11.27.09

Today it rained and I finally got the chance to use the enormous umbrella I bought in Otaru. It was cold this morning but has warmed up and coming back from school I felt like singing for the first time in a long time, not because I needed to hear a voice, but because I felt it in my heart. No one is out on rainy days (though I saw two women hiding from the rain in the phone booth this morning) and it was very peaceful to walk back to the office singing.

Today was Datenisho. The sixth graders are out with influenza and some of the fifth graders are sick. First class was kind of a bust- I arrived a little late and hadn't looked at the plan properly. It was sort of a nothing lesson. The students cut out the little fruit cards, made their own parfait, put them on the board, then took turns being asked by me, "What do you want?". I say it was a nothing lesson since in the context of resturant or service, the question is inevitably, "What will you have?" or "What would you like?". The students don't usually remember or understand the questions they're asked in that format. My little boyish girl was so happy today. She is so tiny, affectionate, and androgynous (not helped by her wearing a black and red windbreaker, the signature colors of boys, emblazoned with the phrase "SUPERBOYS") but recently got these magnificent pink cats-eye glasses.
Anyway ended up just going along with the exercise which took all period.

Then, since the 6th graders were out, I had a free period and planned to spend it sitting peacefully, zoning out and staring at amazing cakes. Instead the two 6th grade teachers had apparently started a challenge that the two of them could only speak English. The lady teacher beckoned me into the kitchen area with the downward-facing palm, Japanese style, and a "Come on," then pointed urgently at the coffee maker and said, "What's this?" I answered coffee, to their delight, and she mimed setting up the machine, which I identified as "Making coffee". "Not 'coffee drip'?"
"No, make coffee. We make coffee."
"Oh, coffee 要る?"
"No, thank you. I have tea. I like tea." (the nice older lady had brought me some before and we had talked about food. She's been to China and said the meat was really delicious.)
She showed me the different types of tea she had and I read the label of each one. They didn't understand when I said that Earl Gray was bitter, and お茶 was bitter, but when I said that strawberry tea was sweet, and repeated that Earl Gray was bitter, they figured it out. The lady teacher is especially sharp. She showed me a photo of her two daughters, 20 and 17, and her husband in front of Mt. Yotei. Her daughter's going to Canada on the 5th of December (next week, holy crap), which is why she asked me last time for recommendations of souveniers. She had thought it was funny then that westerners just like stuff with kanji on them or things you can buy at the dollar store like hashioki or sensu.

Anyway after I praised her we talked a while about language and they said that my skills were うなぎのぼり. I thought this meant "like a snaking line" since unagi means eel, but after drawing several pictures they explained it was like an eel swimming upstream. I was incredulous since I'd never heard of such a thing and asked about salmon, and to my surprise, the lady teacher got on her coat and invited me to come see them swimming upstream. I'd been told about them in the fall but forgot in my spree of illness and company and who knows what. We went out together with our umbrellas, speaking only English. Sure enough, right beside the school is the same river that flows behind my house. We walked onto a little bridge and after a moment of surveying, I saw two white bodies against the dark rocks. I thought they were both dead, but one surged forward all of a sudden. We watched it and rooted it on, "Go! Don't give up!"
When it was out of sight another came through, body both black and white. We agreed it was probably dying. Being me I had to say, "Everyone is like that fish. Dying but fighting, too." It went the wrong ways a while, probably to rest, then tackled the stream again.
On the other side of the bridge one fish stayed in place, as if contemplating the step that it would have to jump. She told me sometimes the children throw rocks at the fish, even though they climb with all their might.

After we returned we spoke some Japanese and then it became English again. We talked about capital letters and lowercase letters, and print vs. cursive. Writing and speaking at the same time helped slow things down so it wasn't so tiring. Her handwriting is gorgeous and she was surprised to learn young people almost never use cursive.

Around that time the children came to fetch me for the second fifth grade class (the short haired lady teacher). This time the lesson turned out well. Full of fire and vinegar from speaking so much English, I jumped in and talked to them a bit extra in the あいさつ. Is it cold, is it hot, riding my bike I was cold, do you like cloudy days? I like gray, I like cloudy days, etc. The lesson was "What do you want?" and the kids seemed to really enjoy pronouncing the word cards (especially kangaroo, for some reason), which is kind of a first for me since most of the time the kids have an "Already know, don't need to practice anymore" attitude. It was good energy. Very good class.

For the "What do you want" part, they came and told me in the waiter/customer scenario and this time I went out of my way to act out the part, writing on an invisible pad, repeating the order back, and so on. They started to get into it. The girl who later showed me her silly drawings was also quite clever and asked, "What do you have?", a question a student has never been able to ask me.
Something about the material that really drives me crazy is that there is no continuation of lessons. Each lesson is isolated and once something is "learned" it is never brought up again. So I was very happy to see the kids using "Do you have". Their teacher must be good. In the end the students ended up listing as many items as they could, and one boy requested, "Pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza!" before breaking down into a giggling mess. I wanted to say, "call an ambulance" but couldn't remember the word. The teacher had me tell everyone how to say 10 pizzas and then I told them in English, "At a big party with friends... 10 pizzas. But just me? I can't eat ten pizzas! I eat one pizza. I'm so full. I eat... two... pizzas... Ahhh I'm gonna die. Three pizzas. Dead." (striking a pose with hands clutched into claws straight up, "laying" on my back)
The last girl asked, "Do you have big cake?"
"Yes! We have a big cake!"
"Big cake please."
I used the cake card, calling it a small cake, and made a gesture for an invisible, massive cake- almost as big as me. I gestured one enormous slice and said, "Just me. I can't eat a big cake. One slice. Full. Two slices. Dead." (same pose as before)
So yeah, that class went well.
It ended with the students jankening to see who would get to sit with me. Seriously, anyone with self esteem issues should teach fifth graders.

The two girls I saw with at lunch who won the tournament didn't speak, but were constantly making jokes with their facial expressions, pointing and gesturing where I needed to go. While talking to Big Cake girl about the movie Gremlins (she had a gizmo handkerchief), my tray disappeared. While waiting on its reappearance I asked the boy to my left for help reading an article. Unlike most boys I meet who won't talk to me at all, he seemed engaged in helping me. He had a trivia book and was interested in the trivia broadcast on the announcements they play through lunch, so maybe he's a learning type. Spent most of lunch kicking the boy across from him's feet and drinking his milk in 15 seconds.
The "Do you have" girl asked the boy to my left, "Do you have a beaver?". At first I was just sort of wtfing and wondering if they possibly understood the innuendo. I struck out that thought though when she showed me a drawing she had made. To be honest the internet would love this girl.
"It's Hamster," she told me proudly, pointing at the massive claws and huge dragon legs attached to a muscular body, topped with a tiny adorable hamster head, complete with a little ribbon around its neck. Come to think of it, this is the girl who gave me a paper chameleon. This girl is awesome. The rest of lunch she'd come over giggling like mad to show me some other concoction of hers, usually involving a small cute rodent being turned into a beast (and one stick figure Goku). Two other boys came to tell me they'd seen me in the summer. They used the word　こうほう which I didn't understand. Finally the teacher came and explained. Looking at the kanji it's a lot easier to understand: 公報 (public publication).
I had to scarf the end of my lunch since I'd talked too much and finished my milk in 12 seconds (I was sure to tap the boy who'd sat with me on the back and brag about this).

I left feeling pretty good about things, but was surprised after returning to the teacher's office when a gaggle of girls came for me (awesome drawing girl, big cake girl, and the two who won janken). We went to talk in the nearby meeting room. I naturally was more drawn to talk to awesome drawing girl, but the quietest little gal who won janken was playing around under the table and generally seeming left out. We had the obligitory pet conversation and I explained the meaning of sister (they thought I meant nuns, which I told them had the job of being everyone's sister, since religion says we're all family). When I asked her if she had a sister, I was shocked to learn she has seven younger sisters and one brother. She said there were two older children but they had died, one of an accident and the other of illness. When I suggested it must be a busy, warm home (like I had with adorably androgynous girl), she rejected the idea. They said her family fought every day. They have several pets, including a stag beetle, but she says their house is small. She volunteered the information that her father has three computers. It took me a while to take all this in.

Shortly after the chime sounded and the girls took off running and laughing. It was fun to talk with them and it was an amazing feeling to be liked by them, but it was also a little sobering to realize aside from the cultural pressure these kids feel, there are also kids with troubled home lives. I don't know about that girl or what her family's really like, but that's a lot of people, and it became clear to me why she was so eager for affection. やっぱり、these kids are dealing with more than just the classes. I can never doubt that assumption when teachers take the attitude that students don't learn the material because they are lazy or inherently bad.