Fam Jams in Tokyo

I’m Gem. 

When I hear those three letters, I know that someone in my family – Mom, Dad, uncles, aunts, cousins or the little ones – are beckoning. (My brother still calls me by my full given name. No reason, we just like it like that). 

Most recently, I have noticed that two or three friends out here in Japan have started calling me “Gem,” too, so it’s nice to hear some times! But overall, I feel most comfortable when I hear my fam call me "Gem."

[My given name includes five letters - a combination coined from my parents first names. I divulged this information to some of my students last month, writing "G+Emma" on the blackboard. They hissed, "Kakkoiii" or something to that effect.]

Last weekend, I got back to my roots. I had a touch of nostalgia after spending the weekend with one of my cousins. He now lives in Tokyo, so I quickly took up his invitation to come visit his new place tucked away in Harajuku. 

I am extremely happy to have some family in Japan! If you know me, you fully understand that I love famjams. The food. The inside jokes. The munchkins crawling your lap, begging you to play DS with them. (Actually, the older munchkins must be 11 or 12 now. Time flies, eh). It’s a beautiful thing. So, I was craving a “cousin weekend.”

After hopping on a shink and a subway, I finally got to his local subway station on Saturday afternoon. Amidst the crowds, I heard: “Hey, Gem! It looks like Japan has been treating you well!” I never fathomed I’d be walking down Tokyo streets with my cousin. Life is great like that, eh. 

It was such a breath of fresh air to reminisce with a family member, someone who knew me during my awkward stages in childhood. I haven’t seen M. in years, especially since we are only second-degree cousins. But over the weekend, we were able to delve way back into our memories.

We recalled that we have the same birthday. His family gave me a birthday present when I was a kid – I distinctly remember it was a white long-sleeved shirt, emblazoned with a cartoon picture of Quebec pop sensation, Mitsou. He tutored me in high school calculus, a course that I took for “fun.” (I didn’t need the math credit, but my guidance counselor highly recommended that I take calculus so that I could take math for “fun.”) I think I went through two or three tutors, including my cousin, but I still barely passed that course. Yay.

I asked him an innocent question: “Do you like cats?” And he answered positively, even mentioning he wanted to visit a cat café. When I was about to suggest a place in his neighbourhood, he was already on the ball and told me that the business had closed down. Obviously, I knew of another one and so we checked the cat café in Ikebukuro instead. My favourite cat had to be a short, stumpy orange-whitish cat. He bears a striking resemblance to Garfield. He was really low to the ground, and his face looked like it was smushed. How adorable, right?

Before setting out for dinner, I insisted on taking photos of us posing around his new house. And he was like “Wow, this is so Filipino!” HAHA! NATSUKASHII. And I was to see that my signature peace pose (the very Asian trend of flipping up the peace sign at every photo op) has caught on with my cousin. So much win.

In the evening, we tucked into our steaks at the Outback Steakhouse in Shibuya. We even sat at the same table where Roretta-chan , Jam C. and I dug into our steaks in the fall. And this point, I joked with him that our conversation had turned into one of those motivational after school specials. But he did share some wise words, and I guess you could say his talk rubbed off on me. I mean, I dusted off my old study guides for the French language proficiency test. (I haven't quite cracked them open, though.) And I even started looking up practice tests for the public service jobs back home. 

The night progressed as we ran into my friends walking down Center Gai in Shibuya. We ended up climbing seven flights of stairs, complete with rickety handrailings and precariously open picture windows. We indulged in 90 minutes of nomihoudai, thusly showing my cousin that FuJETs (and a couple of straggler Aussie boys from my friends' hostel) know how to party. 

We capped off the night with a quick venture into the seedy club, Gas Panic. It was hot and smoky, but it at least introduced me to the Black Eyed Peas' latest tune: "The Time."


Thanks for the good times, Tokyo. 

Failed escape

“Nice catchy!” yelled the fourth-grade teacher, with a big grin on her face. In both of her hands, she had a firm grasp on two six-year-olds. They had been running down the hallway during cleaning time. N-sensei was at the right place to scoop up the two tiny deviants in her arms, and escort them back to the other end of the hallway.

You are out-o.

AKB48 - Dirty girls, memorable tunes

As teachers, we shouldn't have favourites, right?! But I do. This year, I've gotta hand it over to the second-graders. When we first met, they were tiny tots. That is, they were sixth-graders in elementary school. I was their first ALT - maybe even the first foreigner they've developed some sort of friendship. 

I distinctly remember meeting Keizou-kun when he was a mere eleven-year-old, who appeared to be a mature and responsible kiddo. When a little girl got some dust on her pants during cleaning time, he carefully brushed it away with his hand. But then he got to junior high school, and he became one of the loudest and most hilarious kids ever. No longer strapped down to the notion that he had to be "mature and responsible,"he turned into a big goofball when he entered 2chu last year. I think that's fine, because kids need to be kids. They can't always be serious, right? 

Anyways, K-kun is just one of the kids who I like joking around with. And it's pretty funny to see him grow up. Last year, his pencil case was decorated with the reward stickers I would hand out during class. He racked up quite a few, and always asked me to save him the Mickey stickers in jewel tones. This year, I noticed he got rid of it and now uses a tin case to store his mechanical pencils. On the inner flap, he has carefully placed a sticker of an AKB48 member. 

Who's AKB48? I don't even know how to describe the group in a nutshell. You could say they are the latest Japanese teen girl pop sensation. There are 48 girls, in their teens and early twenties, who make up this super group. They sing catchy tunes with lyrics that don't make any sense. At first, I thought they were harmless. I tried singing "ポニーテールとシュシュ" with one of J's 12-year-old students at a local karaoke bar. And at my school festival, the school orchestra played "Akb48 Aitakatta" to the delight of the entire school population. The head boy even mimicked the popular music video, and strutted around in a school girl uniform. 

But despite their catchy tunes, the girls are completely dressed age-inappropriately. Their image is totally slaggy (as the Brits say). I finally got around to watching their music videos, and I've realized they are terrible role models. They wear skimpy clothes, and most definitely prance around like they're older than their true ages. Yuck. 

And yet, I still find myself reaching a common ground when I talk about "AKB48" with my kids. I really shouldn't encourage my students to admire this trashy group, but they're just so catchy. Kind of like my generation's love-hate relationship with Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. (Dang, I feel old).

As I was saying, I teased my poor student, saying: "Hey, K-kun! Your girlfriend?" He looked at me, and then smirked. The pencil tin was firmly shut. HA! 

But I think the funniest AKB48 moment happened yesterday. I was playing an ESL game of "Criss Cross," asking the students some assorted questions. I threw out the topic "AKB48." The rest of the class pressured me to make Ryota-kun answer the question. He blushed, but eventually declared in perfect English: "I think that AKB48 is... cute!" Everyone let out a loud "WOOOOOOOOOOO!" 

As did I. 

"Ms. Gemma doesn't have to speak perfect Japanese."

"Are you bald?" Moe-chan asked me with a smile.  You see, M-chan and I were perched over the classic board game of Guess Who. I have a small travel-sized version of it, and brought it into school this week to entice some students to play with me. To prove that I've been trying to study Japanese, I retorted with "hage!" (The Japanese word for "baldness.") When I played with the new Chinese student, she actually asked me for some clarification about English grammar. Like whoa. 

My contract says that I can consider lunch recess as my personal time. I often choose to hang out with my students. When I don't feel like "cold chatting," I come armed with tricks. Guess Who, card games, funny Youtube videos on my Mac, my iPod Touch, etc. Last year, I used to play a round of cards with the baseball team. I was popular with them, because I brought in a shiny deck of cards emblazoned with Canadian hundred dollar bills. (They were stuck playing with a deck of cards they fashioned out of paper scraps. It's against school rules for them to bring in things like candy or games, I guess.)

It still frustrates me when I can't communicate easily. When I call the taxi dispatcher, I'm pretty sure my limited Japanese makes me sound like I'm three years old. My set phrases basically translate into: "Hello. 1:30. The train station, pretty please. Thank you! Yes, the train station." 

Last week, however, the kids wrote something on their handouts. They had to practice using "doesn't have to" in their sentences. When they brought up their answers, I found that a lot of them had written "Ms. Gemma doesn't have to speak perfect Japanese." For some reason, that notion really struck a chord with me. Sure, these kids probably mimicked the sentence structure from their textbook. But still, they truly made me realize that I don't have to speak perfect Japanese! 

At a dinner this week, my supervisor remarked that my speaking skills have come along way. Even M-san said I've learned a lot! I use a lot of slang, but I mostly sound overly formal in tone. Still, it's nice to hear that my BoE thinks I've improved. And I was pretty happy when I was able to sit down on a picnic blanket at a recent sports meet, and share some stories with the mothers' of the volleyball girls. They seemed delighted when I could recognize their kids. And one mother even said she was pleased Saki was able to e-mail in English with me! 

がんばります！("I'll do my best.")

Sake, shrines and students

Loud echoes of "Seiya!" and lanterns filled the night air a couple weekends ago in Motomiya. Dressed in a green happi coat with obi and make-up in tones meant for Japanese skin, I shouted in unison with the ladies who were wearing Japanese festival outfits just like mine. There was a woman standing on a portable shrine, bouncing up and down as we carried the wooden "mikoshi" on our shoulders. The rest of our ladies' mikoshi team shouted "Seiya!" At the end of the festival, shoulders sore and head buzzing with alcohol, the shrine would meet congregate at the main intersection with two large floats. A group of men stood on the two immense floats bearing beautiful red lanterns lit up with candles. Local students milled about excitedly, screaming "Wasshoi! Wasshoi!"

I was amidst all of this chaos. Once again, I signed up for the ladies'-only team that carries a mikoshi during the fall festival. It is carried from the big shrine in downtown Motomiya, then around town. (According to the Shinto religion, this wooden portable shrine contains the divine spirit.) After what seemed like 10 minutes of carrying the mikoshi, we'd set it down and take a break. We were given all kinds of things to quench our thirst - mostly beers and Japanese sake. I love Japan, right!? 

My shoulders were sore after a bout of carrying it throughout the afternoon and early evening. And I was mostly excited to meet so many people that I knew. One of my fave former students, A-chan, joined this year's team. She's a tall girl who is now a first-year high school student. So, it really good to see her again and share the experience with her! I had seen her out shopping earlier that morning, and she was the one who told me to get toe socks for the day, lol. They fit better in the geta (Japanese footwear) we had to wear. 

I ran into the dude, who only know as "Tiger 'Oods," because he likes women?! He was at the "young people" work party we had last year, where B. and I sat in a room with 20 other twentysomethings who work at city hall. His fiancee, a really sweet girl named M-chan, took me under her wing during the festival when she realized I really had 

I saw my students: tiny tots from elementary school, the teens from junior high and even the current high school kids who I've taught in the past when they attended 2chu. Seeing all of them really made my town feel like home. Surprisingly, a lot of them approached me and even spit out some words in English. I saw Y-chan, one of the girls who used her limited English to yell "I love you, Gemma!" last month. I wished her a "Happy Birthday!" Earlier that day, I saw A-chan, one of her friends, who told me she was on her way to buy a present for Y-chan. I introduced all of my students to my friends, and made them say things like "Hello, I'm Kenta! Nice to meetchu." Cho kawaii.

The Mayumi team threw a great dinner party and after party as well. There was a hilarious drinking game, where we passed around a wooden box filled with sake. When I finally left to catch my last train, the organizers bid me adieu and pressed me to join them next year. Well, that's all, ladies. It was grand carrying the mikoshi with you down the streets of Motomiya.

I know a lot of these memories are quite detailed and perhaps mundane. But hopefully I'll remember most of the kids I've met over the years, even when I go back home.

Spooks

"Kimochi warui!" screamed K-kun, as I forced him to stick his hand into the mysterious cardboard box. I told him he was touching B's eyeballs, and the kid scrunched up his face and could only laugh at me.

Last week, I was allowed to give some lessons about Hallowe'en. For all of my classes, I told them the same "scary" story. It was the tragic tale about my friend, B., who is killed by a monster after eating his toe for dinner. I then tell the kids I have some of B's remains in a cardboard box, because the police thought it would be appropriate for me to hold onto them. I think the kids were really tickled by the story, because lots of them have either met or seen B. around town as well.

I am often impressed when my kids remember the little things I've taught them. Two years ago, I taught this song to all of the kids: "Trick or treat! Smell my feet! Give me something good to eat! Not too small! Not too big! Just the size of Montreal!" And surprisingly, I heard B-kun, who is a now a third-year student, humming it around the halls last week. (He was a tiny first-year student when I taught my Hallowe'en lessons using that song).

I'm going through a bittersweet time of "last moments in Japan." I will miss hearing a class of eager Japanese kids cheer loudly when I tell them that day's lesson is all about Hallowe'en.

Just sing, sing a song.

I've gotten into the habit of saying hello to basically any kid that I run into in my neighbourhood - at the supermarket, the laundromat, the convenience store, etc. I've been accustomed to doing greetings, since we have to do it whenever you pass someone in the hallways at school. (I've gotten my kids to stop saying "Konnichiwa" to me. They've at least started going with "Herro, Gemma-sensei!" or even just "Herro, Gemma!") The other night, I even gave a little wave to an adorable five-year-old kid who kept sneaking peeks at me while at the family restaurant up the road from me. It turns out he wasn't one of my students. His mother happily walked him over to my table, because her son was keen to do a proper aisatsu. Cute! I like to think these little interactions are a mild form of... i-n-t-e-r-n-a-t-i-o-n-a-l-i-z-a-t-i-o-n.

Last night, we ended up at one of our fave snack bars. It was actually the mama-san's (the lady who owns the bar) birthday, so lots of her customers brought in big bouquets and presents for her. One guy even brought a cake and some champagne, which we all indulged in after singing "Happy Birthday!" on karaoke. As the night progressed, the karaoke song selection got interesting. I sang Lady Gaga with the server, a girl who happens to be the teenage daughter of the mama-san. And I got a couple of song requests from one of the older men sitting at the counter. He wanted to hear TLC's "Waterfalls" and "Last Christmas" from me. Popular hits in Japan, ayo! I also threw on John Denver's "Take me home, country roads" and the Carpenters' "Sing." These two songs are sung in my first-year classes at school, so I knew they are pretty popular among the Japanese public and ideal karaoke songs.

Let the world sing along.

Shaddap.

H-kun fell flat on his face the other day. And I laughed really hard. I know, I know! I've got the teacher honorific attached to my name. I should be more professional right? But this was just plain funny.

I decided to hang out with the first-year kiddos at recess the other day. There's a little outdoor walkway on the second floor, where they like to hang out when the weather's nice. H-kun thought it would be funny to do front rolls and cartwheels. Indeed, this isn't ideal behaviour in the hallway. Still, I stood around to see what would unfold. 

Every time he psyched himself up for a cartwheel, his friends on lookout would yell: "Hey, teacher!!" And every time, H-kun got flustered and fell on his face. I think this kid watches too many movies on satellite TV, because H-kun would then look over his shoulder and retort: "Shut up!" in English. He is the same kid who told me: "See you, baby!" when he was a mere fifth-grader two years ago in elementary school.

I was pleased that he used English to get some peace. Maybe it w/asn't the nicest way to say it, but it was in English. Funny how I have to grasp at straws, eh.

I know, I know. I'm a teacher. I shouldn't condone such behaviour. Shut up?!

懐かしい - Nostalgia

Two summers ago, I found myself sitting on a black leather couch across from my new bosses. They welcomed B. and I into the Board of Education, telling us in Japanese that we could call on them any time for help. They urged us to do our best when working with the children of our small city. I looked outside my bossman's window, and could see the Japanese flag waving outside. I was wearing my dark grey pinstripe pencil skirt from Club Monaco, paired with a short-sleeved black collared shirt and my Aldo pumps. I was sweating, due to the sheer humidity and the anxiety about being dropped into a new world.

When I visited home last June, some of my friends asked if I was going to be bored living in the same Japanese city for yet another year. Throughout my years living here, I've sent them e-mails and photos illustrating the life I've created for myself amongst the rice paddies. I definitely live in the sticks. The nearest Starbucks (and hey, I was a major Starbucks fiend back home) is in the next city over. And there is no known pizza delivery in my area.

But I can say that Motomiya has truly nestled a special place in my heart. I appreciate the sheer beauty of this place -- be it the people and the picturesque landscape. Cicadas chirp throughout the day and night in the summertime. Hundreds of rice paddies are currently a beautiful lush green. And the kids have made my time here absolutely magical. I'm going to miss the hundreds and hundreds of kids I've met over the past few years here. Even the naughty kids. Like the senior baseball captain who pays no attention in English class. (Ironically, I got along fabulously with his senpai last year. Last year's baseball team members were my absolute faves! We played cards together and everything, lol).

Last month, my friends and I checked out our city's little summer festival. Basically, the main drag was dotted with various food stalls and carnival games. It literally took two minutes to walk from one end of the festivities to the last stall. But we enjoyed ourselves, because we all ran into some of our students.

A group of high schoolers kept looking my way, so I called them over to say hello. (I recognized them from my first year as an ALT here. They were seniors at 2chu, so I only taught them for about eight months.)

As they stood in front of me this evening, dressed in their civvies, I tried remembering all of their names. Surprisingly, I only forgot about Tomo-kun and I was able to guess Taka-kun's name with some hints. The boys and Y-chan screeched, "懐かしい!" I guess that can be loosely translated as "Like whoa, old memories!" I can't believe they're so big now! They go to high schools in the area. Sadly, they still can't really speak English. I believe they understand what I'm saying, but they can't express their answers in basic English. I asked them things like "So, what club activities do you do?" And all Taka-kun could reply was: "No!!!" He was trying to tell me he doesn't do club activities any more. Oh, dear. Although their English hasn't drastically improved, I was delighted to see them. It's crazy to think I saw them as tiny junior high school students. Now, they're getting closer to graduating from high school and moving onto bigger things.


It was also interesting seeing my current junior high schoolers at the festival. Like their older counterparts, they weren't in uniform. The older girls were clicking down the street in their heels and  jumpsuits. The boys were strutting in cargo shorts and tees. I even teased three of my girls, because they were wearing Engrish t-shirts. I asked them to do some quick self-introductions with my friends. After they obliged, I sent them along on their way. :) 


Two friends said something meaningful that night to me. I can't quite pinpoint the words, but they said had been watching me fluttering around the festival. And they remarked I was really good at interacting with my students. I'm really appreciative of hearing such praise! It makes me miss my little nieces and nephews back home. I also have a godson, but I barely know the kiddo. So, I'm pretty excited to do what I've gotta do in Japan... and then I'll be heading home at the end of the year! WOO HOO!

As a JET, my job isn't strictly in the realm of teaching English. It's about making the these Japanese students, who live in such a homogeneous society, learn how to interact with foreigners. "Grassroots internationalization" is one of the JET Programme's buzzwords drilled into our heads.

Snapshots: Back to school

"Gemma-sensei! Gemma-sensei!!" hissed one of my third-graders from the hallway. I was sitting at my desk, mostly focusing on fanning myself amidst the heat. It took me a couple seconds for me to snap out of my daze. When I finally did, the loud third-grader yelled "HERRO!!!!" then ran away. Kids do the funniest things.

*

School is indeed back in session. Things kicked off at the end of August. This summer, the heat is intoxicating. You'd think we'd have some air conditioning at school, right? But no. Everyone was sweating, and everyone looked miserable in the humidity. Funnily enough, there was a memo going around the office saying students were being granted permission to bring cold tea, sports drinks and water to school. (In general, kids aren't allowed to bring thermoses and bottled drinks to school. Even their lunch is supplied by the local school lunch center!) The drink allowance was an effort to prevent dozens of kids from fainting in the heat. This point was once again reiterated at the school assembly, but the teacher reminded them each student is responsible for their own trash. It's funny how mundane things are such big announcements around the office water cooler. (I made a funny.)

*

Three years ago, I was part of the opening ceremonies in August.This is an assembly wherein the principal gives a talk to help inspire the students.

I remember sitting in a chair next to Y-sensei. Waves of anxiety washed over me only when I saw about 300 students walk into the gym. It was the first time I saw all of my them. I got nervous as I heard them shuffling their chairs into orderly lines. It was overwhelming to see all of these Japanese faces stare at me, as I fumbled through my introductory speech.

On to my third year... like whoa!

Really old Christmas cake.

I just wrapped up a really nice Skype chat with my family. I tore open my presents and cards from them on video chat! Isn't technology amazing?

Tomorrow, I will be celebrating my 26th birthday. I really can't believe that this will be my 3rd birthday celebration in Japan... time flies when you're having fun, eh!

Two years ago, I was a fresh-faced noob who was dropped off into the depths of the Japanese countryside. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I didn't have an Internet connection nor phone, so my parents called the Board of Education. The entire office racked their brains, putting my mom on hold three times in an effort to fully understand her message. How cute!! But I'm glad that I was able to Skype them this time around, so I could hear their birthday greetings myself. If you want to read about it, I wrote about my 24th birthday here: http://gemmainjapan.blogspot.com/2008/09/aug-19-20-tanjobi-omedeto-to-me-blog.html

Last year, I had one of the best birthday extravaganzas ever. On the weekend, I invited about 35 of my closest friends to the Asahi Beer Garden. We feasted over meat and unlimited drinks for two hours. We would continue the party in Koriyama, where more drinks were consumed. I sadly left my delicious brownies, personally made by D-kun, in someone's car. I got insane texts from M. at 7 a.m., asking me where he left his backpack. (I should also add that I walked over to the nearest police station, because he initially wanted me to meet him there and show him back to S's slumber party). And the infamous incident wherein A. lost his shirt. Crazy shenanigans were had by all. Even my school knew that I had a ridiculous party, because the school baseball team saw us rocking up to the beer garden. Of course, I insisted on taking photos with the boys (and their mothers!) For more information, look here: http://gemmainjapan.blogspot.com/2009/08/twenty-five-candles.html.

I guess we'll just have to see what this year holds.

You know you're in Fuku...

Tuesday marked the last day of my epic trip to Kyushu with R-chan. I’ll write more about it later, don’t you worry. Anyways, I think I took all kinds of transport to get back to home sweet home in Fuku: two cab rides, one flight, one monorail ride and one ride on the faithful shinkansen.

When we got to K-town, I placed my bags down on the local platform. The beige bag contained my laptop case and some Japanese textbooks. The overstuffed overnight bag contained about six days’ worth of clothes and souvenirs. (Note to self: That Muji bag is not meant for 7.36 kilograms of stuff. My poor shoulder!)

While ordering a taxi cab on my phone, I saw two of my former students. I taught them for a few months before they graduated from JHS two years ago. I don’t really remember their names, but I always make it a point to greet any of my kids when I see them out and about. They giggled when I started talking to them in English. So, I tried spitting out some of the Japanese I learned over my two-week course in Kyushu. They were tickled pink when they heard me use some advanced grammar points. I'm guessing they were surprised, because I couldn't speak a lick of Japanese two years ago. 

It was interesting to hear them refer to me as “sensei.” I often forget that I'm a teacher! HA. These two students, in particular, asked me what I had been doing over summer vacation.  As we boarded the train, I told them about my trip to Kyushu. I tried having some English small talk with them, but it was painful. I did learn what high school they both attend. But they couldn’t understand simple questions like “Do you play the guitar?” (One of the kids had his guitar case strapped to his back.) Wow, epic fail! Just shows that English isn't the top priority for all of my students, eh. Living in the countryside, I can see how some kids aren't motivated to try any harder.

I guess that's how many kids in Canada feel about learning French as a second language... C'est la vie.

You say good-bye, and I say hello

Sticky floors, hellos and good-byes and people looking young and old crammed into the good ol' Big Apple bar in Fuku last night. Can't believe it's been a year since M. and I threw the Leavers' Party last summer, bidding adieu to the senpai and fellow noobs who shaped awesome memories from my first year living in Japan. 

This year, we chose the "diaper" theme for the night. I envisioned people dressed as old and young folk. I dressed in a floral muumuu and floppy hat, both purchases I made from Shimizu (aka the "ugly clothing store.")  Not everyone felt fierce enough to dress up... But the bottom line - I think a good time was had by all. The cheap booze was flowing, some people dressed up in diapers, one friend shaved a nice bald spot for himself and we all ended the night dancing to bumpin' house tunes at Neo. It was really good to see some friends I haven't seen in months, including M. Two years ago, we shared a hotel room at the Keio Plaza during Tokyo Orientation.

Some JETs are now in the midst of packing up and going home. Every day, my Facebook page is inundated with status updates with people announcing their upcoming departure. It's weird. Most of the girls that I bonded with in our first year are gearing up to go home. We somewhat lost touch over recent months, but we'll always have those inside jokes from our crazy times as noobs. ("Guys, I don't think he had teeth!!") The girls are now looking forward to reunions with family, friends and maybe even post-grad studies. I really do wish them all the best. I think they'll be happy going back home. And for now, I think I'm happiest staying in Japan for one more year.

Being on JET, you get used to saying farewell to people. Students graduate in March. Teachers transfers to different schools. And Fuku ALTs finish their contracts. I still haven't fully grasped that some of my JET friends will be leaving in the next two or three weeks. Next year, that'll be me who will be prepped to leave. (That's right, kids. You heard it first here... I'm most definitely coming home after my third year.)

I'm sure a lot of my family and friends are wondering why I've decided to sign up for a third (and final) year. I mean, I still don't understand the language. I don't want to be a teacher back home. And I'm terrible at saving money here. (I don't even go out as much anymore... but my yennies are going towards trips and such). So, yes, my job has its ups-and-downs. I can't exactly justify why I'm staying another year. I guess I'm just not ready to leave yet. The kids, except for a handful of lazy ones who don't care about English class, are still adorable. The biggest flaw being that I feel underused in the workplace. There are several hours during the week where I just sit at my desk, twiddling my thumbs.

However, when things are good... things are good. It's the little things that make me feel like I'm comfortable here. When a six-year-old shyly approaches me in class, to ask me in Japanese if I remember seeing him while I was on a walk around his neighbourhood last weekend. When the staff at my local MOS Burger bow and profusely thank me for the small gift bag of Canadian pins I gave them last week. That's awesome. When I can sort of decipher the Japanese characters on a pink invite left on my desk in the teachers' room. That's awesome. (The invite is for some drinking party next week. I don't know what we're celebrating, but I've asked my JTE to sign me up.)

Overall, I'm still keen to be in a classroom looking over Japanese kiddos. In the first-year classes, the students happen to kick off English lessons by singing some relevant Beatles' lyrics: "You say good-bye, and I say hello."

Funnily enough, that basically sums up my life right now. I've got some people who are getting ready to say good-bye and head off to greener pastures. Meanwhile, I'm quite content staying in Japan... where "I say hello" to every student when they walk past me in the hallways. (No, literally! In Japan, you're expected to greet everyone in the hallway. Most teachers and students exchange "Konnichiwas." But I've finally got all of my JHS kids saying "HARRO!" to me in their imperfect English. Some have even adopted the little wave that I flash to them).

Different ways to be lost in translation

An elderly Japanese man traces an oval-shape in the air with his finger, all the while making a buzzing sound. Bill Murray looks at him, dumbfounded. Both are attempting to make small talk in the hospital's waiting room. Murray's character mimics the stranger's gestures, but the meaning is lost.

*

It’s a scene from “Lost in Translation,” a critically-acclaimed fictional movie following the lives of two people trying to weave their way within Tokyo’s hustle and bustle. I’ve watched it twice now, each time developing a deeper admiration for it. Sure, it’s filled with clichés. But I have faced a lot of the same cultural challenges living in the Japanese countryside. I mean, I am slowly picking up bits and pieces of the language. But it’s hard. When I call the taxi dispatcher, I use the fewest words possible. When I order food in the restaurant, I still point to the pictures in the menu and say: “Kore o hitotsu, onegaishimasu!” (“This one, please.”) When the phone rings in the staffroom,  I don't answer it.

The other day, one of my elementary school students was pulled out of class. K-kun was perched over his worksheets, mumbling something like “wakkanai” as he tried to work out his kanji homework. At first glance, he seems like your typical eight-year-old boy. He keeps his pencils in a red “Robot Monsters” pencil case. His loose leaf papers are tucked into a plastic file folder emblazoned with a cute Pikachu cartoon. He has typical Asian features – black hair and brown eyes.

But if you delve in deeper, you’ll see that he’s a foreigner, just like me, in Japan. He is Chinese. (JET Programme's groundbreaking keyword: internationalization. Expect the unexpected, Japan! Foreigners come in all shapes and sizes. That's the concept we're supposed to spread amongst our communities as international ambassadors).

Every morning, an assistant teacher comes to school and attends classes with him. She breaks down the lesson in Chinese, because he doesn’t have a complete grasp of the Japanese language. She even sits beside him during my English lessons, because he doesn’t understand a lick of English.

His family moved here in March. I spoke with his mother, because met them in Japanese class one Thursday night. (It took me a few weeks to realize he was one of my kids from work!)



I wonder what it’s like… to be in a country where you can at least recognize the characters, but you might not be able to communicate freely. (Both Chinese and Japanese use kanji, but the characters most likely have different meanings/readings). Can he make friends easily? Does he understand the lessons?

*
As the school lunch hour quickly approached, K-kun hurriedly finished his kanji worksheet. I slid him a sticker as a reward, so he plucked it from me while saying “ARIGATOU!”

And you might be wondering what the Japanese grandfather asks Bill Murray's character. He wonders how long Murray's been in Japan, and tries to enhance his query by gesturing out an airplane travelling through the sky.

 For me, it has taken almost two years of living here to slowly grasp an understanding of all things Japanese - be it the people, the language and the customs.

He said with a smile :)

A vision of bright pink, one of my former students was wearing a neon pink plaid shirt that he accessorized with a pink watch. This was a drastic change from the previous year, when he lived in the school uniform. (He would later tell me he borrowed the flashy watch from his younger sister, because it matched the outfit).

It was the cultural festival at my school last fall, so Y-kun took the opportunity to roam the halls where he spent his formative years as a junior high school student. He proudly wore his civvies, surrounded by his little fan club of J.H.S. admirers who wondered what life was liked as a full-fledged high school student.

Y-kun will always be one of my students who will vividly stick out in my memory. Two years ago, as an extremely inexperienced ALT, I felt nervous when trying to talk with my students. Y-kun was a pint-sized senior student who was unafraid to approach me. With his trademark smile and confidence, he was one of the first students who said: "Hello, Gemma-sensei!!!" when I started poking my head around the school during lunch recess. I could sense his enthusiasm for the English language, as he tried to his best to use his textbook English.

Last weekend, he popped up at my school again. He stood in front of a curious group of students on the cusp of graduating from junior high. He was one of the three speakers invited to share their pearls of wisdom at an information meeting for the kiddos.They scribbled notes as Y-kun and two girls talked about school life. Not surprisingly, the kiddos were particularly interested in hearing about club activities. What time did they finish? What clubs could you join? Etc. To think that club activities play such as integral role in shaping their lives, eh.

He easily caught the attention of his audience, barely looking down at his notes and speaking from the heart! I was able to catch him before he left the school... And with a smile, he told me he'll be part of the upcoming homestay programme that brings Fukushima students over to Canada and the United States.

Happy Baaaaarthday to you!

Over the weekend, I got an e-mail from one of my students. I don't get a lot of regular e-mail from my students, because I've only handed it out to select few this year. So, it's pretty exciting to see what's new!

Subject heading? "A Happy Day." Here's what the newly minted 15-year-old had to say:

"Ｄear Ｇemma SEMSEI

Hello!!

Today is my birthday(≧▽≦）☆ !!!

ヾ(≧∇≦*)/やったぁ♬♬ ♬♬."
What a cutiepatootie! Her excitement was contagious, so I sent her an electronic birthday card. I chose an adorable Spongebob-themed card with a simple English message. She loved it!

The birthday greetings continued in class today, after I read K-kun's in-class assignment. I learned that his birthday was also over the weekend. I loudly wished him a "Happy Birthday!" and he nodded with a smile. But then S-kun overheard, and led the class in a rousing rendition of "Happy Baaaaarthday!" K-kun laughed, his cheeks obviously flushed.

He dropped his head onto his desk, as his fellow classmates continued to clap loudly for him. I can sort of see why the kids treat me like an older sister, not a teacher. I like to cause slightly embarrassing moments for them!

Ageha, we meet again.

The girls and I spent our time primping and preening in front of the bathroom mirrors at our usual hostel in Shinjuku. The rest of the floor was quiet, given that we paid the extra few yennies to spend the weekend on the "luxury" floor vacant of that awful smell of stinky feet found on the co-ed floors. True story.

With lots of help from H's steady hand, I was able to apply some black-and-gold false eyelashes to match our big night out. A bunch of FuJETs had travelled down to Tokyo last Friday night, because we wanted to celebrate some birthdays with some hip hop tunes at Ageha, the biggest club in Japan.

Going to the mammoth-sized club takes commitment. It's about 30 minutes outside of Tokyo, leaving you with limited options to get back to the city proper at a decent hour. About 20 FuJETs showed up at around midnight, and people were only beginning to trickle into the venue. There was a 500-yen discount being offered if you showed the Ageha application on your iPhone or iTouch. Like some of my friends bearing iTouches only, we pathetically showed that we couldn't access wiFi but that we had previously downloaded the app. The bouncer, who spoke in flawless English, said he would give us the discount that one time. Oh, so elitist!

The club itself seems to be tucked away in a rather industrial area on the waterfront. It includes various warehouses all linked together. The first area has an expansive bar and VIP section, serving overpriced cocktails and other concoctions. As you walk further, you can walk into the large dance pit. This is where an array of DJs continuously played solid set after set. It was even fun to hear classics from Rihanna and Drake re-played by various DJs, because I rarely go clubbing in Fukushima. Outdoors, reggae tunes were blaring at poolside From there, you can watch the sun rise over the waterfront at 4 a.m. Ageha knows it's an all-night affair, and even has food service tents. We tried the jerk chicken sandwiches to quench our hunger pains at 3 a.m.

As the sun rose, the FuJETs stepped out into the fresh air. I swear, the sun was fully out by the time we crossed the bridge to the nearest train station. We caught the first subway at 5 a.m., and even slow-clapped a Japanese dude and his girlfriend who sprinted and hopped onto the subway at the last moment.

There's something about Tokyo that gets me every time. On Saturday, we woke up late and ate top-notch sandwiches at Zip Zap, a cute cafe nestled in Harajuku that boasts "good booze and very delicious food." Sitting on the mildly damp grass and mosquito-laced air in Yoyogi Park, I caught up with people. We even saw our darling friend, H., with whom I tried to teach Spanish. I wasn't a very good teacher, leaving him saying things like "siente, ocho, nine, ten!" HAHA. We would indulge in vegetarian food in Azajuban, then share some laughs over an evening coffee on a Starbucks balcony.

On Sunday, we grabbed a quick bite at another cafe in Harajuku. This time, my cafe latte was delightfully topped with heart-shaped foam! I love that. The girls and I also dropped by one of my favourite cat cafes, Chamamo, which was right across the street. This is a small "cafe" within an office building. For less than 1,000 yen, you can sip on a beverage and play with cats for 30 minutes. It sounds weird, but it's always nice to chill with affectionate pets! But I guess it's a little weird that I have been there three or four times now. I even have some favourite cats - and I don't even really like cats. Growing up, I've always wanted to own a Yorkshire terrier.

I wrapped up my whirlwind tour of Tokyo with a brief visit to a local souvenir shop, then crossed the street, where this time, I easily found the BAPE store tucked behind the Omotesando Hills building. (Sorry, brother - I didn't buy you anything else! I only wanted to check out the second and third floor of the building. Last time, I only looked around the basement.)

The mad dash to my cheap highway bus was slightly nerve-wracking, but I was satisfied when I made it. I mean, the savings you earn after taking the bus and not the shink! Yet another splendid weekend in Tokyo... The only dark spot was losing my camera at the hostel. I should really stop relying on the kindness of others in returning my lost belongings (luggage on a Japanese subway train, foreigner card, etc.) I learned an expensive lesson that day!

2:18

I've been teaching at the local junior high school and two neighbouring elementary schools in Motomiya for almost two years now. Sometimes, I can't believe how fast time slips by. At JHS alone, I think I've taught about 500 students. And I can't even tell you how many cute, little Japanese kids I've met at the elementary schools.

While I've never really joined in their club activities, I do my best to learn all of their names and some of their stories. As a result, I think I'll start writing profiles of the ones who I've somewhat gotten to know over the past few months...

***

Sweat dripping off his forehead, Te-chan looked down at the stopwatch he had grasped in his left hand. He shook his head, and walked off the track for a quick rest. I praised him for his efforts, as I had been watching the track team doing laps around the dirt soccer field.

"I fail!" he said with a chuckle. This was coming from a kid whose personal best is 2:18 when running the 800-metre track event. (I don't know all that much about running, but that's a pretty good time in my books).

Te-chan continued to rifle through a plastic basket, looking for some new spikes to attach to his running shoes. He took this opportunity to ask me some questions in English. Bless his little heart! He even asked if I liked running, but I had to laugh and truthfully say no.

I see a bright future for this kid. Even though he's only 14 years old, he has already demonstrated he's a natural-born leader. This year, he is the vice president of the student council. He is also the captain for the boys' soccer team. When he's not the captain for the track team, you can hear him loudly screaming, "ICHI! NI! SAN!" as he weaves the soccer team in an orderly running fashion around the soccer field.

He wants to go to Asaka Reimei, one of the more prestigious high schools in Koriyama. They expect only the cream of the crop, and I've heard the English component of their entrance examinations is killer. But I have confidence in Te-chan. He can do it. I've seen how his skills in reading, writing and speaking English have increasingly improved since I first met him.

Two years ago, I rang the doorbell of my landlord's house because I needed some help. Te-chan, who was a mere 1年生 (that is, a 7th-grade student), shyly curried away from the door and whispered to his older siblings: "Gemma-sensei!! Gemma-sensei!!" My landlord happens to have a family of four kids - A-kun (who graduated in March 2008); Te-chan (who will be graduating in March 2010) and little M-kun (who just started his first year at JHS). They also have an older sister, but I've never taught her.

Now, Te-chan isn't scared to speak in English with me. He's the friendly kid who will strike up a conversation with me in the hallways or the classroom. He's the kid who has a lot of admirable drive. He's the kid who used an in-class freewrite session to express his honest opinion on the dilapidated building we call 2chu. He's the kid who runs laps in the evenings, even after spending all afternoon running up and down the soccer field during club activities. He's the kid who can run 800 metres in 2:18.

"No Zone! Don't touch!"

Today I played in the dirt with some of the 2年生 boys. They were removing the weeds and tulips from their homeroom's little plot of dirt, paving the way for the incoming marigolds we'll be planting in the near future.

S-chan (one of my fave boys - and he knows it!) was crouched over the garden, and looked up with his darling eyes: "Gemma-sensei! Help, please!" How I could I resist!

About five of us were busy poking through the dirt. My hand started tugging on a tulip, which looked liked its time was up. But the boys interjected, "No Zone! Don't touch! No Zone!" That was clutch, kiddos. They showed me the areas they wanted uprooted. K-kun even said: "Leaf. Get!" While their English skills are clearly quite limited, I was touched that they were trying to communicate with me!

And then, I learned that boys will be boys. As they were sifting through the soil with their fingers and shovels, someone found a couple earthworms. I tried not to react as they inched the worms closer to my personal bubble. But if you know me, I had to shriek: "Gross!!! Ew!!! Gross!!" They laughed and clapped. Kan-kun proceeded to chop the worms up into halves. Gross!!

I taught them a new word, though: "worm." In return, I learned the word, "みみず." I don't like worms. But those kids do. They were tickled when I recalled their interest in fishing around the local rivers, particularly Gohyakugawa and Abukumagawa. K-kun forgot the word for "river," and insisted that he enjoyed fishing in the ocean. Well, I guess that's possible! The Pacific Ocean is located about two hours away from Motomiya, in the city of Iwaki...

If they try to put another worm in my face, I'll naturally yell at them: "No Zone! Don't touch!"

Thank you, Tokyo Metro

It was the last leg of my whirlwind Golden Week trip to Tokyo. I was standing on my homeward-bound train, weighed down with an excessive amount of baggage: a carry-on suitcase with wheels; my trusty gray Gap shoulder bag; a paper bag filled with overpriced Tokyo chocolates; and finally, a medium-sized overnight bag containing my boots and assorted souvenirs.

In the window's reflection, I saw a lady sitting behind me and peering at my bags. She leaned over to her friend, whispering "Sugoi ne..." Loosely translated? She was commenting on my excess baggage. I couldn't agree more.

Earlier that day, I hopped into a subway car bound for Tokyo Station. I did a quick count - 4 bags. But then I felt uneasy, so I hopped back onto the platform and confirmed directions from the stationmaster. He pointed me to another train, which would head in my desired direction. So, I sat down. But then... 1, 2, 3. I think my heart dropped for a second.

Not because I lost my fourth bag. In my experience, lost items eventually find their way back to their rightful owners in Japan. I know this sounds complacent, but it has rung true for me on more than one occassion.

In fact, I was overwhelmingly concerned that this obstacle would stop me from catching my highway bus bound for home. Weird, eh. Back in Canada, I'd definitely be more concerned about losing my bag forever.

Anyways, I rushed back to the platform and told the stationmaster with slight panic that I had lost my bag on the 3:36 p.m. Using his radio, he was able to track my bag at a nearby station within 10-15 minutes. I don't know who brought it back. An honest commuter who saw it lying on the floor? One of the subway staff? I'll never know. Bottom line - I was happy to get my stuff back. There was lots of bowing, "sumimasen deshita!" and "domo arigatou gozaimasu!" I hopped on another subway, in the hopes of being reunited with my bag.

When I got there, I thought the stationmaster told me to walk outside and look for the Lost and Found Office. (I really need to amp up my Japanese!) So, there I was wandering around the sidewalk. A few minutes later, some staff emerged outside and were obviously looking for me. As we walked downstairs together, they insisted on grabbing my bags for me. Such kind people!

I filled out some paperwork, which involved writing my address in terrible kanji. The clerk looked over my efforts with amusement, haha. He then helped me carry my bags to the other platform, bound for Tokyo Station. More bowing and "domo arigatou gozaimasu" followed on my part. He kindly smiled, telling me to take care: "気をつけて!" 

Can't believe I almost left my bag in Tokyo. Thank you, Tokyo Metro!

Let's exploring

Last year, I travelled a lot. I wanted to do everything, see everything. I crashed on S's living room every weekend in Koriyama last fall. I didn't have a problem staying out all night in Fukushima, only to find a couple hours of slumber in a karaoke box. And I yearned for the sleepless nights in Tokyo, eating McDonald's at six a.m. while waiting for the first train out of Shibuya.

This year, I travelled a bit. But I regret not exploring all that much more. I shouldn't complain, I know. My Japanese bosses and co-workers often marvel at how much I leave the city. A-sensei remembered how I distributed small packages specially-flavoured dried seaweed to my BoE people, after my trip to Seoul last Golden Week.

So, I'm wondering what can I be thankful for discovering this year...

Feeling desperation and stupidity while clambering up the volcanic rocks of Mt. Fuji last July. Seeing the bright lights of Tokyo with the noobs in the summer. Waiting in lines at Disney Sea with the girls in Tokyo last September. Seeing the colourful autumn transformation in Nikko in November -- content and alone. Showed a chilhood friend the nooks and crannies of Tokyo. Doing the FuJET trips as the fearful leader - being reunited with the soccer pitches in Nagano and the snow streetscapes of Sapporo. And of course, my well-needed trip back home where I did nothing but slept, watched satellite television, ate fatty foods, hung out with my family and occassionally saw my ol' friends.

So, what are my travel goals for the next few months? I'd like to solidify my plans for Fukuoka. I want to study Japanese there for two weeks. I'm also rather keen to visit: the Philippines, Okinawa, Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, Hong Kong and Malaysia. My list is rather fluid, so I'm sure I'll add more destinations as time goes on.

Where my Noguchis at?

Spring has sprung... a leak.

The photo above was taken on a chilly, overcast day in Motomiya. I remember it clearly, because it was payday. After we were finished our business at the Board of Education, B. and I took a quick drive over to a nearby pond at "Flowerland." There was a swan gliding through the water. The cherry blossoms were starting to bloom, enhancing the park with a wash of light pink. It seemed like spring had finally sprung!

But the following morning, I pulled open my curtains and was surprised to see huge snowflakes coming from the sky. I had to dig out my ol' windshield scraper to brush off the thick layer of snow on my car. Everyone shivered at school, because we had already disassembled our usual source of heat: the old kerosene stoves. The other teachers were telling me they hadn't seen such snowy weather in late April since forty years ago. Thank you, Mother Nature. It also didn't help that a few days ago, we had another fresh coat of snow dumped all over the city. In addition to that, we felt a minor earthquake at 6:30 in the morning, which woke me up from my slumber. Eee... bad news bears!

Cherry blossom viewing ("hanami") viewing parties are a focal part of springtime in Japan. It's an excuse for people to gather underneath the trees to take in nature's beauty... and enjoy each other's company while indulging on alcohol and good food. A few weeks ago, I went to Fukushima-shi for the second annual "Sakura" (cherry blossoms) BBQ. Sadly, we were the only ones at the park. It was a blustery day, and the trees were bare. Fortunately, we ate lots of delicious Brazilian BBQ. Last week, another hanami party was held at the picturesque Tsurugajo, a castle in the city of Aizuwakamatsu. But I ended up skipping it, because I couldn't bring myself to driving 1.5 hours to sit outside on a slightly chilly day.

As a result, my cherry blossom tradition has been hampered quite a bit this year! Fortunately, I viewed some of the blossoms before the rain and snow started pelting the poor delicate things. This year, I took a leisurely hike at Hanamiyama Park in Fukushima-shi; Mizuiro Park, which also has sweet water installments, in Motomiya; and Jana no Hana Land (Flowerland) near my house.

I've been doing some light Googling, and I've just realized I have been telling lies to some of my teachers. They've asked if we have cherry blossoms in Canada... and I said there might be a handful of trees in Vancouver. But it turns out that there is even a cherry blossom festival held there every year! My bad.

If tomorrow's another overcast day, I won't be too bothered. I took the day, giving me a wonderful 7-day hiatus from work. (We have a bunch of consecutive national holidays - thank you, Golden Week!)

The perks of being different

Last week, I grabbed a to-go meal from MOS Burger. I asked for my usual, which includes: an iced tea, a cheeseburger and an onion ring-potato fries set. When the store manager emerged from behind the counter, he handed over my brown baggie. In addition, he discreetly gave me a small cardboard box containing a brand-new tumbler for my drinks. “Cup, cup!” he told me. I think that the burger joint is having some kind of promotion involving tumblers, but I got one on the house!

As I'm the lone foreigner in my neighbourhood, the local people have taken notice of me. I’ve written about this odd – yet flattering – recognition for most ALTs in a small town. Weirdly enough, it means that the store clerk ringing up my bottle of plum wine is most likely the mother of two of my students. But it also means that I get a lot of free stuff.

There was a grandmotherly stooped over her garden last year. She gestured me to come over, asking for some help to bring her sleeves up. As a gesture of gratitude, she sent me on my way home with a couple ears of fresh corn picked from her square plot of and.

For the longest time, my local car garage referred to me as “sensei” (teacher). (I finally read out the Romanized letters for them). They always provide me with some tea and cookies, while I wait for them to inspect my car. Moreover, they never charge me for assessments, and I didn’t have to pay when they fixed my seatbelt for me! That’s service. Last week, they also gave me a free box of kleenex, with the garage's logo printed on the side. (Japan is all about giving out free tissues.)

I also have a string of local taxi drivers who shuttle me between my house and the train station. One of my favourites has to be the dude who is fascinated with Canada and the English language. He remembers all of my trips, too! Last time I saw him, I gave him a small Canadian pin. In return, he insisted that he shave off about 500 yen from cab fare. Bless him!

Of course it's not always rosy when you're different. There's a certain cab driver who furiously honks his horn outside of my apartment, despite arriving a good 5-7 minutes before my desired time. I can tell he hates it when I ask him for a quick drive over to the station; in fact, I think he purposely takes the long way there, ha.

Nevertheless, the good trumps the bad. I appreciate all the little things people do to make me feel welcome.

Rookies

I saw two kids faint and two kids turn pale in the school gymnasium last week. (It took a team of four teachers to delicately carry one kid out of the gym!) Sadly, I’m getting used to this scene in our school’s dilapidated gym. I mean, our walls are paper thin, barely shielding us from the April chill. Moreover, the students had to sit rigidly in their wooden seats -- face forward, knees locked at a 90-degree angle, with the boys forming tight fists with their hands. They sat there for more than an hour, listening to city officials and other ViPs congratulate kids for making it into the 7th-grade.

Oh, to be back in school! The new academic term in Japan starts in April for all junior highs. Sometimes, I can’t believe that I’m watching my second round of opening exercises…

**

The little ones came to school on a Tuesday, dressed in their brand-new uniforms and yellow running shoes. It was the first day of school for junior high school students across Japan. At my base school, the incoming first-year kiddos happen to be the recent elementary schools graduates from my two visit schools! So, I’ve helped teach these kids English since they were in Grade 5.

The senior students congregated in the gym early this morning, practicing the loudness of their singing and applause. They were also briefly introduced to the three new staff at our school – the new principal, school nurse and English teacher. After they were excused from the gym, the incoming first-years were soon invited inside to the gym.

At the morning practice, the homeroom teachers coached the rookies on how to properly march into the gym two-by-two. Next, the kids had to learn how to properly take their seats. (The homeroom teacher stands at the front, and gives them a deep bow. Only then can those students sit down. They didn’t get it at first). Also, a bunch of kids kept bowing when they first entered the gym. In Japanese, the adults explained: “Only the teachers bow then! OK?! Only the teachers!”

Their fumbles made me smile. Soon, they’ll get the hang of it. Their footing will follow a certain rhythm. Their spacing will be just right. Their bowing will be bodacious. The girls will learn to wear knee-high white socks, not just ankle length ones. I give it a couple more weeks. Then, they’ll be experts.

Say what?

In the midst of my spring cleaning, I found some interesting scraps of paper. I had copied down some of the funny Engrish I've stumbled upon this year, while correcting my students' attempts at writing in English:

"My family was planting rice all day. I washed the rice box. My mother washed the rice box, too. My brother H carried the rice box. But my brother M went to high school."

"I went to Y's home. It was dangerous there. Many game on the Yuji room."

"We Sunday morning. Weed the school. Very tired. Tree on the beetle. Afternoon is D and S. with. Let's go to Koriyama to play with Yodobashi Kamera."

Kids say the darndenest things.

Also, my spring cleaning is becoming an epic fail. I'd rather sit down and watch episodes of America's Next Best Dance Crew, Season 5. It's dope.

Getting to know your co-workers

It's not unusual for me to pick up a mic, and croon to the latest tunes of Rihanna. I love karaoke! But on a Friday night, I found myself singing out "You can stand under my umbrella! ella! ella! ay! ay! ay!" for my fellow co-workers. They laughed and clapped, saying that my English pronunciation is impeccable. Earlier that night, I also sang "I Will Survive" for my staff. Did I mention that another school was also holding their party at the same snack bar? It was fantastic!

Work relations in Japan are usually cemented at these drinking parties: enkais. In March and April, Japanese restaurants and snack bars are booked up with enkais - even on the weekdays. In recent weeks, I've attended about three enkais. At Nichu, five teachers were transferred to other placements - so, we had a good-bye enkai. At my Board of Education, three people are leaving, including our oh-so-lovable M-san - so, we had a farewell enkai. And yesterday, we needed an enkai to welcome the three new incoming staff at Nichu. This includes a new thirtysomething dude who will now be my co-teacher.

The enkai usually kicks off with everyone seated around tables set low to the ground. You sit on your knees, because it's a sign of respect. (It hurts after a while!) We listen to various speeches. Then, everyone raises a glass to do the "kanpai!"((cheers). Two hours are spent on eating unlimited amounts of food and drink. At my school, most people end up drinking oolong tea. But there were six of us teachers who ask to the keep the alcohol flowing. Interestingly enough at enkais, it is rude to pour your own drink. To show respect, you're supposed to pour for your fellow co-workers. In return, they should top off your glass. It's a win-win situation, really.

At this enkai, I sat across from K-sensei. He's a quiet man; but I noticed that he tries to initiate small talk with me now, albeit in Japanese, because this is the second time our desks have been placed in close proximity within the teachers' room. Our friendship was further bonded, because we always made sure to keep each other's glasses topped up.

I also had a brief chat with the new school principal! Like his predecessor, he can't speak English. But he made a point to come over to talk with me, which was nice. I hope he's easygoing, and doesn't force me to use a timecard at school! Because when the clock strikes 4:00, I bolt out of school!

When the dinner portion of the evening finished, we walked over to a nearby snack bar. "Riverside" is located on the main strip. It's a modern-looking building, constructed to look like a wooden box with clean lines. Inside, the teachers from the other junior high school were already seated in the booths.

Soon after we took our seats and did the "kanpai," I found myself singing "I Will Survive." Luckily, the teachers were bopping their heads to the beat. At the end, I got a chorus of "うまい!!!" ("Good!"???)

As the night progresses, the snack bar owner urged me to speak English with her kid. It turns out he just got back from an eight-day stint in Chicago. He's studying English, so his high school organized a trip overseas. Oddly enough, he was also the one who poured me another shochu (a Japanese distilled alcohol, similar to vodka) as we stood at the bar. Only in Japan, right?

It's interesting how enkais are the social bonds within the Japanese workplace. You tend to learn something new about your peers. (For example, my new co-teacher likes karaoke just as much as I do!) You can pick up some new Japanese words. (At the Board of Education enkai, I was mispronouncing something in Japanese - and it turns out I was saying something mildly inappropriate. But A-sensei thought it was hilarious.)

Also, I've learned that there is a Japanese version of the Y.M.C.A. I think that I almost pee'd in my pants when K-sensei busted this song out during karaoke. You can view a Youtube version here.

Turn that frown upside-down: A graduation afterthought

A 15-year-old boy made me cry last Friday morning.

It was our graduation ceremony at Nichu for the 3年生. Every March, junior high school students across Japan graduate on the same day. Like all things in Japan, this year’s ceremony strictly adhered to the same format that I saw last year. The procession started at precisely 10 a.m. The kids got their diplomas one-by-one, involving continuous bowing. (If you'd like to learn more about the norms of graduation ceremonies in Japan, check out my old blog post here.)

During one part of the ceremony, all of the younger students sing a special song to say farewell to their senpai. This year, the first- and second-years sang something like “Taisetsu na mono.” In return, the third-year students face the audience and sing a song to convey their gratitude to all teachers, parents and kohais. NHK, Japan’s national public broadcaster, chose a popular pop song called “YELL.” (It is performed by Ikimonogari. You can view it here.)

The grads were in the midst of performing their good-bye song, singing it beautifully as they usually do. Nichu is a pretty small school, and most of these kids have grown up together since nursery school. So, I was expecting more tears, because this would be the last song the kids would be singing together.

It was Ejiri-kun, one of the baseball boys, who lost it. I watched him as he wiped away the tears streaming down his face with his blazer’s sleeve. This was the outgoing class clown of the group. The one who left me a good-bye message saying, “English is very fan!! I love you!” (Spelling errors included!) He’s one of the boys who I’ve let it slide when he drops the “-sensei” honorific, and just yells “GEMMA!!!!!” when he greets me in the hallways. He’s always just bursting with energy, that I’ve teased him by calling him “crazy!”

Seeing this kid cry, my eyes welled up with tears. Moreover, I remembered a story I heard only two or three days before. At one of my visit schools, one of the teachers said she had taught my graduating students when they were wee six-year-olds in the first grade. She told me funny stories about their youth: K.-kun had a big head (he still does); Taka-kun was a cutieface (he still is!); and Te-chan was a good boy with a naughty streak (he still is!)

What was Ejiri-kun’s story? He cried every day at school. (Growing up, I was a sensitive kid. That is, I think I cried a lot at school.) So, I was touched when Ejiri-kun was so emotional at this year’s graduation. Moreover, I looked over at his mother sitting in the audience; and she was also dabbing the tears away from her face.

I saw Ejiri-kun once again. Although the kids have graduated, they are still dropping by the staffroom to say thanks to the teachers and announce where they’ve been accepted. Since they’ve technically completed their time at Nichu, they are allowed to wear their uniforms but don’t wear their yellow shoes.

Good ol' crazy Ejiri-kun, who often bears a mischievous grin on his face, was wearing a pair of cute slippers emblazoned with Rilakkuma, an adorable cartoon bear.

While he made me shed a tear last week, he made me laugh today.

Eight days

Eight days until my favorite third-years walk out of Nichu's ancient hallways forever. In one of the homerooms, the day has been marked by a sheet of paper with the letter "8" decorated as a bee. (My JTE explained that the Japanese word for "bee" is pronounced as はち。This also means "8." You learn something new every day! It also just happens to be the evening I've gotten my new dictionary delivered!)

I was allowed to design the entire lesson plan for their last English class in junior high. I kicked it off with some mad libs to change the infamous Japanese story, Momotaro the Peach Boy.

"An old woman and man lived in a beautiful city. They wanted a baby. One day the woman was washing a moai in the river.



A big orange was in the river! The woman got the big orange . They wanted to eat it.

But, inside it was a busy boy! The old man and woman were very happy.

Seven years later the boy became very strong. He went on a trip. He heard about a city named Motomiya There were many dangerous cats in the city. He wanted to eat the cats.

The boy arrived in the city. The dangerous cat was there. The boy had a fight. It was a very hungry and cheap fight.

The boy killed the cat. The king was very happy. He gave the boy one yen and his lucky daughter."

It was then followed by a Jeopardy-style game, which I dubbed "English Olympics." I thought it was fitting, because the 2010 Vancouver Olympics just hosted the closing ceremonies yesterday. I asked them random questions, testing whether they knew facts like my last name. (Last time, they could've sworn my name was Ms. Green, like the character in the textbook). I also got them to stand up on their chairs, to keep things light.

We also played gesture games, where I saw a classroom full of teenagers doing their best moonwalk or doing the choo-choo train dance.

But for me, I had the most fun distributing presents. I have spent the past few days burning almost 90 mixtape (?) CDs for these kids. I've even included some Celine Dion, to make fun of Te-chan who said he liked the Titanic song. And not only that, but I have spoiled them with personal messages written on postcards bearing photos of their homeroom with yours truly. I started getting misty-eyed when they each said "Thank you so much!!" and eagerly read the postcards. H.-chan just sent me a text, saying thank you for the present. Warm fuzzies!!!

I'm going to miss those kids...

Oishiiiiii

Two thin cookie wafers sandwich a decadent slice of chocolate. I handed out small white packages bearing a square sample of these delightful sweets to my teachers this week. H-sensei immediately recognized the packaging for “shiroi kobito,” and remarked in Japanese: “Did you go to Sapporo?”

These little souvenirs, often edible treats which have been individually wrapped, are called “omiyage.” Like all things in Japan, omiyage is a way to grease the wheels of social obligations particularly within the workplace. Most cities or popular sightseeing spots are known for specific treats. In Sapporo, they are proud of “shiroi kobito.” When I went down to Hiroshima, I picked up a few boxes of “momiji manju,” which is a maple-leaf shaped bun filled with sweet red-bean jam. I’ve been to Tokyo Disneyland and Tokyo Disney Sea three times, so I bought some “chocolate crunch” in the shape of Mickey-san’s head. And when I went to South Korea, I brought back flavoured seaweed.

Even before embarking on a plane to Japan, our embassy contacts emphasized the importance of following Japanese etiquette. It was highly suggested that we bring little presents to our new co-workers in Japan, in the hopes of showing our gratitude. I brought tons of kitschy things: maple syrup, magnets, postcards, maps, coasters, keychains, maple candies, chocolates, etc. I gave them to my bosses, fellow teachers, neighbours and so on. When my family visited two Christmases ago, they came armed with loads of stuff: Canadian whiskey and ice wine for my supervisors; Ferrero Rocher chocolates for my three staffrooms; and cute moose stuffed toys for my Sampei-san’s kids.

I enjoy giving omiyage in the staffroom, because some of the teachers actually drop by my desk to talk to me. (I’ve been here for almost years, but the staffroom can be a lonely place! People, at least in my base school, don’t really talk to me since I struggle when speaking in Japanese. It’s only when I’m at my elementary schools, I don’t feel embarrassed when I try talking with the staff. I feel like the atmosphere is different!) But when I bring in omiyage, I hear hushed tones of “Gemma-sensei, arigatou gozaimasu! Oishiiiiii!” (“Thank you, Ms. Gemma! It’s delicious!”)

Ah, sharing is caring.

Futon floor

When people come over to my house, I often hear the same three remarks: I have the softest toilet paper; I have the best snacks from back home; and my place has that “lived-in” feeling.

This is the first time I’ve actually lived on my own, so I’ve fully embraced the fact that I can decorate this place however I’d like. Over the past year, I’ve added a purple rug under my kotatsu table. There are two television sets tucked in the corner of my living room. Four plastic chests of drawers are filled with my haphazardly folded clothes and toiletries. Four wooden bookcases are cluttered with books and other things that I don’t feel like organizing. And I have a metal rack bearing heaps of my clothes, which no longer fit in my closet. (Don’t open my living room closet! It’s filled to the top with futons and boxes of junk).

But the piece de resistance of my place has to be “futon floor.” It comes out once in a blue moon. Futon floor emerges after someone covers their entire floor in futons. That’s it. It sounds simple enough, but there’s nothing like sprawling out on futons while being cocooned in my favourite duvet. At my place, futon floor is key when I have a movie night or slumber party. I also set out futon floor when I’m feeling lazy or ill.

The last time I had futon floor at the Pretty in Pink Palace, I had three friends who had slept over after a night of partying in Koriyama. We spent the morning making tough decisions: whether to enjoy a light brunch at Marumatsu or the Tomato Onion Restaurant.

When I took a peek from my patio door overlooking the parking lot, I noticed two of my students were walking by with the city hall’s monthly newsletter. They were en route to drop them in my apartment building’s mailboxes. I called them over, and introduced them to my friends. So, Te-kun was given the opportunity to poke his head through my patio door to see my friends seated on my futon floor. I wonder what he thought of my place. And if he told his father, who happens to be my landlord, that I live in such chaos! Te-kun’s little brother also ran over, his mouth slightly ajar as he caught a glimpse of my friends (more foreigners!) and futon floor.

"Get over it..."

The kids have been counting down the days until graduation. Behind their homeroom teacher's desk, they have placed a sheet counting down the days. Each student has been given the task to decorate one sheet of A4-sized paper, representing each day. On Day 25, one of the kids wrote in English: "Get over it." Get over junior high school? Get over yourself? Well-played, kiddo. I have no idea what you mean, and I'm interested in the answer.

At Nichu, there are almost 90 third-years. I haven't been to my base school this week, but I think that they have less than 20 days left at Nichu. I've started skipping out on eating lunch with the other grades, because I'd rather spend my lunch hours with the senior students before they leave me!

I know I'll only be a little blip on their radar, but I feel like I've bonded the most with this crop of graduating students.

There's Homeroom 3-2, which is probably the most outgoing of the bunch. At recess, I was chillin' with the girls around a cluster of desks. We were talking about our respective nicknames. Outside on the veranda, the boys were playing a heated game of janken ("Rock, Paper, Scissors!") Janken determined who would rush into the classroom, yelling: "GEMMA-SENSEI! GEMMA-SENSEI! HOW DO YOU SAY THIS IN ENGLISH??" (while pointing to a classroom object, like the cleaning bucket or a clothespin.) Adorable.

There's T-kun, whom N. and I have dubbed "Bape-kun" since he was wearing that logo tee last time we ran into him at the local bookstore. He's one of my favourites. He knows that I listen to hip hop and stuff, so he often asks: "Do you know Ne-Yo? Do you T-Pain?" One of his English compositions was about his interest in listening to T.I. He even printed off a photo from the Internet.

There's Te-kun, who thought it would be OK to pet me on the head after I chased him around with my camera. He's a funny kid, that one. At lunch, I asked him who was his fave Canadian singer. He spent all afternoon thinking about it, then ran around after-school looking for me. When he finally found me sitting in a classroom, he gasped: "CERINE DION! TITANIC!!!! CERINE." Amazing.

I can't forget my speech contest girls. Forcing them to repeat after me: "Unique New York!". I fulfilled my dream to do that tongue twister, as shown on my all-time fave movie: Anchorman.

I won't forget Yuki-kun, who has three other siblings that I teach at elementary school. Last month, he showed up to school with a shaved head. Being the mature teacher that I am, I joined his friends in yelling: "No hair! No hair!" He loved it.

My 25th birthday party was also rendered memorable by my third-years. The senior boys of the baseball team were at the Asahi Beer Factory with their parents and the head coach. It just so happened that I was walking over to the factory with 30 of my closest Fuku friends that night. They were tickled pink to see me rock up with so many gaijin (that is, foreigners). I captured the moment with photos, and laughed when Yuki's mom joined in as well. That's right, kids. Gemma-sensei likes to partay.

I can't forget the twins, who sent me a lovely greeting over the holidays: "Marry Christmas!" Cho kawaii. They also taught me some puns in Japanese. In return, I taught them some simple ones in English... which they probably didn't understand. "What do you call a Disney cat who tells lies? A Lyin' King!" Lame, I know.

I will always remember F-chan. He is known for being the hungriest of all third-years. If I can't finish my milk at lunch, I'll give it to him. But I also turn to him for advice on magic. He taught me a cool trick from the dollar store, pulling apart metal rings in the blink of an eye. So, I bought a cheap trick from the store... and got him to show me how it's done. Oh, F-chan!

I think that I could write a nice warm fuzzy about all of my third-years. They're such a great bunch! It will be a sad day when I have hear "Pomp and Circumstance" waft through the gymnasium, as they get ushered out the doors one last time.