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.