The last day

Cute Purikura Online cute

Gohyakugawa Station was the local train stop near my old pink apartment. It was a convenient way for me to get out of the sticks, and visit friends in neighbouring cities. If I took the southbound train, I could end up in Koriyama City within ten minutes. The station area was "bustling" with nightlife, two Starbucks cafes, restaurants, karaoke and cute shops. My friends' apartment complexes were about ten minutes away by taxi or bus. If I took the northbound train, I could get off at Motomiya Stn. to hit up my town's "downtown area." I still miss my favourite snack bars (where the old men stopped my rendition of classic Sean Paul songs) and the lovely walking path alongside the Abukuma River.

Sometimes, I took the 36-minute train ride all the way up to Fukushima City. There, I could visit the "ikemen" cafe, where us girls dubbed all the wait staff as handsome dudes. I can't forget Saizeriya, a cheap Italian place serving white wine decanters for 400 yen (or $4.00). I didn't make it up there as often as I would have liked, because I felt Koriyama was closer and more accessible. There were also Fuku's hotspots, like Neo (some hilarious times at that nightclub) and Chubbs (a basement izakaya where the alcohol was free-flowing).

I took my last train ride out of Gohyakugawa on the last Sunday morning of July. A big aftershock rocked Fuku early that morning, so my local train lines were shut down for inspection for a few hours. I believe I grabbed my last iced coffee and breakfast from the Lawson's convenience store across the street. I probably chucked some more items into the neighbourhood garbage station. (They probably weren't impressed that I didn't sort my last dozen or so bags of trash, but I couldn't be bothered to buy another roll of trash bags.) When B. came over around noon, we dumped my two large suitcases into his car's trunk. (He would courier those down to Narita Airport on my behalf). We also made a quick stop at the local 7-11 conbini, so that I could courier one bag down to M.'s place in Tokyo. I ran into Ryouga-kun for the last time. He was the little boy who popped his head into my living room.

Some fellow JETs, my supervisor and his assistant dropped by the station to see me off. It felt surreal, handing over my house keys and showing photos on my digital camera as proof that it was clean. I gave everyone a hug, but it really didn't feel like I was leaving Motomiya for the last time. I was really touched when three of my former students purposely saw me off. (I had run into Shou-kun and Katsumi-kun in front of Koriyama Stn. at my surprise birthday in June. I ended up watching one of their rock gigs in Koriyama. There were literally 10 people in the audience, including myself. So, they were really pleased to see me and wanted to give me a final good-bye in July. Bless! They were my senior JHS students when I started teaching in 2008. Now, they're getting set to graduate from high school! S-kun would like to be an office worker or something like that. I think K-kun wants to be a firefighter. Dream big, kiddos! I admire their drive. I wish I had focus like that!)

I do miss my little station. Gohyakugawa Stn. was nestled amongst Motomiya's many rice fields behind the Asahi beer factory. There was a sidewalk running along the factory, lined with arches and some nice shrubs. Oh, how I actually miss that 22-minute. (OK, let's be honest here. I also took several cab rides, because I felt lazy or it was just too darn cold or hot to walk over).

I left Motomiya, and found myself on a shinkansen bound for Tokyo. An epic trip to Taiwan and Tokyo awaited. Tearful good-byes, Forever 21 shopping trips and last lunch dates would be sandwiched in there.

Embassy of Japan's Welcome Back Reception

Last month, the Embassy of Japan hosted a Welcome Back reception for the newly-returned JETs. Embassy officials, family and friends all congregated at the embassy, nestled on Sussex Drive, to celebrate our arrival. (I wrapped up my contract in late July, then took a two-week vacation around Taiwan and Tokyo before moving back to Canada). 


I was invited to give a short speech to thank the embassy and the JET Programme. I gave a pretty straightforward speech, given the slice of time I was allotted. I've posted my thoughts below. You can also read about the reception here.


"Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen. Good evening. I would like to thank the Embassy of Japan for hosting this evening’s welcome back reception for newly returned JETs like myself. 

My name is Gemma Villanueva. It is an honour for me to be part of the JET family since 2008. It’s also great to be back in Ottawa, where I was born and raised. Indeed, Fukushima prefecture is my second home. I spent three years there as an ALT in one junior high school and its two feeder schools. Nestled in the countryside, Motomiya is home to about 30,000 residents.

I will always hold dear to my heart: Fukushima’s beautiful green hills, the warm people and even the smelly garlic ramen. As a cultural ambassador, I had the unique experience of exchanging views especially with young minds. I enjoyed comparing cultures with my students, even if we just chatted about pop sensations like Justin Bieber and AKB48. I also traveled throughout Fukushima, and visited places from Hokkaido down to Kyushu.

As a Fukushima JET, the disastrous chain of events on March 11 struck a chord with me. I was actually there when everything unfolded. During that time of crisis, I witnessed the strong bonds within the community. In the initial days after the quake, water and food was increasingly scarce. But grocery stores did their best to help by setting up shop outside and gas stations filled up tanks in rations. People calmly made their purchases; they didn’t riot. My landlord’s son, who happened to be one of my students, walked over to my place and gave me a big bottle of water. These small, calm gestures spoke volumes about Japanese society. Thousands of lives were lost. Many are still missing. Entire cities and towns were flattened.

Still, Tohoku holds hope. (After the big quake, school life had to adapt. Every morning, the vice principal checked the radiation readings on the soccer pitch. Teachers walked around with dosimeters in their pockets. My students were crammed into temporary classrooms at the community centre, because the original school building was destroyed. Despite all these changes, everyone still remained positive.)

Moreover, I want to express my deep gratitude for my fellow Fukushima JETs. Throughout the chaos, we managed to pull together. The unprecedented nuclear situation created a lot of anxiety, influencing many of us to create some distance from the affected coast. I’m so thankful for the JETS who graciously opened up their homes so that we could camp out together. Sitting on the floor covered in futons, we’d share food, monitor the news and pass around laptops to Skype with loved ones back home. Former Fukushima JETs also provided great comfort to us, staying up around-the-clock to pass along breaking news.

These days, many Fukushima JETs are organizing volunteer initiatives and raising ongoing awareness about the situation. We proudly wear t-shirts bearing a popular Fukushima symbol, the akabeko or “red cow.” Proceeds from sales go towards recovery efforts.

The JET Programme has given me the opportunity to deepen my understanding of the Japanese culture and people. I look forward to continuing cross-cultural exchange activities between Canada and Japan, thus promoting our close-knit ties. I’ve often mentioned that the kanji characters behind Fukushima loosely translate into “Lucky Island.” I’d say it is so lucky to receive thoughts and prayers from all over the world. My experience in Japan has empowered me with the skills to be a better global citizen.

On behalf of all the returning Ottawa JET participants, I again thank the Embassy of Japan and the extended JET family for the overwhelming support.

Thank you very much." 

Birthday snaps

J-chan and I got really excited after running into my former students, who serenaded us with tunes in front of Koriyama Station.

It's quite the cliche, but my last few months in Fuku flew by. I still haven't published any lengthy blogs on my departure, mainly because I feel like I'm in a glass case of emotion. (That's right, Ron Burgundy.) One of my favourite memories would have to be the surprise party thrown by some friends. I wrote about the whole thing here. It was my first surprise birthday ever, and it'll forever be etched in my memory. I felt all warm and fuzzy seeing tables lined with people who made an effort to hang out with me for the night, and didn't let the secret slip out! I miss that immense sense of community in Fuku. 

A small group of us watched a basketball game in Sendai last November, catching a glimpse of pint-sized "Take-kun" sinking all the baskets for his team. (I found the lion mascot's dance moves were fun to watch, too!) While sitting in the bleachers, J-chan and R-chan secretly brewed up the idea to have one last hurrah in June. (Kill two birds with one stone, eh? Celebrate my birthday and enjoy some beer at the Asahi beer garden one last time). 

Cheers to all the lovely friends I made in Japan. I love you, baby, Fukushima! 

Birthday snaps

It's quite the cliche, but my last few months in Fuku flew by. I still haven't published any lengthy blogs on my departure, mainly because I feel like I'm in a glass case of emotion. (That's right, Ron Burgundy.) One of my favourite memories would have to be the surprise party thrown by some friends. I wrote about the whole thing here. It was my first surprise birthday ever, and it'll forever be etched in my memory. I felt all warm and fuzzy seeing tables lined with people who made an effort to hang out with me for the night, and didn't let the secret slip out! I miss that immense sense of community in Fuku. 

A small group of us watched a basketball game in Sendai last November, catching a glimpse of pint-sized "Take-kun" sinking all the baskets for his team. (I found the lion mascot's dance moves were fun to watch, too!) While sitting in the bleachers, J-chan and R-chan secretly brewed up the idea to have one last hurrah in June. (Kill two birds with one stone, eh? Celebrate my birthday and enjoy some beer at the Asahi beer garden one last time). 

Cheers to all the lovely friends I made in Japan. I love you, baby, Fukushima! 

Writing it down

I haven't written in a while, as you can see. 

It's surprising, given my funemployment. (Right now, the funds are running low... so it's not quite fun.) I know I've got lots to write about it, but I haven't quite figured out where to start. In the past two months, I've been asked: "How was Japan?" I try to wrap it up in a nutshell, with a simple: "It was awesome!" There's so much more I'd like to say, but I don't feel comfortable talking someone's ear off. Only my closest friends and fam have heard me go on and on about the sweet kiddos I've left behind.

I'll jot something down soon. I'm no longer living it up in Japan, but I've still got my mind filled with memories galore.

This is it

"Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong." 

(John Denver's "Take me Home, Country Roads." As sung by my students during English lessons with S-sensei and I.)

My last night in Japan. There's so much to say, but my mind's racing and I've still got to re-arrange my carry-on luggage. I bought a bunch of last-minute omiyage, but I have no idea how it'll fit in this bag. 

Honestly, it feels like only yesterday I got the placement letter with those life-changing words: Motomiya City, Fukushima Prefecture. I'm so thankful I took a leap of faith. I know a few friends and relatives back in Canada are surprised I've stuck it out in Japan for so long. But Fuku's carved a wonderful spot in my heart. "I love you, baby, Fukushima." 

The Tohoku disaster will always be etched in my mind, but the good memories will remain at the forefront. I've met some amazing, amazing people out here. Students. FuJETs. Teachers. Locals. The list goes on. 

I'm also thankful that Japan has reunited me with my second-cousin, M., and his wife. This couple, as well has Buster the Maine Coon, have been so hospitable and generous since moving to the land of the rising sun. They were an immense comfort to me when I was still shell-shocked from March 11. 

I left Motomiya on July 31. I spent a few days in Tokyo, followed by an epic trip to Taipei. It was extremely nice to have some time to chill with two of my fave Koriyama girls, Roretta-chan and Jacqui-chan. D., aka #4, was the perfect addition to the crew. He basically planned out our itinerary, and put up with three girls who constantly whined about the ridiculous humidity in Taiwan. (It was freakin' hot).

Upon returning to Tokyo, I've been busy having final hangouts with old friends and my cousins. I've also squeezed in some time for shopping and a haircut at Toni & Guy in Harajuku. I will miss Tokyo just as much as my slice of countryside.

Three years ago, I wrote in my first blog entry: "Here's to expecting the unexpected."

Boy, did I stick to that motto. Thanks for everything, Japan. ほんとうにありがとうございました。

It's hard to say good-bye

"Good morning, Ms. Gemma. I am S-chan and E-chan's mother. Today, Shiori will meet  you.  So, E-chan also    bought you a present. S-chan  takes it with her present. E-chan wrote a letter yesterday, but she forgot  to put in her present.  She disapointed, so I   send her message.Thank you, Gemma. I like your class. I study and want to speak English.          from E-chan
Take care and have a good journy to Canada!"


I have the best students ever. 

Ego trippin'

My work here is done. One of the JET Programme's buzzwords? "Internationalization."

I received some handwritten messages from my kids at JHS. I'm sure a lot of them copied off each other, but it was really cute to read the following:

"I don't like English. But I like Ms. Gemma."

More scraps of paper

In the midst of cleaning out my apartment, I've realized that I am a huge packrat. I've been like this forever. But I have found some gems. I copied down some of my students' funniest work:

"He is called Daiki Arrioka. He makes me smile. We can meet at live concerts. It is a worldwide nature. He is a lovely boy. - Minami"

"This is called a nihontou. It is used when you kill people. It's cool. It's beautiful. It's very popular." - K-kun

"This is called a samurai. He has a characteristic hair. His carry word very very strong."

"This is called a kotatsu. It's hot. It is used when you are cold. It is popular in winter months for people and cats."- Haruki (every writing activity, he'd write about cats.)

"Sliced raw fish is a peculiar food in Japan. It is very expensive, but it is very good. Japanese people put soy sauce and wasabi." - Shunya

"Origami has bright colors. Mostly we make animals. Almost thing are made of a piece of paper. They make us gentle. Origami is very interesting!"

And on Friday, I was chillin' outside with the volleyball girls who were trying to chat up the baseball team. Runa blurts out: "M-chan is a stalker. M-chan stalks boys." That is definitely not in the English textbook. Good one, R-chan.

Building up!

My JHS for the next two years 

The 50-year-old school building that got owned by the earthquake

On Friday, we had the big Moving Day. My JHS moved out of the stuffy Arako (community centre), and into two buildings that sprouted up almost overnight on our old school grounds. (It took only a couple of months for the construction to be completed on two "temporary" two-storey buildings). The best feature? Air conditioning in every room, except the music and art rooms. This is a huge deal, because Japanese summers are humid. We measured daily the temperature in the Arako gym, and it often reached 35 degrees. Anyways, that's what you get for stuffing about 200 kids in a gym divided into seven classrooms! Oh, and we rarely opened the windows since our area does have high levels of radiations compared to usual.

That morning, I was at Arako with some teachers and the senior kids. Small white pick-up trucks (Japanese kei-trucks), driven by PTA members and other volunteers, lined up their vehicles outside. We piled everything into that caravan: assorted cardboard boxes, 266 desks, 266 chairs, TVs, bookshelves and so on. It was hot, sweaty work in this heat. Everyone was mopping their foreheads. A lot of teachers and students wrapped a towel around their necks or heads, but I couldn't make that fashion faux-pas. When Arako was empty, we switched gears and everyone joined the first- and second-years who were already at the two temporary buildings

Desks and bookshelves were quickly brought in and arranged in orderly rows by noon. The blackboards are still pristine. The bathrooms have western-style toilets, not the nasty Japanese squatters. The entire school is sparkly and new, breathing in new energy into the students and staff. Everyone worked really hard. In the staff room, cold drinks were given as omiyage three times in the afternoon.

Some parents dropped by the school in the afternoon to look at the new digs. I was pleased to stop and chat with two mothers. The Koizumi girls' mother said she really appreciated the postcard and CD I made for S.-chan when she graduated. She even insisted on clasping my hand in a firm handshake, not just the usual exchange of bows. The Yaginuma boys' mother was really happy when I recalled her eldest son goes to a prestigious school in Koriyama. She also hoped that I'd coach her middle son, Dai-chan, for the English speech contest. Sadly, I don't think I will get the chance before I leave in July.

When the moving efforts were finished, I got a strange feeling while standing on the dirt soccer field. On March 11, I remember I was standing in that same spot with the other teachers, watching 2chu crumble. I would never have imagined that only four months later, two buildings would be finished and ready for school to re-open. It turns out that lessons will take place here for two years. Meanwhile, the construction crews will be demolishing and rebuilding the old school building. 2chu will be brand-spanking new. Unfortunately, I won't be around to see that day. Nor will the current second-years, who will be entering high school by then. Still, it's amazing to think that rebuilding efforts are coming together nicely.

Never give up, Japan.

Oh, Engrish

I'm starting to clean out my apartment. And in the process, I'm finding scraps of paper where I've scrawled some of my students' prized Engrish. Seeing Japanese kids produce writing based on their own experiences is pretty rare. Let's enjoying:

"We was going to Daiyu 8. We was bike going to Daiyu 8. We was watching wood after going to bike Motomiya 2nd J.H.S. I had a good time." (Hiroto)

"I got up early today. Because I pulled weeds in school. I pulled weeds very hard so I got tired. After that, I went to fields full as asparagus with my mother. We pulled asparagus. I liked it. So I was happy. And I played with Moka and Pidian. They are very cute. I had a good time."

"That day was sports day. But it was called off because of heavy rain. I was gently in the home. I wrote a novel for three hours." (Moe)

"We had soccer games against Atami JHs. My friend is the best member."

Where's Charles?

I have the most thoughtful group of friends ever. Fukushima kids, you are the best. Hands down.

On Friday night, I was picked up for dinner by B. and V-chan. I was under the impression that we were going for dinner at the Asahi Beer Factory, because Brian mentioned he had a house guest meeting us there. We walked through the doors, and I recall I made comment: "Hey, who's going to run into their students at Asahi tonight?" In fact, I was greeted by a long table filled with more than a dozen of my friends. They were wearing party hats, but I was still confused. Where was B's friend, Charles? And why was everyone wearing birthday hats?

It took a few seconds for someone to finally break down that it was my surprise birthday! Granted, my birthday isn't for another few weeks in August. But I need to give mad shout outs to Roretta-chan and John for brewing up this idea. Apparently, they came up with it back when we all watched a basketball game in Sendai last winter. They know me too well. I don't like to talk about my flair often, but I love birthdays. It's always been a blast celebrating, especially in Japan.

This was my first surprise party ever. In life. I was so touched to see people come out to Motomiya for me. (And let's face it: Have one last hurrah at the beer garden. Two hours of unlimited meat and draaanks? Hello!) I grabbed an overnight bag from home after dinner, and I went to Koriyama with some people. The best part was running into two of my former students, Katsumi-kun and Shou-kun. When I taught them, they were mere senior students at JHS. Now, they're senior students in high school. How time flies! I told them about my plans to leave in the summer, so they invited me to one of their gigs in July. Hopefully, I'll see them before I go. S-kun had a guitar strapped to his back, so he started playing some tunes for us. He was really enthusiastic, playing music my parents would know. The Beatles, for example. I remember when he was in JHS, I let him look through my iTunes and he really liked the Bob Dylan tunes.

My birthdays throughout the years in Fuku:
- 24th Birthday: I had been living in Fuku for only two or three weeks when my birthday rolled around. Danielle organized a lovely dinner for me! The Fuku boys happened to be in Koriyama, too.
- 25th Birthday: I had reached my one-year mark living in Fuku. I made some solid friends, and invited a big crew to the Asahi Beer Garden. The room was filled with about 35 of my closest FuJETs. (I still have the guest list saved on my computer). Drinks were had by all. We moved the party to Koriyama, where chaos ensued. I remember getting a phone call from Matt at 7 a.m., whining that he was lost and he couldn't find his backpack. Soph opened up her home for us to crash. Good times, my friends.
- 26th Birthday: I had reached my two-year mark living in Fuku. I invited a good-sized number of people to my birthday party in Motomiya. I wasn't able to book the beer garden, because it was full. So, we ended up having a delicious yaki-nomi (yakiniku and nomihoudai) dinner at the Korean grill in Motomiya. And to top off the night, we karaoked the night away at my favourite snack bar. The mama-san spoiled me.
- 27th Birthday: I was bummed I wouldn't be celebrating my birthday in Japan one last time. So, I was really touched when my friends threw me a surprise party. A freakin' surprise party! Best friends ever.

I will miss my Fukushima friends dearly. I'm so thankful to have met some awesome people.

This Asahi's for you.

100 days

On Facebook, I'm learning that today marks 100 days since the great quake. We've had a couple major aftershocks that rattled me a little bit today. The first one happened when I was slipping on my flip flops as I was heading out to pick up the Koriyama kids from my station. The second one happened this evening when I was sitting on my bed, using my computer. The room shook for a lengthy time, that I crouched in my genkan and held onto the door frame. (Earthquake literature tells me I should crouch under a table, but I don't have anything big and sturdy. So, I prefer cowering in my front entrance, just in case I have to make a quick exit.

Things are getting back to normal. I spent last night painting the town red with the Kenpoku girls. We had a girls' night, where everyone got dolled up for an evening in Fukushima. The white wine and umeshu was flowing all night. We ate at a fancy izakaya, where we talked about girly things and convinced our waitress to find us more cheap white wine despite being sold out. The 2jikai involved some karaoke with limited song selection, where we tried to sing Lady Gaga's latest tune but failed. The night continued with a really slow walk over to yatai-mura, an outdoor space filled with food stalls serving snacks and alcohol. The mama-san, who always wears a wide headband over her frizzy updo, continuously "shushed" us quiet. She would later come over, clasp my hand and warmly invite us back any time. Loves it.

I also spent the afternoon driving around Inawashiro, with three Koriyama friends in tow, looking for our friend's birthday party. Without the aid of an iPhone, only the confusing directions given to us over the phone, we were able to make it to the birthday BBQ. Good times. 

It's nice to enjoy these last few weekends with friends. It's very selfish on my part, but it's helping me cope with living in uncertainty. It's not easy feeling aftershocks on a daily basis. You get used to them after a while, but they always serve as a reminder that we experienced a big 9.0-magnitude earthquake just a few months ago. 

I am starting to quietly inform some people that I'll be gone come August. My conbini lady asked how long I'd stick around; so, I was compelled to tell her I'm leaving. My eyes got a little watery when I told some of my elementary school students that I'd be moving back. I haven't had the heart to tell my JHS kiddos just yet. It'll be really difficult to leave them. I'm glad my kids are at least able to live somewhat normal lives. They are allowed to do club activities outside now, but outdoor swimming lessons are still cancelled. They are able to eat hamburgers and sing karaoke. A sense of concern looms over everyone's headss, but the kids are all right for now. Motomiya is extremely blessed to be picking up the pieces. 

Despite things moving forward for my kids, I do wonder about everyone going through this. The people that are still out there, still missing. The people who are still living in cardboard boxes. The adults who have sent their families out of Fukushima, but have remained for work obligations. 

Here are some photos to show how the rebuilding process is unfolding. It makes you wonder if other nations could recover just as well as we do.

Photos: Three months later

The traces left behind

It has been about three months since the ground beneath Tohoku broke out into a big rumble. The Tohoku earthquake released an immense tsunami, which swallowed up the coastline in northeast Japan. Thousands of lives were taken; people are still missing; and entire buildings, homes for that matter, were reduced to rubble. Now, we feel slight aftershocks on a daily basis; these slights shakes are constant reminders of March 11.

If you take a quick glimpse at the world reports abroad, you'll see that Fukushima is no longer at the forefront. Even a mere two weeks after the quake, Coop and the Gup (as L. and I dubbed the CNN duo) decreased their Fukushima coverage. Instead, reporters shed light on the growing tensions in Libya. And soon, Fukushima faded away. Recently, I've clicked on my usual Canadian news websites like the CBC or the Globe and Mail, only to find that the Fukushima story is barely covered. It's part of the ebb and flow of the news cycle. My JTE knows that my background is in journalism. He asked me to tell Fukushima's story, even though I am finishing my time here in August. I'll do my best, Sato-sensei.

So, I have been trying to chronicle the things I've experienced since returning in early May. I'll admit that I've been pretty caught up with re-gaining my own footing. I haven't been to the coast yet for volunteering. My friends tell me parts of towns affected by the tsunami are covered in debris. Debris that'll take months, probably years, to clear away. Mad props to those who have made the trek to the coastline.

*

It's strange to see how life continues on. Take a look at my town. When you go to the local burger joint, a whiteboard highlights that the green produce used is from another prefecture. (It's highly suggested to stay away from greens grown in Fukushima). I still drink bottled water, even though everyone says the minute amounts in our tap water is harmless. Teachers carry light blue dosimeters in their pockets, measuring external radiation exposure. And filling up your gas tank is a little more expensive than usual. Talk of radiation permeates daily conversation.

It breaks my heart when my co-workers, most of whom don't speak English, do their best to tell me how they feel about the current situation. I won't forget when M-sensei reminded me in broken Japanese and English that the kanji behind "Fukushima" (福島) loosely translates into "Happy Island." M-sensei then continued on, saying we are now "Unhappy Island." He was trying to express that the Tohoku disaster has changed all of our lives, making things difficult.

On Friday, I was posting up photos on my makeshift English corner in our temporary school. Another teacher stood beside me, admiring the photos of my friends who held up a small poster: "We love you, Fukushima." He was really happy to see that the world keeps Fukushima in its thoughts. But he was sad that life would no longer be the same. He told me that rice was being planted, but the harvest wouldn't sell. He told me about traces of radiation popping up in Tokyo and surrounding areas. He talked about the invisible radiation threat.

It really hits me when Japanese people are honest about their concerns with me, despite our communication difficulties.

Sitting, waiting, wishing

It was a hot and sticky August morning. I think it was the principal or the vice principal who ushered me to my seat in the "teachers' corner" of the gym, and told me to wait for the opening assembly to start. This would be the first time I would see all of the students at Motomiya 2nd J.H.S.

I heard a rumble, and looked up. The students were entering the gym through the side doors, each carrying their wooden classroom chair. Split into two lines, the girls and the boys proceeded to the front of the gym. Each class had one line for boys and one line for girls. So, there must've been about almost 20 lines. Some of the kids sneaked looks over at me, probably curious to see the new ALT. But for the most part, everyone was rather quiet. They arranged their chairs in straight vertical lines facing the stage. It was obvious that this was the regular seating arrangement, because everyone was able to create perfect spaces between chairs and the aisles. They did it quietly and without complaint. I was impressed. Every kid was sitting up with perfect posture. The boys had their hands turned into fists, resting on their laps. I didn't really recognize anyone, except for Yumi-chan. One of the speech contest kids, I had met her earlier in August when I started coaching them.

Over the years, I got used to their general obedience and their knack for precision. The chair thing didn't surprise me after attending several assemblies, pep rallies, formal ceremonies and school festivals. That dilapidated gym held a lot of events for us.

Now that we're in the community centre, we no longer have space for general assemblies. We don't have room for all of the students and teachers to congregate. If something needs to be said to everyone, the message is usually announced over the P.A.

*

Last week, we held the annual relay race day at the big city gym. About four or five buses drove up to the big complex. It has a spacious gym, equipped with a second-floor that has bucket seats on all four sides for spectators. Anyways, the kids sat down on the shiny wooden floor to listen to the principal's message in the morning.

Similar to three years ago, they proceeded quietly into the gym and somehow shimmied themselves into 20 lines divided by gender. They lacked chairs this time, so they ended up sitting on the floor with their legs bent at the knees. Their arms were lightly wrapped around them. You would never see my peers and I successfully do that back home when we were kids. We preferred sitting willy-nilly with our friends, legs crossed while we half-heartedly listened to the assembly.

Classic. This litttle thing: Japanese students getting seated in the way that they do. I'm going to miss that simple moment. I admire their obedience and their sheer devotion to having things done in an aesthetically-pleasing way. The way they sit also shows their adherence to group mentality, which bears its pros and cons. They sit quietly. They wait for the message. They wish for climate-controlled gyms. (I can't tell you how many times I've seen kids actually faint while sitting in the gym, because it's either too cold or too hot.)

Only in Japan

On Friday afternoon, I decided to hang out with the computer club members. They were in 3-1's classroom, busy drawing storyboards for their animated pics. They hope to design on a computer some day. For now, they are sharing one laptop because our makeshift school doesn't have a computer room.

Anyways, I ended up having a good talk with M-sensei, who runs the club. He's one of the friendlier faces in the staff room. He doesn't mind speaking Japanese and broken English with me, so that we can have some decent conversation. On Friday, he went around the computer club and told me the meaning behind each kid's name. He also told me R-kun has been dubbed "Fantastic Boy," because he manages to be late for school every morning. Fantastic. I told him my last name means something like "new town" in Spanish. Oh, internationalization.

I'll always remember M-sensei, because he was one of the first teachers to introduce himself to me in the staff room almost three years ago. He spewed random words he associates with Canada, such as: white bear, Anne of Green Gables and maple syrup. (He told me he loves maple syrup, so he only gives his kids a little bit when they have pancakes at home.)

Friday's chat with M-sensei included comparing and contrasting Canadian and Japanese culture. I told him I was really surprised about the differences between school life in Canada and Japan. I could write reams and reams of paper on this topic, but I'll just jot down a few notes for now:

School Life
Some differences I've seen:
- Kids in Japan have to wear uniforms. They basically wear them every day, even on the weekends and when they're out doing errands with their parents after school. I've only seen them in their civvies at rare opportunities like shopping on the weekends or the town festivals. They do wear them with pride, but I do wonder how many school tees they own.
- School lunch is delivered every day. Everyone eats the same meal. In elementary school, you are expected to eat everything.
- They don't sing the Japanese anthem in the mornings.
- When you ask a student to answer a question in class, it's OK to give them a moment to discuss the answer with their peers.
- Club activities are extremely important.
- All of the kids bike or walk to school. We don't get any yellow school buses!
- In general, the kids are pretty obedient. In my school, at least, you won't see a kid talk back to a teacher.
- It's OK to sleep during lessons.
- Indoor and outdoor shoes are required
- Kids are responsible for cleaning the school, including the toilets. Dang. When I help, I usually just grab a broom and sweep a classroom.
- School hours are vastly different. My kids spend most of their day at school, and even show up on weekends/holidays. It's a place where they can easily meet up with friends. We don't have nearby luxuries like the mall or movie theaters.
- Teachers work overtime, and will even report to school on weekends to run practices.
- At my school, the teachers will drive around neighbourhoods and creep on their homeroom students' homes. They want to make sure everything is on point. Sometimes, they have difficulty finding the homes, because addresses here are sometimes unclear.

Some similarities I've seen in Japanese and Canadian school environments
- Recess and P.E. are perennial favourites
- The peers in your homeroom are probably destined to become your best friends
- Passing notes in class is a popular pass time.
- There is still a divide between girls and boys
- There are cliques (in the staff room and in the classrooms)
- It's a treat to watch a movie in class. (It was funny to watch my kids watching the E.T. movie. They kept yelling "Kimoiiiiii...." ("Ugly!!!!") whenever E.T. popped up on screen.)
- If you act up in class, the teacher will ream you out.
- The principal appears to have a pretty sweet job. (Last week, he tried to join in a dodgeball game with the boys during lunch recess).
- School pride is a given.
- The most popular kids are the ones with cool haircuts.
- etc.

More observations on the uniqueness of Japan:
- Central heating is considered a luxury. Everyone lives in houses or apartments with thin walls lacking insulation. Using a kerosene heater indoors is the most common method to heat up your home during those chilly winter days. In Fuku, it is absolutely miserable from December to March when you're indoors. But you learn to deal, by running up your heating bills and staying warm with umeshu.

-Alcohol is readily available on the shelves of local convenience stores, grocery stores and some vending machines. 

- Most countryside kids help out on the farm. Te-chan, who happens to be one of my favourite students, was telling me about his family's two rice fields near the school. I also saw his family weeding our neighbourhood over the summer.

- During domestic flights, people use overhead bins on planes to stock their tell-tale paper bags of omiyage (R-chan and I had a chuckle over this when we were flying back from Fukuoka).

- Omiyage is the social lubricant that holds people together. Souvenirs, preferably individually-wrapped food, is distributed to colleagues after a trip that has taken you out of the office. The tradition gets expensive, but I don't mind doing it because it's been an ice breaker with my teachers. I think I was most touched when my JTE said that his daughter sleeps with the polar bear stuffed toy that I gave her last year. She calls him "Marron" (Japanese word for "Chestnut"), since his dark brown noise bears a striking ressemblance to the nut. I also can't forget how A-sensei remembered a year later that I handed out flavoured seaweed after my trip to Seoul. (That's right, people like seaweed as a snack.)

- Upon graduation from junior high school, most of my students cannot string together a proper sentence in English. Sure, they have English lessons starting in their first year at JHS. But the education system is so flawed, they don't learn any real communicative skills. Bless their little hearts, though.

- Students bring in their parents' empties for the school's recycling program.

- Drinks at izakayas and karaoke keep flowing.

- The mama-san (lady who owns a snack bar) prepared a banner, birthday cake and presents for my 26th birthday bash. I was never friends with bar owners before...

- It is highly suggested that I wear a surgical mask around illin' elementary school kids. People often wear them when they are coming down with a cold or flu. My JHS students also wear them to mask unsightly blemishes or to avoid being called upon during lessons.

- it's not strange to sing old classics from the Backstreet Boys with your students' mother. (It happened last year. She approached me at the see-saw, and started running through various BSB hits. Cutest thing ever.)

Tomodachi/Kodomodachi

I haven't written about my time back home, nor the whole journey getting out of Fukushima. Leaving Japan from March to April was a tough decision for me, and I haven't quite achieved putting down on paper what I want to say. Coming back was a tough decision, too. I can't tell you how my family, friends and even perfect strangers were asking me if it was the right thing to do. In foreign circles within Japan, people like me were dubbed "flyjin." It's a pun on the word "gaijin," which is slang for "foreigner" in Japanese. Sure, I flew the coop. Then, I came back. No hard feelings, right?

I made the decision to come back. Why? I feel like I belong in my community, but I also know that I will always be on the outside looking in. That is, people were happy to have me back. Even my local cabbies and the taxi dispatcher were pleased I was back in town after such a long time. (And I don't think it's just because I give them relatively good business). It has also been nice seeing friends I haven't seen in ages, and who will soon be scattered across the world in their own hometowns post-JET. On the other hand, it took some of my students a few days to have things pick up where we left off. I'm sure they realized I bounced out of Japan when I didn't show up for work in early April. But I feel like we're OK now. They're starting to tell me all the junior high gossip again, and the first-years tell me how excited they are to be in junior high.

It also really brightened my day to meet the new six-year-olds at one of my elementary schools yesterday. It was their first time to meet with me, and I'm guessing the first time most of them have met a real "foreigner." All day, I could hear them saying: "The English teacher is here! The Englsih teacher is here! Gemma-sensei! HARRRRRO! HARRRO!" Adorable.

I'm also really touched by the text message replies that I've been getting back from some of my kids who have already graduated. I don't really like "talking about my flair," but I am absolutely ecstatic when I hear from them. A-chan, a girl who graduated two years ago, wrote me a massively long e-mail just this evening. She wants to meet up for purikura (ie. taking sticker pictures together in a photo booth.) Her twin sister also texts me, and says she's quite busy trying to find an after-school job. She's now a student with a friend of mine, A-sensei. T-kun, who I saw biking the other day and now sports a cool buzz cut, is always telling me to cop the latest RADWIMPS album. Rice ball-kun writes about playing tennis and still finding English lessons difficult, even though he can write perfectly. Y-kun, who graduated three years ago, but still finds the time to tell me about his home stay experience in Canada. S-chan, who graduated in March, got her younger sister to deliver a handwritten note penned on kawaii Minnie Mouse paper.

I could go on about the other kids in my life, but I should really stop talking about my flair. Overall, all these messages make me feel like I've somehow made a strong connection. It's funny how kids from six to 18 years old are some of the people I know best these days.

I'm gonna miss all of these rugrats.

3.11

It was supposed to be a day of celebration. The third-graders at my school were getting ready for their graduation ceremony. This would be my third time experiencing bidding adieu to the senior students, so I thought I was familiar with the day's schedule.

It started off normally enough. I woke up early to curl my hair and wear my black suit. I parked my car on the soccer field, knowing the teachers' parking lot had to be left clear for the apres-graduation parade. I had my morning coffee in the staff room, then stealthily popped into the homerooms to snap some photos with grads. Everyone was pretty enthusiastic; the boys who never paid attention in English class even agreed to take a photo with me. The lengthy graduation ceremony was pretty routine - there were endless speeches, some songs were sung and the grads solemnly received their certificates from the principal. I shed tears when I saw the students do their final procession. Haruka-chan was the first kid who I saw bawling, so my eyes started welling up, too. It was also really difficult to watch Taiki-kun struggle during the entire ceremony. The poor kid's face lost all colour, and I thought he was going to vomit while sitting rigidly in his chair. Other teachers asked him three times if he wanted to be excused for the bathroom, but he wanted to experience his special day in its entirety. After the ceremony, I snapped more photos with the kids. I was especially excited to see the Takahashi family, because I've taught five of the kids (T-kun, J-kun, K-kun, J- kun and Kinou-chan). When 12:30 rolled around, the parents and the entire student body hopped into their cars or started walking home.

The rest of the teachers and I ate a special bento lunch in the staff room. I then spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for work to finish. I think I cleaned my desk. I placed a glittery knit hair scrunchie on my desk, a farewell gift that sweet Yusei-kun gave me after the ceremony. (I wish I had taken it with me!) A lot of the other teachers must've taken nenkyu, because people kept filtering away. Even my JTE had excused herself, but that's because her poor daughter was stuck at home with the chicken pox.

And then 2:46 p.m. rolled around.

We all felt the familiar rumble of an earthquake. I've experienced them before, and we usually just wait it out calmly. But a few seconds elapsed, and the tremors were getting stronger. The heavy kerosene heater behind my desk swaying. The school alarms started blaring. Things were toppling down from the bookshelves. That's when all of us teachers ran into the hallway. I was crouched on the floor, holding onto door frame with some other teachers. I remember kyoto-sensei closed the emergency slide door, cutting the hallway in half. We looked outside, as a strange snowstorm started brewing.

We waited for what seemed like forever, but it was probably only two or three minutes that we experienced strong waves of the building rocking violently. Dust was flying all over the place, ceiling tiles were jostled and windows cracked. It was so surreal.

When the shaking finally stopped, we ran into the staff room to quickly grab any personal belongings. The teachers' room was an absolute mess. Everyone's desk had been displaced so much, that the drawers spewed out everyone's papers. The heavy bookcases no longer contained binders and the like. I guess I paused for a long moment, because the P.E. teacher, who is one of the friendlier faces in the staff room, grabbed my arm and we both rushed outside. The teachers and I stood in the parking lot, as large snowflakes dropped from the March sky. I remember K-sensei repeatedly saying: "Chotto hen tenki. Chotto hen tenki." ("What strange weather...") And then the sun burst into the sky.

We thought the worst was over. However, we moved onto the soccer field and saw the damages. Poor Motomiya 2nd J.H.S. The sliding doors of each classroom had popped out, while the picture windows were in shards. The old school gym was now leaning to the side, with its walls peeling off like cardboard. Y-sensei had retrieved four helmets from his car, and was wearing one of them. We all joked about his preparedness for disasters.

Then a wave of "aftershocks" followed. They felt so strong that we had to crouch low on the soccer field. I remember holding onto Ooki-sensei's hand, both of us hissing "Kowaiiiii." (Scary...) She's a friendly thirty-something Japanese language teacher at my school. We rarely talk, but I was really grateful for her comfort that day.  Everyone joked that it was a good idea she had changed out of her graduation kimono earlier.

The aftershocks kept going and going. Someone brought out a portable radio. C-sensei told me the earthquake reached 6 on the Japanese scale. (These days, the Tohoku earthquake is considered a 9.0-magnitude earthquake). All of my teachers were getting ready to go home. They suggested I go bunk down with friends for the night. Earlier, I had asked if they had experienced anything like it.

It was a first for everyone.

It would only be in the late evening that I'd learn about the true severity of the earthquake. Sure, my school got destroyed and everything in my house got tossed around. We would see a tsunami wiping out entire cities and villages on the coast. It was like watching a movie. And then we would later about the trouble at the Fukushima nuclear complex...

がんばろう、日本！がんばろう、東北！(Let's hang on Japan. Let's hang on, Tohoku.)

Music makes the world go 'round

Sitting on the plane bound for O-town, I was flipping through a fresh copy of the Globe and Mail while a movie played on my personal television monitor. In "The King's Speech," Colin Firth's character was able to temporarily overcome his stutter while reciting Hamlet's soliloquy.

The cure? His doctor blared classical music into his headphones, so that he wasn't self-conscious when attempting to do some public speaking.

The song happened to be a popular piece from Mozart. Give it a listen here. And it just so happens this is the exact musical cue that my junior high school used every day. When this song played over the P.A. system, everyone dropped what they were doing for cleaning time. I'd try to clean with a different homeroom every day. I'd "clean" by sweeping the dust bunnies away and moving a few students' desks around.

I remember when T-kun to moonwalk while sweeping the floor. He learned his moves during P.E. with M-sensei. I remember the adorable second-grader at elementary school, who insisted on holding my hand for the entire 15 minutes we had to wipe down the dust from his classroom's bookshelves. At Iwane ES, little Tsubasa-kun would ask me tons of questions in English only. It was pretty impressive, considering he is about nine years old but speaks better than my 15-year-olds. T-kun's classmates giggled, probably in wonder that Tsubasa could hold down some decent conservations with me. "Gemma-sensei, what subject do you like? What is your favourite food? Do you have a boyfriend? My brother is going to kindergarten next year. Yada, yada yada."

I'm also thinking in the "past tense," because things in Fuku will never be the same. While the communities are trying to regain a sense of normalcy at school, school life is different. My JHS kids are even stuck studying at a local community centre, because our old building has been deemed unsafe after the earthquake. It didn't collapse, thank goodness. The building, however, is covered in destructive cracks. The ceiling tiles were collapsing. The sliding doors and window of most classrooms popped out. The building itself is such an important part of the neighbourhood. This is where the kids would spend the majority of their time, week in and week out. After classes, they'd spend hours after school and even on weekends at club activities. And now, the school is crumbling. But fortunately, I've read a recent newsletter that explains we should be returning to 2chu by this June. Talk about a massive "cleaning time."

It's funny how a music clip on my journey back to Ottawa, reminded me of my second home on the other side of the world...

An outsider looking in

From Reuters:

"Bangkok-based photographer Damir Sagolj

"What fascinates me is the way ordinary Japanese are reacting to this catastrophe. After all the tragedies I have covered in my career, I must say that this one is very special: no looting, no fight for food, fuel or place in shelters (though they need them, it is cold and they are hungry). They wait in lines that are kilometres long for fuel as if they are on a promenade and will chat with others while waiting for ice cream. I panic when my vehicle has only half of tank! The other day in one of the shelters a woman returned a piece of clothing she received earlier from aid workers. The jacket was too big for her daughter and she folded it back and returned to the distribution centre. She could have kept it and maybe sell or exchange it for something else she needs. But, not in Japan; it’s fascinating, the order and discipline of people experiencing the worst days of their lives. There are no tears and no screaming in front of our lenses, just a silent grief. I don't know where this calmness comes from. What in their culture or history makes them so special? I don't even know is it good or bad. Can they really process all the sorrow without venting it with tears? I'm so impressed by their behavior and power to stay cool in such a situation that it feels really stupid to write how cold I was sleeping outside while covering this story. Or to talk about whatever happens or will happen while here, before boarding planes to take us back to the comfort of our homes.”

バンコク支局カメラマン　Damir Sagolj 普通の日本人がこの大惨事に対処する様子に興味を持った。これまでいろいろ悲劇的な出来事を取材してきたけれど、今回はまったく特別だと言うほかない。略奪はないし食料や燃料や避難所での居場所　をめぐる争いもない。みんな寒くて空腹であるにもかかわらずだ。この人たちは燃料を手に入れるために数キロもの列をつくって待っている。まるで遊歩道でおしゃべりしながらアイスクリームを買うために並んでいるかのように。 私はといえば車のガソリンが半分しかないことでパニックになる！ ある日のことだ。ひとりの女性が避難所で服を返していた。前に受け取ったその上着は自分の娘には大き過ぎたのだという。きちんと折り畳んであった。彼女はその服を取っておいて後で売ったり、別のものと交換したりすることもできたはずだ。しかしこの国は違う。人生で最悪の時期にいる人たちが持つ秩序と規律、そういうものに私は引きつけられる。 私たちのカメラのレンズの前で涙を流したり、泣き叫んだりする様子は見られない。そこにはただ静かな悲しみがあるだけだ。この穏やかさがどこから来るのか私には分からない。日本の文化や歴史の何が日本人を特別なものにしているのだろうか。わたしにはそれが良いことなのか悪いことなのかも分からない。彼らはこの悲しみをすべて涙と一緒に洗い流すことなく乗り越えていけるのだろうか。 こんな状況で冷静さを保っている被災者たちの態度と力に心を打たれたので、今回の取材で外で寝ることになって、どれほど寒かったかについて書くことがまったくばかばかしく思えてきた。ここにいる間に起きたことやこれから起きるであろうことを暖かいわが家に帰るための飛行機に乗る前に語ることも."

On the road to recovery

On Sunday night, my family and I attended a charity event designed to raise funds for the affected areas in the Tohoku region. At present, I think they have raised about $10,000 based on ticket sales alone. JETAA Ottawa and the Canada-Japan Society of Ottawa still have to count the proceeds amassed from the silent auction! There were a lot of interesting goods available. I even recognized my brother's friend's family's bakery, Boko Bakery, had delivered some kawaii desserts.

By now, I think that everyone has caught a glimpse of the shocking images caused by the recent triumvirate of disasters in Japan. But had asked the fundraiser's organizers if I could share a few words with the audience, hoping to inject a local connection into the cause.

As I read out my short piece, my voice cracked as I talked about leaving my community back in Japan. Still, I was touched to see my family in the room. Even my brother came up to me afterwards, and gave me a hug. And I'm even a blip of his Twitter feed, which is really thoughtful! I had a handful of people come up to me throughout the evening, giving me their genuine appreciation and even sharing some of their personal stories related to Japan.

But there was one acquaintance who really struck me. His Excellency Kaoru Ishikawa, who is the recently-minted Japanese ambassador to Canada. His speech re-iterated that Japan will recover after all of this devastation. He even pulled out a copy of Newsweek, showing a photo of the tsunamis' aftermath that have clung to his memory. He also highlighted the key role Canada is playing in the relief efforts. I liked that his speech was bringing everything into an international landscape. And I would later be taken aback that this Japanese ambassador can speak French flawlessly. (I overheard him talking to another patron in it.)

When I finished my speech, I slowly made my way over and asked for a photo opportunity with the ambassador. (What can I say? I like meeting celebs. Romeo Dallaire. K'naan. Stephen Lewis). He gladly set down his glass of white wine, and wished me all the best as my mom snapped a photo. When his Excellency was about the leave the venue, I was prepared to at least exchange bows with him or get a quick handshake. But he actually did like the French, and gave me a quick peck on both cheeks. In my experience, Japanese perfect strangers prefer extending a handshake or bowing.

Oh, grassroots internationalization.

On another note... if you are interested in making a contribution from Canada, the Red Cross is accepting donations online. I don't really like soliciting things, but Fukushima-ken is truly my second home. And this community needs all the help it can get to recover...

***
"My name is Gemma Villanueva. I was born and raised in Ottawa, but have called Fukushima my home for the past 2.5 years. I have been teaching English in Motomiya, a small countryside city nestled in the middle of the prefecture.

On the day of the 9.0-magnitude earthquake, I was working at school with the rest of the teachers. Fortunately, the entire student body and other guests were home after the graduation ceremony that morning. At 2:46 in the afternoon, the staffroom started rocking side-to-side, violently tossing our desks, chairs and bookshelves around. We first crouched outside in the hallway, watching the walls crack and heavy dust coming from the ceiling. The rest of the teachers and I then rushed onto the soccer field behind the school. The weather was strange as well. One minute, big snowflakes were dropping from the sky. The next, the sun was shining. And then big aftershocks followed. We listened to the Japanese radio, reporting about the destruction happening across the Tohoku area. It was surreal.

I flew back into Ottawa last Tuesday. I will be staying temporarily, due to the nuclear concerns and the shortages in food and supplies. It was a tough decision for me to come back. Fukushima has truly become my second home. It’s a beautiful place filled with gentle rolling hills, beautiful beaches and lovely people. I have left behind my friends, my students and my colleagues in difficult times.

I am so thankful for the fundraising efforts, such as this evening’s event. The kanji behind Fukushima means “Lucky Island.” I’d say we’re so lucky to receive so much love and support as we recover and rebuild after these disasters. Your support will be helping the people in Japan who have been affected by the disasters. Thousands have lost their homes and loved ones. As his Excellency Kaoru Ishikawa, the Ambassador, has just mentioned in his speech, I can say "Let's gambarimashou!"

Thank you."

Surreal

It's been just over a week that Fukushima was destroyed by a 9.0-magnitude earthquake, which released an unfortunate series of reactions. Not only are we faced with the usual aftershocks, but also tsunamis wiping out the coastal towns and problematic nuclear reactors.

I don't know where to begin my story. I think I'll put it off for another day. I have been through a whirlwind of emotions this week. But I just want everyone to know that I am safe in Tokyo, having sought refuge with lovely relatives. 

I am thankful for the love and support I've received from family, friends and colleagues. There was Masanao-sensei who pulled my arm, forcing me to dash out of the school as it swayed from the aftershocks. The countless FuJETs (and honourary FuJETs) who have been such an amazing support network. The overworked city officers, especially my BoE. The local Japanese people. The teachers. My Japanese father (aka my supervisor). The volunteers who have gone up to Fukushima to help with relief efforts. The nuclear plant workers who are risking their lives while doing their best to battle the reactors. My parents. My brother. My cousin and wife, who are in the midst of nursing me back to health from this experience. My students, who are reminding me that life can go on after such trauma. (S-chan got into Asaka High School! She texted me from her brand-new iPhone. 'Atta girl!) Brent's updates online. Dougie's reassuring words on Facebook. Buster. My keitai. That Landcruiser.

There are so many people (and a certain fluffy Maine Coon) to thank. I could go on. You know who you are. Words cannot sufficiently express my gratitude. 

For now, I'll retire to bed. One day, I'll share my story. I'll tell you one thing. It's been surreal.

Hold your applause?

"Are Ms. Gemma's parents Mexican-American?" I asked aloud. Students scrambled in their groups, one member poised over their whiteboard with my janky washable markers. They ran up to my team-teacher, S-sensei, most of them with the correct answer: "No, they aren't." (One group wrote "Yes, they are." Come on, kids! I've told you time and time again that I'm from Canada. But my parents are from the Philippines!)

This morning, I had my final English lesson with Homeroom 3-2. They're a lovely bunch of kids, who I've taught since they were in their first year at junior high school. Fast forward 2.5 years later, and they're now gearing up for graduation. I won't forget B-kun, who is the former student council president who worked extremely hard. There's also S-chan, a bespectacled girl who speaks English amazingly well but with a cute lisp. (She has carved a special nook in my heart! S-chan has done the English Speech Contest twice with me, plays the piano well, excels in most subjects, is a star table tennis player and has confided in me about her social life.) And of course, T-kun, a lovable and chubby kiddo who was the power hitter for the school's baseball team. He tried to teach me the school song when I first got here, but my Japanese was nowhere near up to snuff. 

Anyways, I played a trivia game with 3-2 this morning. My JTEs let me have a special "farewell" class for my graduating students. So, I prepared some activities for them. I asked questions from assorted categories. "Name three cities in Canada. Does Ms. Gemma like natto? You studied about Tsutomu Aragaki in your second year. Where was he from? etc." They moved their game pieces around the blackboard. (This was the first time I fashioned a Mario Kart game on the blackboard. I think they enjoyed it, especially since I had Mario Kart sounds. Moreover, I pronounce "Yoshi" in a hilarious manner.) We also completed a worksheet on the lyrics to the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way."

It was a bittersweet lesson. It was really nice to see them get excited when I handed out personalized postcards and CDs for each kid. The students were also keen to snap one last photo with me! It was a nice feeling.

But at the end of class, we did our usual "good-bye" to signal the end of class. The kids remained standing, and gave a nice thank you card to my JTE. I left empty-handed. It was a slightly crushing moment. I mean, I've taught these kids longer than my JTE has. (No offense). But it truly feels like their homeroom teacher didn't remind them to write me up something. (All subject teachers, in general, get a message from the graduating students.) I shouldn't have taken this so personally. I haven't gotten "thank you" notes from every graduating class I've taught in the past. 

In fact, I should be thankful for the appreciation I get in other ways. My cell phone and e-mail inbox are getting a slow trickle of texts from students who are brave enough to try and write to me in English. If I run into my JHS students around town, I know they'll come over to say "Hi!" They know that I know all 266 of them by first and last name, which isn't something all ALTs can do! (Warm fuzzies for me, thank you very much). 

I guess it's important for me to remember that it's not always the physical mementos that prove you've made a difference in a student's development. 

Around the water cooler

I have a lot of things to write about. The trip back home in December. The trip to the Philippines in February. But for now, I'll just commit to memory some funny things that have happened at work recently:

- Y-kun, a 12-year-old boy who can't speak English very well: "Hey, baby!" (I think that he watches too many movies.)
- G-kun, one of my second-grade boys, was walking around the hallways at lunch today with his eyes shut. Why? His friends drew cartoonish eyes on his eyelids. Did I mention it was in permanent marker? Ridiculous! I wanted to snap a photo, but that would only encourage them to do it again. His friends surrounded me, saying in their accented English: "INTERESTING! INTERESTING!" I laughed, but quickly retorted: "Uh, NOT interesting?!" Poor kid.
- I was eating lunch with my six-year-olds. K-chan is one of the spunkier kids of the bunch. (I've also taught her three older brothers. And when I've mentioned in passing that their tiniest sister is ADORABLE, they don't do the normal brotherly reaction of "No way!" In fact, they tell me in English: "Thank you!" My heart melts). Anyways, back to K-chan. So, she looks up at me with her brown eyes and asks: "Gemma-sensei, do you like someone?" I told her no. And then I asked her the same question, and the tiny heartbreaker says, "Yes! But I bet you can't guess who!" I couldn't.
- I got a text from one of my former students. I met him when he was a mere junior high school student. This spring, he will be entering his third (and final) year in high school. He said he wants to talk to me at the upcoming JHS graduation, because he's coming to see his little sister walk the stage. How time flies!

La maquette

Pendant ma jeunesse, j'ai étudié mes leçons étaient conduites en français. Quand j'avais 10 ans, j'étais en cinquième année chez l'école Lamira Dow Billings. Je me souviens d'un projet bien intéressant sous la direction de Monsieur Tremblay. On avait l'opportunité de faire des recherches concernant un pays étranger: le Japon.

Chaque étudiant avait fait une maquette illustrant les îles qui composent le Japon entier. J'ai utilisé beaucoup de pâte modèle et de la peinture. Au fin du projet, notre classe a payé une visite chez l'ambassade du Japon. Je pense qu'on a fait de l'origami et on a reçu des livres dont le sujet était le Japon.

C'est bien drôle que je me suis rendu au Japon juste lorsque j'ai célébré mon 24ième anniversaire. Je n'ai jamais rêvé de déménager ici, travaillant comme ALT. Ça fait presque trois ans que je me suis fait parti de cette petite communauté plein de riz... et de riz.

* That's right. I wrote the above blog in French, mostly to see if I can still express myself in that foreign language. It's funny how I've dabbled in various foreign languages, but I can't say I've mastered any. French. Spanish. Cebuano. Japanese. I can understand all of these languages to varying extents, but I'm not fluent in any of them.

Do the chicken dance

The accordion music started blaring on the CD blaring, producing wales of laughter from about sixty first-graders at my school. I didn't explain what was going on; we just started doing the chicken dance. It was pure hilarity! Kids flapped their wings and spun round and round. In the end, they didn't think they looked like chickens. In fact, they thought the dance looked more like we were all getting ready to take a bath.

It's funny how they can't exactly do their morning greetings in English without some help from me. But as I was handing out reward stickers, one of the little boys yelled "Bonjour! Bonjour!"

Kids say the funniest things.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

And so it begins. The countdown to going back home.

My looming departure felt real when I told my two JTEs (Japanese Teachers of English) about my plans to go back to Canada this summer. It happened today during break times. I always walk back to the teachers' room with either Y-sensei or S-sensei after our lessons. It was the easiest time for me to let my secret slip out. They both seemed saddened by the news. S-sensei even invited me to his family's new home, and said his daughter is looking forward to playing with me! (I gave her a really cute polar bear last year for Christmas. I'm cool in her books.)

Every February, The JET Programme asks current JETs to submit their intentions for the following contract year. Friday's the deadline.

I have my reasons. I want to spend time with my parents and brother. I want a job that challenges me in a different way. I want to leave the JET bubble. I want to live daily life with complete knowledge of what's going on around me. (Although I've lived in Japan for three years, my Japanese skills are really limited. I've improved leaps and bounds from when I first got here, but things are still shades of grey.)

I will miss a lot of things about this place. The friends I've met along the way. The lovely people in my town. My Pretty in Pink Apartment. Haruto the Car. The gas station attendants. But most of all, my students.

Today, I was going over class lists and writing out the club activities each graduating student has completed over their time at 2chu. M-chan was like "What?! You can read all of our names in hiragana? And you know what club we've all joined?!" Yup, I'm going to miss them. (Not gonna lie - M-chan had to correct me. I thought some of the computer kids were actually part of the table tennis club, ha!) I will be using that info to write about 95 graduation "postcards," wishing them all the best when they graduate in March. An epic feat, but I really like the kids. (Although last year's graduating class was something special. Awww....)

Better recognize

(I haven't written about my visit back home over the holidays. I'll write about it soon. It was three weeks filled with family, good friends and food. Nom.)

I'm slipping back into life in Motomiya. My place is in a state of clutter, so I spent the bulk of last weekend trying to get things organized. I even bought a cheap paper shredder to start destroying some of my documents. Nerd alert, I know. Not that I really have anything top secret at home, but I do have notes and other stuff from work. Garbage bags are rather transparent, so I'd rather not have my neighbours all up in my business. Especially since their kids probably go to my schools, ha.

Some bills and upcoming expenses have to be paid up, so I've taken to being a hermit again. It was also sumo weekend, so most people hit up Tokyo to watch the fights and then party at AGEHA. It sounds snobbish... but I've already been there and done that. If I had the extra yennies to spend, I would've been down there in a heartbeat! I was still able to go out a couple times over the weekend. On Friday night, I hopped into my cab and with one of my regular drivers, Smoking-san, who told me about possible sightseeing places my parents would like to visit next month. I ended up taking the train to Koriyama, where I met up with some friends to celebrate E's great news: my Filipina sistah from another mother is getting married in the fall! Like whoa. We indulged in some drinks at one of the Koriyama JETs' fave spots: Georgia.

On the walk to meet my friends in front of the conbini, I was busy texting while crossing the street. I could hear someone hissing: "Gemma... Gemma..." By the time I looked up, I realized it was one of my former students. I didn't want to chase him down, but I thought it was pretty funny that he tried to call me over. He's a second-year student in high school these days; he also works at one of the local gas stations, so I still see him around.

I will miss having kids hiss my name as I stride over to a convenience store for a quick beer with my friends. That's a loaded sentence. But it's one of my "Only in Japan" moments that I want to remember.