2001-09-08 - 7:14 p.m.
Something I learned the hard way: The American hand gesture for “Shoo! Go away!” is the Japanese hand gesture for “Come here, follow me.” It’s of those things I never would have thought was culturally specific.
I know you are dying for a play-by-play of my 20 minute bike ride to school every morning, so here goes. My building is on the top of a big hill, so at first I’m coasting downward past other apartment buildings and houses. Then when things level out, I pass a small neighborhood grocery and a park with swingsets and slides. I bike through a residential area with many large single-family homes. Men are leaving for work in sleek Toyotas and women are up on the verandas, hanging out the futons for the day. I often see kids in uniform running to the nearest junior high school -- if I see them on my way to work at 8 AM, they’re already late. I pass the big 24-hour supermarket. Every time I do, I think about how great it is to have a 24-hour place to get late night snacks so close to my house. But in reality I’ve never gone shopping there past 8 PM. Then I bike along the road that runs parallel to the train tracks, past grungy-looking apartments, a barren park, barber shops and tiny bars. When I reach Apita, the fancy department store, I cross the train tracks (or wait for 5 minutes until the train passes and the barriers go up). Then I’m on a big road lined with restaurants, Pachinko parlors, furniture stores, and supermarkets. I have to dodge packs of high school students walking to school. I think after a few weeks I’ll start to recognize them. Right before turning up the road to the junior high, I sometimes stop at the 7-11. Did I ever mention that 7-11’s in Japan have great food -- you can get an assortment of onigiri (rice balls) -- my favorite are plum and pink rice with beans -- soba, salads, etc. There is also a dizzying array of sweet iced coffee drinks. Coming out of the 7-11, I turn onto a narrow residential street that winds past houses all surrounded by concrete walls. Most of the houses are Japanese-style, with tile roofs and sliding doors, but some are Western-style. Everyone has their futons and laundry hanging out. The junior high is on the top of a low mountain, so that means I have to climb it to get there. At this point, I hop off my bike and walk the 5-minute hike up to the school, meeting students who are hurriedly eating onigiri or tucking in their shirts as they walk. Perhaps after 7 weeks at this school I will not be out of breath when I get to the top.
The school I’m at is supposed to be one of the “tough” ones, but that is relatively speaking in this mostly rural district. These are the “city kids” of Kimitsu, and this is the second-largest jr. high in the city. I've been told that this school has the biggest teacher’s room and thus not as familial an atmosphere of any of the schools I’ll visit. The kids, I’ve been told, are louder and more rowdy than those at the rural jr. highs which have as few as 60 students. But still, we’re not exactly taking NYC public schools here. I've been touched several times this week by the kindness of the teachers and students I've met.
This week has been a test of my ability to sit at a desk for hours on end and do SOMETHING, so that it looks like I am doing SOMETHING to everyone who walks by and looks to see exactly what I am doing. I arrive every day at 8:20 and leave at 4:15. That’s a 40 hour week, and this week, because the kids have been practicing for Saturday’s sports festival, I’ve taught for a total of 6 hours. That leaves 34 hours of trying to look like I’m doing something productive. Factor in 45 minutes a day for lunch, and that’s still a lot of time to fill. I study Japanese, but one can only study for so long. I’ve worked on lesson plans for the adult education class -- I think they will wonder if I am psychotically obsessed with the class because of how much work I’ve put into making crossword puzzles and vocab sheets. I wrote a letter. I stamped about 100 students’ notebooks with Japanese “good job” stamps for a teacher. Then, took out my dictionary and spent an hour translating the stamps from Japanese to English. Today, faced with nothing to teach all day for the second day in a row, I brought in my laptop, so I could type up things to fill time. Yesterday, I stood outside and observed the sports festival practice for 3 hours. The students haven’t had much more than 6 hours of class this week either -- they’ve been perfecting chants, human pyramids, 3-legged races, and massive games of tug-of-war. The opening ceremony for the sports festival, which I watched the students practice yesterday, is a dramatic spectacle, complete with waving flags, triumphant music, and even a runner with an Olympic-style torch. It’s quite a sight to be seen. Saturday is the real deal, where I guess all of that practice is supposed to pay off in front of the parents. I just hope no one gets hurt during the surprisingly violent fight-and-grab-opponent’s-headband-while-he-is-on-teammates’-shoulders game.
