could have meant for a trip... I couldn't understand the particulars, and his mother pointedly ignored my presence... but his body language suggested a note of finality, like it might be the last time we saw each other. I tried to say good-bye, ended up waving madly, and made a dash for the cat food isle, where I promptly dissolved into tears.
Do teachers get used to this? Am I being overly-sensitive or worrisome about what will happen to my students? ...probably. I've always kept an eye out for my special ed kids, though, because they are so loving and open, and I don't want to see other kids excluding them or being mean. Most of my special ed kids wouldn't understand why they were being treated differently, if they noticed at all... but it's one of the few things that I can do something about. There are so many bad things that happen in some of my schools that I have no power to change... but I can include my special ed kids in whatever I'm doing.
If I had known that having so many students and teachers leave would be this difficult, I may have more seriously considered not recontracting. I couldn't even bring myself to ask my neighbors today-- all teachers at one of my elementary schools-- if any of them are leaving.
I'm thankful that it's a long weekend (the first day of spring qualifies as a national holiday) and I have some extra time to decompress and ruminate on the the deep but fleeting relationships inherent to a teacher's life.
So these past few weeks have been wrecking havoc on my soul. Since I last wrote about graduation, I've bid farewell to three more middle school third-year classes. I've only been teaching them for about 7 months, and quite sporatically because of my school rotation schedule.... but I was surprised at how close I got to some of the students in that time.
Of course, graduation was inevitable. But in the past few days, I found out that a lot more people that I've gotten close to are going away, too.
Yesterday, notices for teacher transfers came out. I think I mentioned them before, but public school teachers in Japan can be and are transferred between schools on a fairly regular basis. There are a loose set of rules-- many non-island teachers usually only teach on islands for 4 years, for instance, and in my experience teachers usually stay in one school for at least a 2-3 years-- but the rules aren't always followed.
I still don't know-- and probably won't know for some weeks until I get around to visiting all of my schools again-- all of the transfers that are taking place. I do know, however, that my favorite middle school JTE is being transferred to a school in the southern part of the island. She always invites me to enkais, I've spent the night at her house, and we've even traveled to Fukuoka together for a weekend. I have a lot of Japanese aquaintences, but so far she is the only person who could qualify as a friend. [I'm working on changing this... but man... the language is such a huge barrier.] Knowing-- or thinking that I knew-- she would be around for another year was one of big secondary factors in deciding to recontract and stay in Tsushima another year. A girl needs lady-friends, and she understands me more than anyone else I've met here.
And now, completely unexpectedly, she's going away. Granted, it's only the southern part of the island-- 2 hours away and, really, no further than the southern ALTs with whom she'll now work-- but I so looked forward to the 3 days a month that I'd be at her school and we would teach together. It helped to keep me sane when I was at the other schools. I have no idea who is going to replace her... it's always good to keep positive thoughts, I guess. The unexpectedness is the hardest part... looking back and realizing that we've already taught our last class together... that we'll never again exercise together during breaks in the teacher's room. I will see her again-- I'm going in a few days to help her pack some of her things, and I've been invited to the farewell party-- but our working relationship is done.
I can now more deeply appreciate how graduation is meant more for family, friends, ~and~ teachers than it is for graduates. I had a farewell party last night that took the form of the departing teacher 'graduating'-- complete with parody speeches from the PTA and the local education authorities-- which was both touching and fun. I hope the farewell party for my JTE-friend goes as well.
On top of the graduating seniors and barrage of teacher transfers, quite a lot of students-- the children of various teachers, although I've only recently make some of the connections-- will also be departing this remote corner of the island, many for mainland Nagasaki. I've been hearing about those kids at odd moments, and it always throws me. Just today I was shopping-- picking up garbage bags, of all things-- and one of my most endearing kids, a 5th grade special ed student, came up to say hello. He also said that he was going to Nagasaki soon. In retrospect, he could have meant for a trip... I couldn't understand the particulars, and his mother pointedly ignored my presence... but his body language suggested a note of finality, like it might be the last time we saw each other. I tried to say good-bye, ended up waving madly, and made a dash for the cat food isle, where I promptly dissolved into tears.
Do teachers get used to this? Am I being overly-sensitive or worrisome about what will happen to my students? ...probably. I've always kept an eye out for my special ed kids, though, because they are so loving and open, and I don't want to see other kids excluding them or being mean. Most of my special ed kids wouldn't understand why they were being treated differently, if they noticed at all... but it's one of the few things that I can do something about. There are so many bad things that happen in some of my schools that I have no power to change... but I can include my special ed kids in whatever I'm doing.
If I had known that having so many students and teachers leave would be this difficult, I may have more seriously considered not recontracting. I couldn't even bring myself to ask my neighbors today-- all teachers at one of my elementary schools-- if any of them are leaving.
I'm thankful that it's a long weekend (the first day of spring qualifies as a national holiday) and I have some extra time to decompress and ruminate on the the deep but fleeting relationships inherent to a teacher's life.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Advent of Easter
...just wanted to share a funny little story from today.
Easter's coming, and armed with a few egg-dying kits and some crayons, I'm preparing to introduce the art of turning boiled eggs different colors to some of my elementary kids (assuming I can get some of my teachers on board with the idea). I was thinking of sending a little memo home with each kid the day before, asking their parents to pack a (safely-wrapped) boiled egg the next day if the kid wanted to participate. That way, I wouldn't have to provide the eggs and do the prep work.
One of my island colleagues is clearly much more dedicated to this particular project. This is his second year of boiling a vast quantity of eggs for some of his students. We had the following amazing online conversation:
me: isn't it pricy? .. buying 190 eggs?
The Dedicated ALT: hmm... I guess so
me: dude, where do you even find 190 eggs?
The Dedicated ALT: heh. I have to spread it out
like I'm buying drugs or something
me: omg
The Dedicated ALT: don't wanna arouse suspicion by focusing on one supplier
no, actually it's because I don't want to mess with their inventory
me: addicted to eggs. hehehe
The Dedicated ALT: if they start thinking they have to prepare for an extra 190 eggs sold each day, that'd overwork some chickens somewhere
so I buy 'em in batches of 40-60 from saiki [island supermarket]
me: that's insane.
...I personally think The Dedicated ALT should be given a prize. A golden egg would be ideal... but I think a well-prepared egg salad sandwich would also be appropriate. Assuming the ALT in question can stand looking at/smelling/handling anything remotely related to eggs after the ordeal of boiling 190 of them.
Easter's coming, and armed with a few egg-dying kits and some crayons, I'm preparing to introduce the art of turning boiled eggs different colors to some of my elementary kids (assuming I can get some of my teachers on board with the idea). I was thinking of sending a little memo home with each kid the day before, asking their parents to pack a (safely-wrapped) boiled egg the next day if the kid wanted to participate. That way, I wouldn't have to provide the eggs and do the prep work.
One of my island colleagues is clearly much more dedicated to this particular project. This is his second year of boiling a vast quantity of eggs for some of his students. We had the following amazing online conversation:
me: isn't it pricy? .. buying 190 eggs?
The Dedicated ALT: hmm... I guess so
me: dude, where do you even find 190 eggs?
The Dedicated ALT: heh. I have to spread it out
like I'm buying drugs or something
me: omg
The Dedicated ALT: don't wanna arouse suspicion by focusing on one supplier
no, actually it's because I don't want to mess with their inventory
me: addicted to eggs. hehehe
The Dedicated ALT: if they start thinking they have to prepare for an extra 190 eggs sold each day, that'd overwork some chickens somewhere
so I buy 'em in batches of 40-60 from saiki [island supermarket]
me: that's insane.
...I personally think The Dedicated ALT should be given a prize. A golden egg would be ideal... but I think a well-prepared egg salad sandwich would also be appropriate. Assuming the ALT in question can stand looking at/smelling/handling anything remotely related to eggs after the ordeal of boiling 190 of them.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Signs of Spring and Weekend Adventure
Here are a few backlogged pictures to go along with previous entries. First, a picture of my beloved Tobu middle school third-graders. Ahhh, I can almost hear them planning their next prank.
I promised some pictures of plum blossoms earlier. Here are a few shots of the ones outside of my Board of Education--
...and more from my neighborhood. There are some perks to being set back in the middle of the mountains. Beautiful backdrops for plum blossoms!
This is an amazing plum tree which overhangs the river that runs along my road--
...what's below the plum tree? Another sign of spring-- daffodils!
It's remained fairly cool lately, but today was surprisingly gorgeous weather. I'd planned to do a bunch of cleaning but instead biked to the beach... which is becoming my standard weekend escape-from-the-apartment excursion. I always find something new there.
I promised some pictures of plum blossoms earlier. Here are a few shots of the ones outside of my Board of Education--
...and more from my neighborhood. There are some perks to being set back in the middle of the mountains. Beautiful backdrops for plum blossoms!
This is an amazing plum tree which overhangs the river that runs along my road--
...and my favorite 'manicured' plum tree in a private garden on my road. I like how the branches are weepy like a willow or cherry tree.
...what's below the plum tree? Another sign of spring-- daffodils!It's remained fairly cool lately, but today was surprisingly gorgeous weather. I'd planned to do a bunch of cleaning but instead biked to the beach... which is becoming my standard weekend escape-from-the-apartment excursion. I always find something new there.
The water was a gorgeous blue today.
...and the tide was out, letting me explore the bonzai-tree island without having to wade. I'd never seen the rock formations while the tide was out and thought the shapes were really cool. You'd think a sometimes-island would eventually be smoothed over like a stone, but the tides have instead gouged out crevices and pockmarks in the rock.
...parts of the rock even look like they were carved away by in a fluid paintbrush stroke.
A busload of tourists came so I got out of their way and was meandering around the rocks off to the side of the beach when I ran into Joey. He pointed me in the direction of some excellent tidepools.
Out in the tidepools, I ran into a Korean biogeographer who was collecting hermit crabs to conduct a comprehensive study comparing the DNA of Korean and Japanese crabs. It made me kind of nostalgic for science. I made quite a few interesting discoveries of my own, though, even without a BA in biology.
...and the tide was out, letting me explore the bonzai-tree island without having to wade. I'd never seen the rock formations while the tide was out and thought the shapes were really cool. You'd think a sometimes-island would eventually be smoothed over like a stone, but the tides have instead gouged out crevices and pockmarks in the rock.
...parts of the rock even look like they were carved away by in a fluid paintbrush stroke.
A busload of tourists came so I got out of their way and was meandering around the rocks off to the side of the beach when I ran into Joey. He pointed me in the direction of some excellent tidepools.
Out in the tidepools, I ran into a Korean biogeographer who was collecting hermit crabs to conduct a comprehensive study comparing the DNA of Korean and Japanese crabs. It made me kind of nostalgic for science. I made quite a few interesting discoveries of my own, though, even without a BA in biology.
In one of the tidepools, I was lucky enough to spot a sea slug. It's not as colorful as some of the ones I saw while scuba diving last summer, but it was possibly cooler because I could study it without worrying about my air supply, the current pulling me away, or my safety buddy going off to examine other things.
The sea slug used the two feeler-like apendages to the left to examine its surroundings before moving forward. Its hind end is ribbony and flutters like seaweed moving with the current; highly effective at blending in, I may not have noticed it if it hadn't been in a tide pool cut off from the current. The sea slug was really amazing to watch.
I also found a ton of sea urchins.
...they weren't as interesting to watch as the sea slug (didn't move at all, actually), but for some reason this cluster of them reminded me of the animate dust balls in Miyazaki's animated films. I could see them taking part in "Spirited Away" 's furnace room, helping Chihiro chuck charcoal into the flames. 
The sea slug used the two feeler-like apendages to the left to examine its surroundings before moving forward. Its hind end is ribbony and flutters like seaweed moving with the current; highly effective at blending in, I may not have noticed it if it hadn't been in a tide pool cut off from the current. The sea slug was really amazing to watch.
I also found a ton of sea urchins.
...they weren't as interesting to watch as the sea slug (didn't move at all, actually), but for some reason this cluster of them reminded me of the animate dust balls in Miyazaki's animated films. I could see them taking part in "Spirited Away" 's furnace room, helping Chihiro chuck charcoal into the flames.This is a bit of seaweed that I just thought looked pretty. It seems almost flower-like and different from the other seaweed.
...that pretty much sums up today's seashore exploration adventure. ^^
End of the Year
It's nearly the end of the Japanese third semester, which means graduation. It's so much different experiencing the graduation process as a teacher rather than as a student... I was always sad, especially in college, when a particularly good course ended. The unique discussions and collective consciousness of that particular group of people would continue as memory in its respective individuals, but we would no longer be able to add to our shared experiences. I'd see members of the class and hang out with them, but it wasn't the same as the whole class being together, each member adding their individual perspective to whatever topic was at hand.
The end of the year was also sad because of senior friends graduating... not knowing when, if ever, I'd see them again. My own graduations were a bit frightening and a little sad (the saddest was college, marching in my starchy black gown surrounded by the wonderfully brillaint women I'd had the privilege to live with, knowing we'd all be scattered to the winds) but also exciting-- I always had post-graduation plans to look forward to.
Now my kids are going on to greater things and it's my job to wave and smile good-bye. They're nervous and scared, most not yet knowing which high schools they will be accepted into. Some have already taken their entrace exams, some will next week. I feel like I'm just getting to know some of my third-grade middle schoolers-- mostly good kids-- and now they're leaving. My 6th grade elementary kids will graduate but continue in the middle schools I teach at, so I'm not really losing them.
Last week I was at Tobu middle school, where I made a point to spend extra time with the third-grade students. We played English "Fruits basket" during recess. One person stands in the middle of a circle of chairs, enough chairs for everyone minus the person in the middle. They say a sentence, something like "I like blue," "I'm wearing white shoes," or "I ate rice for breakfast yesterday," depending on their ability level. Anyone for whom that statement holds true must vacate their seat and find a new one, while at the same time the person in the middle tries to steal a seat. Whoever is left in the middle must come up with a new statement. It's a rather simple game that my elementary kids love, so I was a little surprised when the middle school 3rd graders approached me and asked if I'd play it with them. It was great, though. The boys got a little rowdy as they got more comfortable with me being around-- I am probably more lax than their regular teachers-- and at one point, one boy accidentally yanked down another boy's gym shorts so I was briefly mooned. All involved were embarassed. During my last class with them, the boy who had his shorts pulled down gave me a farewell speech in English which went something like this:
"Thank you for teaching us so far. We learned a lot. Playing Fruits Basket during hiruyasumi [recess] was fun. I am sorry to show you my butt. You have beautiful hair. It is very nice. Please enjoy the future and come see us."
...he really did say "butt" in English, too. In short, his speech was wonderful and hilarious and I almost burst into tears. The speech came at the end of class, and my JTE noticed my attempts to hold it together and quickly hussled me out of the classroom. Class came before lunch, so our real good-byes were during recess. We played one last game of "Wild Middle School Fruits Basket"-- complete with some chairs in the hallway, others scattered in non-circle-fashion around the room, and in some instances with many chairs pushed together to make a bench-like area that players dashing from different directions could fight over. Yeah, I don't think that I'm much like their real teachers. The game was amazing, though, and at the end I even half-hugged one of the girls good-bye. I'm sure there are rules about no physical contact with students, but some teachers in my other, more rowdy schools actually hit their students, so I think a mini-hug was okay. I wanted to tightly bear-hug all of them, but the boys are middle-schoolers and quite horomonal, and I didn't think it would be appropriate.
So far I've only had to say good-bye to my Tobu kids. Next week will be my last classes at Nanyo middle school, and I'll have to say good-bye to one particularly exceptional 3rd-grade student who goes out of her way to interact with me during break time. Last Friday was technically my last class at Hitaktasu middle school, but the kids should be in school when I go next Friday. Toyo will be my final middle-school good-byes when I attend graduation in a week and a half.
Out of all my students I feel the closest to the Tobu kids, so hopefully the other good-byes won't be as sad. It was really heart-wrenching leaving them and for a few moments during the boy's speech and directly afterwards, I wasn't sure if I had the mettle to be a teacher long-term and continually go through the process of getting close to students and then having to say good-bye. I have the memories, though, and it's comforting knowing that the time we have spent together has in part prepared them for the exciting things they're going on to. I was reminded of my college class' commencement address by Margaret Edson, on the subject of classroom teaching (video and transcript at http://www.smith.edu/commencement/2008/index.php) ... my students may leave, but my love for them is here to stay, in me.
The end of the year was also sad because of senior friends graduating... not knowing when, if ever, I'd see them again. My own graduations were a bit frightening and a little sad (the saddest was college, marching in my starchy black gown surrounded by the wonderfully brillaint women I'd had the privilege to live with, knowing we'd all be scattered to the winds) but also exciting-- I always had post-graduation plans to look forward to.
Now my kids are going on to greater things and it's my job to wave and smile good-bye. They're nervous and scared, most not yet knowing which high schools they will be accepted into. Some have already taken their entrace exams, some will next week. I feel like I'm just getting to know some of my third-grade middle schoolers-- mostly good kids-- and now they're leaving. My 6th grade elementary kids will graduate but continue in the middle schools I teach at, so I'm not really losing them.
Last week I was at Tobu middle school, where I made a point to spend extra time with the third-grade students. We played English "Fruits basket" during recess. One person stands in the middle of a circle of chairs, enough chairs for everyone minus the person in the middle. They say a sentence, something like "I like blue," "I'm wearing white shoes," or "I ate rice for breakfast yesterday," depending on their ability level. Anyone for whom that statement holds true must vacate their seat and find a new one, while at the same time the person in the middle tries to steal a seat. Whoever is left in the middle must come up with a new statement. It's a rather simple game that my elementary kids love, so I was a little surprised when the middle school 3rd graders approached me and asked if I'd play it with them. It was great, though. The boys got a little rowdy as they got more comfortable with me being around-- I am probably more lax than their regular teachers-- and at one point, one boy accidentally yanked down another boy's gym shorts so I was briefly mooned. All involved were embarassed. During my last class with them, the boy who had his shorts pulled down gave me a farewell speech in English which went something like this:
"Thank you for teaching us so far. We learned a lot. Playing Fruits Basket during hiruyasumi [recess] was fun. I am sorry to show you my butt. You have beautiful hair. It is very nice. Please enjoy the future and come see us."
...he really did say "butt" in English, too. In short, his speech was wonderful and hilarious and I almost burst into tears. The speech came at the end of class, and my JTE noticed my attempts to hold it together and quickly hussled me out of the classroom. Class came before lunch, so our real good-byes were during recess. We played one last game of "Wild Middle School Fruits Basket"-- complete with some chairs in the hallway, others scattered in non-circle-fashion around the room, and in some instances with many chairs pushed together to make a bench-like area that players dashing from different directions could fight over. Yeah, I don't think that I'm much like their real teachers. The game was amazing, though, and at the end I even half-hugged one of the girls good-bye. I'm sure there are rules about no physical contact with students, but some teachers in my other, more rowdy schools actually hit their students, so I think a mini-hug was okay. I wanted to tightly bear-hug all of them, but the boys are middle-schoolers and quite horomonal, and I didn't think it would be appropriate.
So far I've only had to say good-bye to my Tobu kids. Next week will be my last classes at Nanyo middle school, and I'll have to say good-bye to one particularly exceptional 3rd-grade student who goes out of her way to interact with me during break time. Last Friday was technically my last class at Hitaktasu middle school, but the kids should be in school when I go next Friday. Toyo will be my final middle-school good-byes when I attend graduation in a week and a half.
Out of all my students I feel the closest to the Tobu kids, so hopefully the other good-byes won't be as sad. It was really heart-wrenching leaving them and for a few moments during the boy's speech and directly afterwards, I wasn't sure if I had the mettle to be a teacher long-term and continually go through the process of getting close to students and then having to say good-bye. I have the memories, though, and it's comforting knowing that the time we have spent together has in part prepared them for the exciting things they're going on to. I was reminded of my college class' commencement address by Margaret Edson, on the subject of classroom teaching (video and transcript at http://www.smith.edu/commencement/2008/index.php) ... my students may leave, but my love for them is here to stay, in me.
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