2001-10-30 - 6:23 p.m.
You’d think I’d know by now. Most things I am asked to do or attend turn out to be a totally different and much bigger deal than I had initially thought. But when a local elementary school teacher asked me a few weeks ago to attend a Halloween party, I said “yes” and didn’t really think twice about it. Yesterday, the day of the party, I biked home fast from school, grabbed my costume (a gray sheet, worn toga style, my Statue of Liberty sunglasses, and an American flag) and scurried to the corner cake shop, where the party’s host was picking me up at 4:45. She was already in a witch costume, and her 8-year old daughter, who spoke startlingly good English, was decked out in all sorts of trendy accessories -- wrist bands, rainbow fanny-pack, lots of hearts and stars everywhere -- as a member of Morning Masume, a Japanese pop group. “The kids are so excited to see you!” the host, whom I’ll call Satoko, told me. She went on to explain the agenda for the party, -- first I introduce myself, then the kids ask me questions, then I teach how to bob for apples, then I lead trick or treating, and it became clear that I was to be the entertainment, adding the authentic Halloween flavor if you will -- to this party of 25 elementary school kids. Silly me, I thought I would just be a guest!
When we pulled up to Satoko’s house, in a well-off neighborhood of my old junior high school, some kids were already waiting outside with their mothers, decked out in costumes. There were several Minnie Mouses and witches (and one “Minnie witch”), a few princesses, a cowgirl and a couple of cowboys, a ghost (made out of plastic grocery bags), a Little Red Riding Hood and two more members of Morning Masume. After posing for a group photo, Satoko ushered us inside and into a large living room. I sat in a chair and all of the kids sat around me at my feet. One by one, they stood up, introduced themselves (“Nice to meet you. My name is Yuki. I am witch.”) and asked me a question which they had rehearsed, it seems, beforehand. In addition to the usual “do you like soba?” and “can you eat sushi?” I got some new ones -- “What is your favorite snack?” and my personal favorite, from an eight year-old girl, “Do you like blueberries?” Most of the kids were terrified -- after all, some were as young as 7 and they were talking in a foreign language -- but Satoko coached them through it, one by one. Afterwards, we made origami Jack O’Lanterns and did the extremely unhygenic (especially by Japanese standards) activity of bobbing for apples (fortunately, I went first on that one). Next was the “dance contest” -- Satoko put on an English CD and the kids sang and danced to a song whose lyrics were: “Hi, Hi, Bye, Bye. My name is... I’m from Japan. Nice to meet you. Ouch! That hurts! I’m sorry!” I had to pick four winners, who got pumpkin medals, and for the remaining 21 contestants I autographed certificates that said “Good Job!” (“They really want your signature!” Satoko told me.) Then we left to go trick or treating, which Satoko had arranged with two of her neighbors. Marching down the street with a line of kids in costumes carrying bags of candy and saying “trick or treat,” it really felt like Halloween. It actually was a bit disorienting -- perhaps, I might imagine, like going to Tokyo Disney land and hearing Mickey speak Japanese. When we got back from our two-house jaunt, the mothers were waiting to pick up their kids so we snapped a few more photos and they were on their way.
I went back inside Satoko’s house while she changed out of her costume before dinner. After a look around, I realized that she is the equivalent of the American PTA super-mom. She seems totally committed to providing a stimulating learning environment for her kids in the home, and her particular obsession seemed to be English. In the living room hung a colorful banner that read, “Tomorrow’s success begins today!” The bookshelf was stocked with English children’s books, and her son’s certificates from the English speech contest were proudly displayed on a shelf. In the bathroom, an alphabet poster hung on the door and a couple of words -- “government” and “actually,” words of the day, I would imagine -- were taped above the toilet. No wonder her second-grade daughter had greeted me so adeptly in English -- she receives heavy coaching at home.
Satoko, her daughter and her 14 year-old son, a former student of mine from my 1st junior high, took me out to dinner at a local tempura shop. (I don’t know why we say “teMpura” in America -- it’s “teNpura” in Japanese.) Satoko is very familiar with vegetarianism, which is nice for a change. “Sarah is a vegetarian,” she had explained to the kids at the party, “Many foreigners are vegetarians. It is one difference between foreigners and Japanese people.” This familiarity comes from the fact that Satoko lived in America for three years and seems take make it a point get to know all of the ALTs in Kimitsu and introduce them to her kids. She explained that after being in America for 3 years, with so many “high nosed” people, it was weird to come back to Japan and only see “flat nosed” people. Her daughter concurred that my nose was very “high.”
After dinner, I went home and spread out all of my candy from trick-or-treating. No mini-Almond Joys or Three Musketeers; no lone box of Sun-Maid raisins (what were they thinking?). Only chocolate soccer ball cookies, a blue jelly-thing in a tube, and some sweet rice snacks. If trick or treating in America really does decrease due to the economy and the war, now you know where to send your left over Halloween candy.
-----
I put a mailbox on my desk at school so that students can write me letters in English, and I can write them back. I got my first note yesterday, from a 8th grade girl named Akiko. It said, “DEAR Sarah, Hello. My name is Akiko Sugita. I like cute Sarah. What do you like? Love, Akiko.”
