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.