Feelings

Difficult to name, impossible to ignore.

The feeling(s):

-      when a group of junior high school san nensei (third graders) pass you in an energetic, post-soji (cleaning time) state, and greet you with exuberant waves to which you respond with a cheery “good afternoon”, which they echo. Then, as you are still just within earshot, you hear one ask, “dou imi?” (“What’s the meaning [of those words]?”)

-      when the guidance counselor brings up the fact that you’ve only got two months left and how it’s sad, but how you must be looking forward to going home. All in Japanese. And then you do your best to find a way to convey your mixed emotions on the subject, and realize the clearest, most concise answer you can give is to say “hanbun, hanbun” (half, half) and hope she can guess your meaning.

-       when sending professional but personable emails to your successors explaining the logistics of getting to school, school-life, and life in general in a place you've called home for two years.

-       when a bright but incredibly shy first-grade junior high student approaches you after class with a white wool coaster and cup holder she made herself..

...while another gives you some hand-made
foam "macaroons"and a note in romaji.

-        of sudden and suffocating loneliness that inexplicably sneaks up on you in a staffroom full of people who would help if you knew how to let them.

-       when your elementary school students ask you not to forget them, and you promise you won’t, knowing that you will them, and they will you. It’s a matter of self-preservation.

-       when your favorite Japanese Teacher of English (JTE) proudly shows you a book of “new” (including the Beatles, the Carpenters, and the Barenaked Ladies) English songs she hopes to incorporate into future classes, and you think, “she will be fine without you. They will be fine without you.”

-       when another JTE (who has always meant well, even if he’s never managed to take your could-be contributions and sure-would-be-worth-a-try's seriously) tells you that his plan for the third graders to write you goodbye letters is “more difficult than I thought” because “they don’t know you outside class.” Translation: They cannot come up with five original sentences to say to you because almost all your attempts to contribute to class in a personal yet educational manner have been thwarted by me.

-       after a JTE you’ve been attempting to fake a healthy working relationship with for the past twenty-two month turns to you, telling you that he would like to know what the (amazing!) JTE at your other school does with her students (because the exam results of his students were “not good” and entrance exams for high school are looming), and all you can think is, “where do I start?!” followed by, "Why are you asking me NOW?!"

-       of a gratitude so deep that it would be impossible to put into words even if a common language were a reality. As it is, you cannot articulate yourself gracefully in Japanese, nor can many of the people concerned understand the nuances and intricacies of how you’d love to tell them in English. 

-       when, your official quitting time (4 pm) looming on a sunny Friday afternoon, you know you’ve got another three-plus hours of prep and marking to do if you want a smooth start Monday morning, and you think to yourself, “could be worse. I could be a teacher for real. This could be my reality until I retire.”

-       of knowing, for a fact, that this is the reality of the teacher sitting beside you. The reality, in fact, of nearly all of the teachers you work with. Bless them.

-       when you pour yourself into an activity or worksheet only to have the kids meet it with lukewarm interest and half-hearted participation.* Can you blame them? It’s sixth period, they’re tired, and they still have two hours of club activities after school. And besides, English hasn’t been fun since its novelty in elementary school, when the emphasis was on oral communication and interaction, rather than copying grammar points and memorizing passages on (among other topics) the bombing in Hiroshima.

*Thankfully, this one went over well!

-       when you’re correcting writing assignments where students were supposed to write an email to friend or to you (due to the inclusion of colloquial expressions), and you stumble across several “Hi Grandma. What’s up?”

-       when one of your favorite, most promising students stops in the hallway to chat as you’re taking a photo of this: 

It was hotter in the classrooms.

and you tell him, “it’s very hot. I want to show my family.” To which he replies, “oh, in Russia…very cold?”

-       when you’re up before the sun on a Saturday to prep a Monday morning goodbye lesson before heading to a weekend Frisbee tournament with some of your favorite people.

Beautiful - inside and out!

-      when you make the difficult decision not to hike Mt. Fuji with thirty-some friends, several of whom have become your nearest and dearest in Japan, simply because, with two and a half weeks of last lessons, formal farewell parties, and goodbye speeches (to say nothing of the practical to-do's that accompany transcontinental relocation), something’s got to give. 

-       of sobering finality in the goodbyes with Japanese students, co-workers, and locals (not so with the jet-setting foreigners and internationally-minded Japanese friends who you will, God-willing, see again).  

-       of not being ready to go, but knowing that it's time.