Do you know what sound a cicada makes? While some people make the extremely inadequate comparison and the call of a cicada is akin to the chirp of a cricket, some prefer a more hyperbolic simile: a cicada’s call is like the brain infiltrating technology that one may find in the earlier episodes of ‘Star Trek’. In the Pacific Northwest hearing a cicada is somewhat of a rarity. However, having lived in the woods for the better part of my life I was lucky enough to grow up with the memory of gazing into the forest searching for the lone cicada crying somewhere in the trees. Either way one looks at it, there are two things that are undeniably true about the cry of a cicada: to the unaccustomed ear it can be aneurism-inducing; and summer is in full swing.
In the short time since my last entry the once seemingly endless clouds of the rainy season have certainly parted, as too have the clouds of worry and stress about my lack of a driver's license. After failing my first attempt at the Japanese driver’s license test nearly two months ago, I became determined to do what ever it took to get that piece of plastic in my grips. The first change in my strategy was to give in to the bureaucracy of the Japanese DOL. In other words, I reserved a personal driving teacher who taught me all the secrets to the driving course and ensured success if I chose to follow his advice. These personal driving teachers charge a cool 10,000 yen per hour, roughly $100 USD.
The so-called practical driving course
Equipped with the secrets only money can buy, I took the two-hour drive down south to Chosa; I didn’t need a map or directions anymore. I arrived a few minutes before 0800 in the morning. Once I reached the entrance to the driving course I was surprised to see my personal teacher waiting there at the entrance to the driving course, huddled under his pink umbrella inhaling deeply on what was certainly not his first cigarette of the day. He handed me an extra umbrella and we set out on foot for a last minute stroll around the driving course, reviewing the key points as we slowly turned each corner. The time before my test was a blur. I was in a deep, meditative state. One moment I was sitting uncomfortably on the benches in the waiting area reading 'Shogun', the next I was poised in front of the steering wheel, engine humming, wrenching my neck to complete the essential five point check. I slowly pulled out of station 3 and I slipped into a trance.
｢大丈夫です。｣ “Alright”, the proctor said at the conclusion of my test; he never looking up from his clipboard.
Bending down to the window I asked quizzically, 「合格ということですか。」 “You mean, I passed?”
「そうですね。おめでとう。」 “That’s right. Congratulations”, said the proctor, his voice was the epitome of frankness.
I melted away from the driving course, overwhelmed by the euphoria of passing, humbled by the proctor’s kindness and thankful that the battle had at long last come to a close.
Pass with a capital P
For the past couple weeks I have been making my rounds to school and saying my goodbyes before the long summer vacation. At most schools there was no special plan for the last day of English class. To my delight, however, some schools, coincidentally my favourites, planned something special for my last visit. At one school the teachers asked me to tell the students about what summer break is like in the United States of America. When I asked how long the speech should be and if I should speak in English or Japanese, the teacher said with a hopeful smile, ‘Please, make speech. Thirty minutes, OK. All English. Yes.’ I embarrassingly let out a small laugh and asked him if he were serious. He was serious. Luckily, he was also seriously flexible. After my ten-minute speech, which included everything from BBQs, Camp Schechter and Skyhawks to boating, Civic Light Opera Theater camp and trips to Hood Canal, we moved to the gym and spent the rest of the period playing ‘Duck, duck, goose’. I was unbeatable.
Last Friday was my official last day of classes. The week before I had been invited by one of my teachers to join the children in the pool for swimming class after our final hour of English has finished; every elementary and junior high school in Akune has a pool. I gladly accepted the invitation and showed up to school the next week ready to swim. After a quick rinse in the shower I followed all the kids into the pool for a brief lesson in breath stroke. And then it was free time. As I was being chased by the designated pool demon, similar to Marco Polo, I pondered just how far I had come. One year of teaching under my belt. Struggling some days and wishing some would never end. Dwelling on this thought for a moment too long, I was viciously mauled by the pool demon.
Yesterday I arrived in Tokyo to assist the annual Tokyo Orientation for the newly arriving participants of the JET Programme. After the conclusion of the orientation I will board a flight home to meet my anxiously awaiting family. Don’t get me wrong; I have been waiting to go home, too.
In light of the completion of one year as a JET and my acceptance into the Japanese society as a licensed driver, I would like to leave you with this Japanese proverb:
苦あれば楽あり (ku-areba raku-ari)
Every cloud has a silver lining.
Akune Elementary and Junior Hish School Staff volleyball tournament
Brick oven-roasted pizza with friends from Warabe Ceramic studio in Nagashima
Steamed kabocha with lemon custard
