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!