One early morning in the late summer
It goes without saying that this is my first update in a while, my first entry, in fact, since the new school term has started. Yes, second term is in full swing and my job is getting easier with each passing day. I mean this in a number of ways. For one, the relationships between my fellow teachers and students, who number about twenty and five hundred and twenty, respectively, are becoming more solidified. Despite the fact that I still hear gasps and induce body-jolting flinches when walking through the halls, I feel that the students I teach are becoming more accustomed to my presence; the only thing that disturbs me is that some of my kids still insist on calling me by the name of the previous teacher. As for my fellow teachers, both at the elementary and junior high school level, I think our communication has improved ten fold, and by improved I mean that I asked the board of education to demand that a lesson plan be sent at least one day before class. This new system, which the teachers have graciously chosen to abide by is without question making the flow and content of classes a lot better. Now all we need is the students to catch on. Working out these logistics has certainly made my job easier. Nothing, however, make my teaching in an open-air school more manageable than a five-degree drop in the temperature.
It was about four weeks ago when the Autumnal Equinox occurred in Japan. This is a fairly special and celebrated holiday in Japan: it signifies the start of the fall season; it is said to be the night when the full moon shines the brightest, sparking all sorts of moon-watching events; and it is a time when agriculturalists, namely rice farmers, implore Mother Nature in hopes for a successful harvest. On the night of the equinox the moon was indeed shining brilliantly and when I awoke the next morning a very calm, cool breeze had taken over my apartment. It was as if the Japanese calendar had come into just to tell me, “Trust me, when I say it’s time far autumn, it’s time.”
When I wrote my last entry, I believe I was still sleeping atop two ice packs, my sacred havens of icy relief, with the AC on full blast. Indeed, I spent the days of late August and most of September struggling not to sacrifice excess body fluid and battling to stay hydrated while doing, well, anything from cooking dinner in the evening to folding up my bedding in the morning before work. Knowing that the twenty-four hour sauna that is late summer whether would end soon, I trudged along with my daily routine as usual, paying extra visits to the air-conditioned library in the middle of town.
Everyday of summer vacation seemed to run together (mind you, when I say summer vacation it is not the same as in the States where teachers and students alike are not at school (teaching staff are at school everyday during the summer and students, for the most part, are at school involved in some sort of club activity (this is most certainly the same for all civil servants including the board of education, which yours truly is a proud member))). That was until the day I decided to get a haircut. I saddled up in the barber chair at my barber, Sunabata, and received, as always, a pleasurable cut, shampoo and straight razor shave. About half way through my shave I got a call from Captain Matsunaga.
“Asher, another one just arrived.”
“…”
“It’s a yacht. They’re from Holland, and what’s more, they speak great Japanese”
“Oh, so I guess you don’t need me to come, right?” I said jokingly.
“You gotta be kidding. Come meet these guys at Harmonican as soon as you can.”
For the next ten days, I had the pleasure of sharing the company of Jaap and Marijke, a wonderful married couple from Holland that have been living and sailing around Japan for upwards of ten years. It was a blessing that they spoke such good Japanese. For one, they could go wherever they pleased without any trouble. More than that, though, was the fact that they could connect with the Captain and all of the Harmonican crew. In comparison to the yachters that have come before, the connection that the Akune natives made with Jaap and Marijke was far more solidified, at least in the aspect of communication and mutual understanding. What I can say for sure, though, is that Jaap and Marijke’s end off was done with much more forethought that the yachters who came before them. One word: streamers.
Jaap and Marijke
Goodbye Jaap Marijke
A few weeks into September the junior high schools started having their Sports Festivals. Sports festivals have been a part of the Japanese education system for decades and are taken quite seriously in my city and from what I gather all over Japan. Every year it’s the same: the White Team versus the Red Team. Teams are awarded points for superlative performance in sporting events, ranging from running relays to tug-o-war, and from obstacle courses and beanbag tosses, and sportsmanship. After witnessing both junior high and elementary school Sports Festivals, I can say with full confidence that the elementary schools bring the fire like no one else; you’d be surprised at the game of a Japanese first-grader.
Akune Junior high school’s Sports Festival, rain or shine
The Essassa dance
One thing that is very special about Akune’s elementary Sports Festivals is the tradition of welcoming back graduates that have turned 50-years old. Thus, the 50-year old team stands as one of the most anticipated events of elementary schools all over the city, and rightfully so. I witnessed the glory of the 50-year old team for the first time last year, mere months after starting my position in Akune. I was overwhelmed by the whole idea of Sports Festival and did not initially register the significance of the 50-year old team’s presence. That was until I attended this years elementary Sports Festival.
Sports day bento
Soran-bushi (Soran dance)
Tsurukawauchi Junior high school, Sports Festival
The torrential rains in the morning, although expected, shuttered the play fields’ white tents and all of the family members that sat under them, anxiously watching the sky, searching for any sign of a brake in the clouds. When the clouds finally broke at around half past ten, I was already on my way to my third school of the day; I would go on to visit six schools in total. To my disappointment, the dance that I was planning on seeing at Yamashita Elementary had been rescheduled. I missed the dance by mere minutes. However, once I was seated under the tent reserved for visitors and served a piping hot cup of green tea, the 50-year old team made their grand entrance. It was powerful. It was triumphant. It was all one could expect from a group of people that have been gathered from across the country for a 30-some-year reunion. The play field turned slightly somber when memorial speeches were given to those of the graduating class that had, unfortunately passed away. It is without a doubt, though, that the most memorable portion of the 50-year old team’s presentation was when the teachers of the 50-year old team made their appearance and received a bouquet of flowers and very heartfelt greetings from their former students. The look of awe on the faces of the teachers was something I might not have noticed last year, and will remember for a long time.
Speaking of Sports Festivals and old people, as I was watching the Okawa Junior high school sports festival I was approached by a man, Mr. Kawabata, who asked me if drank alcohol. I know, this may sound weird, but it was not the first time someone has struck up a conversation with that question. With some patience and tactful questions I found out that Mr. Kawabata was trying to invite me the Okawa community center’s Respect for the Elderly Day party. I was glad to oblige. What I assumed to be a very sleepy and short engagement turned out to be a hilarious event in honor of the community’s elderly, at the begin of which I was asked to give a short speech, and a celebration of the arts, which I was asked last minute to participate in. In the end I was glad I answered Mr. Kawabata’s question correctly, “Yes, I drink.”
The Hanya-bushi
I am indeed grateful for the encounters of my late summer and early fall. With these memorable experiences in mind I would like to leave you with a Japanese proverb that is often used in the context of tea ceremony and the concept of transience:
一期一会 (ichi-go, ichi-e)
Literally translated, this four-character idiomatic phrase means, one time, one meeting. There are numerous other translations for this phrase, but I will chose not to take the liberty and allow you the pleasure.
Until next time.
Summer vegetable dinner: pumpkin and chicken dumpling soup; okra; and goya stir-fry
Niku-jaga (braised beef) party
Raisin bread…from my rice cooker, no joke
Coming soon
