Thanksgiving Without the Feast

I'm some days late, but never too late to give thanks. There was no pumpkin pie for me this Thanksgiving, but it was definitely another chance to reflect.

To give thanks for the past year. To give thanks for the wonderful people in my life. To be grateful for my job, the food on my table, and the clothes on my back.

Yes, I'm thankful for all of those, and all of the other wonderful, cliche things we are thankful for. It's no coincidence that we all echo each other when giving thanks. We are truly lucky to have those things.

And then there are the blessings in disguise.

Thankful for regrets, for they might influence my decisions in the future. Thankful for the silver lining of having to push hurtful people away, because I'm able to make room for positive people. Thankful for the challenges, because they teach me that good things don't come easily. And if they do, I should be wise enough to actively preserve them.

Sometimes, we are thankful for the events we never foresaw. This year, I'm thankful to be living abroad. And grateful to be learning a new language. And thankful for meeting new people, and with that, having the chance to start with a clean slate.

But even with the new, I am still thankful for the old. Because even though I'm changing and people may not recognize me through the changes, I can say with confidence that those I've known the longest will love me unconditionally. And know me well enough to gently point me in the right direction, if need be.

I vocalize my gratitude during this commercial season of giving thanks, because just as we shouldn't limit ourselves to a single day of reflection, it's foolish to stop giving thanks, even for a single day.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Awkward Turtle

Last week, I returned a corrected assignment to a student. She had translated some Japanese sentences into English. A Japanese teacher of English (JTE) was walking with us. I complimented the student on her work, but I pointed out some sentences that I didn't understand. Then, I was in the middle of telling her that her grammar was mostly good, when the English teacher told me that she had in fact written most of the sentences. I didn't know what to say.

Awkward turtle.

And why had the teacher done most of the work? >_<

M.I.A.

I think it's time to put up a missing persons ad. After all, a certain Californian neglected her blog for the entire month of October. I would say she's been M.I.A., but missing in action does not seem like an appropriate description, I think.

Because, on the contrary, this Californian has been going back and forth between schools -- coaching students for speech contests and helping students prepare for university entrance exams -- getting involved in the community, and enduring the Halloween madness at schools. (As a cultural ambassador, I am strongly encouraged to teach about Halloween, and expected to be really excited about it. I decided to embrace it this year!) In addition to all of that, I've also been trying to study more Japanese. I started up lessons again. Currently, there's a battle dawning between my inner nerd and my gym rat tendencies. Don't feel sorry for me, though. I make the time to have a little fun here and there. ;)

So, ironic as it may be, I will apologize for being M.I.A. until someone comes up with a better acronym. I would do it, but as you've just read, I have bigger fish to fry. (As a vegetarian, can I even use that idiom?)

またね！

Memories from Taiwan: Every Child is an Artist

“Everychild is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once wegrow up.” - Picasso

While I was in Taipei, my friend Lisa took me to the National Museum of History of Taiwan. The museum featured a temporary exhibit, brought from Paris, of some of Picasso's work. It was there, in the entrance of the museum, that I read Picasso's quote about the inner artist we lose after childhood. I didn't take the time to fully contemplate the quote, but it touched me enough to jot it down.

After the museum, Lisa and I spent our morning trying local food. Lisa showed me from shop to shop, excitedly pointing out her favorite foods and ordering several dishes for us to try. I just as happily savored every bite, while she casually told me about her family and which dishes they preferred. I learned that her grandfather loves brown rice milk, that her family dips a certain pastry into soy milk before taking a bite, and that her mother prepares some of the same dishes we were trying. Trying new food tastes so much better when accompanied by someone else's recounting of memories, and in turn, those flavors remain rich and are easier to lock into memory.

Afterour mid-morning meal, Lisa and I took a taxi to the Taipei 101 Tower. We were short on time, as Lisa had wanted to spend every minute possible being my tour guide before going to work. On the ride over, the taxi driver repeated to Lisa that I was very beautiful. I was surprised to hear this, and I realized that it had been a very, very long time since a male stranger had complimented me on my appearance. Because frankly, Japanese men don't say much in that regard. I could walk around with an air of confidence that would command a doubletake back home, but only cause a few slight glances in this country. Maybe this is one of the reasons why some Japanese women plaster their naturally lovely faces with so much makeup.... Anyways, enough of that.

After the taxi ride, I had to say a quick goodbye to Lisa. My wonderful host was late to work! I gave her a hug and a big “thank you” –just in time for her to catch the last flicker of the green light in the intersection, and rush over to her workplace. I was alone again, feeling especially tiny under that massive tower. So, what did I do?It was all to easy to solve, my high was waiting right in front of me. I went up Taipei 101.

Theview was spectacular, and the fee entrance included a self-guided audio tour. I had a good time listening to the guide and searching in the landscape for landmarks it mentioned. At the end though, I wished someone had been there with me. I have no problem being alone, but there is something unnatural about solitude when coming from a large family. I don't resent solitude, and sometimes I even welcome her,but she is still a stranger to me. Even though we have become more acquainted with each other this past year, that doesn't change. Will it ever?

I headed down from the tower and walked into the posh mall downstairs. I wanted access to the internet, to look up the address of a vegan restaurant nearby. I noticed there was a Starbucks in the food court, so I turned on my phone's wireless internet and headed for the coffeeshop that symbolizes free internet access, worldwide: Starbucks. Before arriving at Starbucks, though, I saw that my phone had picked up a signal from the Mos Burger place to my left. I decided to buy coffee from the place, in hopes that I would be handed a receipt with a WiFi password of some sort. But, it was a no-go. The cashier told me that there was no internet, and referred me to the information desk. I was perplexed, as my phone marked a signal from that fast food restaurant. I opened the internet browser on my phone, and read that there was internet in that spot, but that I needed a Taiwanese phone number or credit card to access it. I could have headed to Starbucks to search for internet, but I already had a cup of coffe ein hand. Oh, the irony. Instead, I searched for a place to sit and drink my coffee.

Most of the tables were full, but I noticed a mostly empty table next to the McDonalds. There was only a woman and two children sitting on one end, and an empty stroller parked on the opposite end. I gestured at a seat in the middle of the table and asked the woman if I could sit down, just in case. She nodded her head, so I sat down. The two kids looked up at me curiously, while nibbling on their fries. I disregarded it as a reaction to my foreigness. I took my journal out of my bag and started to write. I looked up for a second, and realized that the family had grown in numbers. There were two more children sitting near me – one in the seat next to me – and both watching me intently as they sipped on their drink and ate their burgers. Then, more children starting appearing around me, trickling towards the table. Soon, the owner of the stroller and her small child joined the group. One by one, the seats around me starting filling up, and before I could understand what was going on, there were ten little faces looking at me -- some quickly losing interest, as others tilted their head in amusement as they pondered over my presence. The empty seats had all been filled, and the two women on opposite ends started chatting with each other across the table. It was then that I realized that the two women knew each other, and that these two families were dining together. I had crashed this family's dining hour. We must have looked very odd together, or should I say, I must have looked very odd among them. The women seemed to take no notice of me, but I'm sure they were aware of the hilarity of my presence. Before I got up to leave, the little girl in front of me gave me a very toothy grin. I couldn't help but giggle, and soon, there were five or six little Taiwanese children giggling with me. My little artists, they had probably created a life story for me as they watched me and contemplated why this stranger had sat down amid their family. Finally, they must have wondered why I had fallen into a giggling fit before departing.

You were right, Picasso. Every child is an artist. And the problem is remaining one as we get older. I tried to take the childrens' curiosity and lightheartedness with me as I explored the rest of Taipei. And believe it or not, this is much easier to do when roaming a foreign city, alone.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words, Part 2

Now, I present to you a random collection of photos that describe daily life in Japan. Or moments that made an impression.

Imagine you have no knowledge of the Japanese language... would you know how to work this microwave? If you're like me, then the answer is no, and you too would be very grateful for the little pictures that hint at the buttons' functions. And in debt to your Japanese friend who kindly translated them all for you. As for now, I don't claim to know everything that is written on the microwave, but it has gotten better. Regardless, I will never take an American microwave for granted, ever again.

Clean public transportation! Major win for this country! Thank you, Japan =)

The excitement of finding cookies with the same name as one of your Japanese-American friends =)

Finding clothes with your state's name written on it...

Squatting toilets. 'Nough said.

Wait. I take that back. Instructions on how to use a western toilet. O_o Please, no one confuse it for a squatting toilet...

Fake eyelashes = instant makeover.


A match made in heaven: mochi and green tea.


Scenery on my way to work.


Just another street performace in Osaka. This one got broken up by the police.


I don't trust any hairstylist other than my hairstylist at home. Not a huge problem, but the bangs can get out of hand.


It's actually quite easy to get your five minutes of fame in Japan.


One of my three birthday cakes this year. (I know, I'm a lucky girl! =D) This one was a homemade roll cake from my English club students.

"Th-th-th-that's all folks!" Stay tuned for the pictures of Engrish. Those are too good to not share.

Farewell, Summer Vacation

Summer weather is still here, typhoons and mosquitoes included, but summer vacation is coming to an end. Tomorrow is the opening ceremony at most public schools in Hyogo, and classes will soon recommence.

I will try not to complain too much about the end of summer, it has been a great one! Different in many respects, but one of my most memorable summers. A summer full of firsts: first time spending the entire summer away from home, first time having a full-time job, and first time traveling to another Asian country!

Obviously, I owe you some stories. But not tonight.

Instead, I will leave you with a random collection of mishaps and adventures, perhaps from this summer, but most likely not. Chronology, who needs it all the time? As the Japanese often say (this one is for you Lorrie), please enjoy!

Bits and pieces of Japan, bullet point edition:

• I accidentally made rice using the oatmeal setting on my rice cooker. The outcome: soggy rice. Bleh.
  
• Mixing natto with cheese. Bad, bad idea. Busted my theory that everything goes well with cheese.
  
• Getting a 10% discount on a desk at a second-hand shop. The employee claimed it was a discount for not needing a delivery service. My friends, who have shopped there before, have never heard of such a thing. Either way, I then proceeded to carry the desk to my apartment on the second floor, without help, without an elevator, and after having jaywalked across a large main street. I'm living life on the edge, mates. =p
  
• Also, I got a 40% discount at the movie theater once. The cashier asked to see my gaijin (foreigner) card, and then gave me discounts for my friends as well. It was another mystery discount, as I have never come across it again.
• I accidentally walked into the men's restroom... on several occasions. I'm sorry, Japan, but blue signs don't necessarily scream "male" in my head. And I must have (finally) developed some aversion to the color pink.
  
• My students often ask me if I have a boyfriend. I tell them it's a secret. This pipes up their interest. They insist on getting a concrete answer. So, I name my imaginary boyfriends as I count them with my fingers. The final count: seven. I tell them that I have one for every day of the week. Never a dull day of the week, I say. I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted when they believe me. And now, I am a legend among the third year boys.
• Kelly, "How are you?" Students, "I'mfinethankyouandyou."
  
• Yes, these could all be detailed blog posts. I realize. I need to blog more. Will work on that. Sorryloveyoubuhbye.

Goodbye, summer vacay! The typhoons can stay, they make for cooler weather. But the mosquitoes, please take them with you. Please, I beg...

Falling in Love, Again.

When I first walked into my current gym, it was love at first sight.

And now, I'm still in, as deep as day one. Lately, I have been very good about going regularly, and my body is thanking me. I feel so energized, despite the heat.

Last week, I managed to go to the gym six times. SIX TIMES! I didn't go on Monday, and that's because my gym is closed every Monday. I know, I gave myself a pat on the back already. And I normally don't reward myself with sweets, because it's counterproductive, but I bought myself cake. I mean, six times! I deserved it...

However, my muscles weren't too happy about the extra work, and as I was stretching on Sunday afternoon, I felt that I could really use a massage. And then, I remembered the massage chairs. Oh, how could I have forgotten about you, wonderful chairs?

I entered the room with the massage chairs, fumbled with the manual a bit, and after pressing a few buttons on the remote control, and inserting my arms into the fancy arm rests and positioning my legs on the foot rest, it was instant bliss. For fifteen minutes, the massage chair worked its magic on my forearms, entire back, legs, and feet. Seriously, how could I have forgotten about you, massage chairs??!?!?! Sorry, my loves, for abandoning you, I'll be back soon to visit. I promise. I'm absolutely smitten. haha

Not only am I extremely pleased with the facility, but I'm also very happy with the friends I have made. My gym support group has positively impacted my personal life, I've realized. While my parents and sister were visiting, I didn't go to the gym. They were here for two weeks, and then it took me one week to get back into the swing of things. So, I returned to the gym after a three-week absence. I didn't think people would notice, but they did. And I could tell that they really cared about me, and that they didn't simply want to gossip about my absence (well, not everyone at least haha). Two of the women looked especially worried. They asked if I had been sick, or if I had been overstressed by work. I told them about my parents' visit, and their eyes lit up. They looked so happy to hear that part of my family had visited. Then, when I told them that I was feeling a bit lonely, one lightly squeezed my shoulder and reassured me that I'd be ok. She gestured at the group around me and assured me that they were my family away from home. Everyone nodded in agreement. I was so touched. A week later, that woman approached me and asked me if I was feeling better. I was just as touched by the fact that she had followed up. My gym friends are really wonderful, and I am glad that they look out for me, and push me to try new classes, and comfort me when I fail, such as when I almost fell during a step aerobics class... But I'll save that story for another time.

Aside from the people who make the gym special, the service is incredible. The staff is quick to fix any problem, and they always have a solution for everything. Today, I forgot my workout pants, and to my delight, I discovered that I could rent a pair by using the points on my account. And to earn said points, I simply have to show up. No problem! I have used those points to rent towels in the past.

Now, I know that no love is perfect. But I am willing to overlook certain things. Even willing to overlook the comments that some of the elderly people say. Most fresh on my mind is the comment that an elderly woman said last week. She complimented my new workout shirt and said that it made me look slim, and as a result it made my front assets look bigger. I'm sure you can guess what she was referring to. I didn't need to guess, as she was practically touching me. Being able to understand more and more Japanese has its cons sometimes. Rarely, but it does.

Love is blind, and this time I don't mind. I'm currently spending a lot of my free time at the gym, and it feels good. Today's aerobic and zumba class were especially fun, and I even gathered the courage to chat up the zumba instructor before class. A Gipsy Kings song was playing, and I mentioned to him that I sometimes sing it at karaoke. And then, during class, we moved to Daddy Yankee's “Lo Que Paso, Paso.” I have some great memories of dancing to that song with my sisters and cousins in Rosarito, Mexico. Good fun then, and good fun tonight. And to the usual person who gives “un grito” (basically, “makes some noise”) when the songs and the moves get good, I really, really appreciate you! You're so Latino and you don't even know it. =)

As you can probably guess, I'm currently writing on an endorphin high. I find it's the perfect fix for getting anything done on an unbearably humid summer night.

And now, to download some of the songs I heard tonight. Good night =)

P.S. Happy Birthday, Gittel Paola Aguilar!

Lazy Summer Days

My alarm rings, I reluctantly tear off my eye mask and attempt to wake myself up. If the bright sunlight pouring in through the curtains doesn't do the trick, then I reach for my phone and play some John Legend or Black Eyed Peas, in order to bribe my brain into waking up enough to sing along. During the winter, the smell of hot oatmeal in the rice cooker is enough to get me up. But during the summer, I can't fathom the thought of anything hot, since I feel as if I'm slowly cooking throughout the night. Yet, sleeping with the air conditioning feels too cold; it's not hot enough for that just yet. I don't know why, ask my hypothalamus (I had to google what controls our body temperature haha)... Just a typical summer "rise and shine".

School's out for summer, so there aren't many kids cycling to school. They'll come out to play later, but if they're not wearing their uniforms, I wouldn't be able to recognize most of them anyways. Since there aren't any classes, there is no morning staff meeting, so I don't need to arrive early. I can roll in at a comfortable hour of 8:30AM. The extra ten minutes allow me to see some of the post 8:20AM action in the neighborhood around my school. The other day, I discovered a small group of senior ladies that gather in a small residential street to do radio taiso (calisthenics) together. Everyone and their mom (and their grandma) in Japan know how to do radio taiso. It's a radio broadcast exercise routine first introduced in 1928, later banned at the end of WWII for being too reminiscent of the military, and then modified and reintroduced in 1951. If you tune in to the NHK channel at 6:15AM, you'll be able to follow along and have your try at radio taiso. They teach it at school, and some employers have their employees do it together to build company morale. And these senior ladies in my school's neighborhood start their morning with some radio calisthenics, though if they are anything like my grandparents, they have been awake for hours. I wish I could capture the moment into a jar, in order to call upon it whenever I wanted to: the background music, the old women synchronized in their movements, the charming little street and the rice field nearby. Just a typical summer morning in the neighborhood.

I arrive at school, and about half of the teachers are here. Some are on vacation. A few students trickle in and out, partaking in club activities or extra lessons. It's quiet all day, and I sometimes roam the school looking for clubs to visit and students to talk to. I think the broadcasting club now expects my visit every afternoon. Although I think the teachers are not as busy during the summer, they sure seem just as busy. They are pros at this. I feel bad for interrupting their work if they are genuinely busy, but I try to practice my Japanese with them whenever I can. Just a typical summer day in the office...

Today, an English teacher asked me if I must come to school everyday. I let out a sigh and said, "yes, the Board of Education mandates it." She gave me a knowing look and apologetic smile. Don't worry ma'am, it's not your fault. Sigh. I tell her of my plan to clean and rid the LL room of boxes of old stickers that no longer stick, yellow paged magazines, and other English relics of the past. But that's not until next week. I know I sound like a slacker, but there's only so much lesson planning you can do without an active teaching experience with live feedback. And teaching English conversation is all about feedback. I open my Japanese textbook and attempt to study, but I'm not fooling anyone, my longing gaze aimed outside the window speaks for itself... I think I'll just doze off and dream of my summer plans =)

These are lazy summer days, and not the kind I prefer...

ZunigaS in Japan! (In case you didn't get it, emphasis is on the "s"!)

Airports always make me so emotional. It's a place of farewells and a place of reunions, may they be joyful or melancholic, and I always have to fight back the tears as I make my way through one.

Last night, as I was waiting for my parents, memories of my arrival in Japan flooded my head. I remembered how scared I had been, how reluctantly I had boarded the plane, and how excited I had pretended to be. I can only start to admit now that my heart wasn't into coming here. Resistant to the experience, but reluctant to step down from a challenge. Stubborn, stubborn me. I think the guest speaker at orientation saved me. I don't remember his exact phrasing, but I remember his message clearly, "...and some of you might be holding back tears as you're sitting there, wondering why you're not as excited as everyone else." Yep, that was me alright, and it comforted me to know that I wasn't the only one.

But I made it. And am so happy I came! And I have fallen in love with this place, and my students, and I am so glad I decided to recontract. This complete 180 reminds me of something a sociology professor once said about experience, "the more you resist, the harder you fall." Touche. I cringe to think of how much I would have missed out on if I hadn't taken the risk and made myself come. And now, now I get to share the experience with my parents and sister!!!!!

No matter the happy ending, I still get homesick. I still miss my family. And I still have to swallow emotions of longing for things far away. I realize how good I have gotten at repressing certain emotions, and good riddance, because they are feelings that will never go away, so I just have to learn how to deal with them.

Such feelings threatened to spill over as I waited for my parents. As I thought of every trip I have ever taken, of every trip I will ever take, and of the time I spend away from them. I see a recurring theme in my choice of adventure...

But now, it's a moment where everything pays off. Where I can show them around, share my favorites that I always rave about, and take them to places they never imagined they would be seeing. Growing up, my parents never imagined they would be visiting Japan, and now here they are, visiting their daughter who lives here. Life works in mysterious ways. A little mystery is good, yes.

So now, let the good times begin! Can't wait to see their reactions and hear their thoughts about life in Japan. I have gotten used to most things, so it'll be entertaining to relive the "fresh off the plane" perspective. I'll try my best to write them down and share them on here later.

And for those of you wondering why I'm blogging and not spending time with the family, it's because I had to go to work this morning, even though my work for the school semester is done. I have to use my nenkyuu (days off) strategically among the trips we have planned. Oh Japanese bureaucracy...

Why can't we have unlimited nenkyuu during the summer? :p

Rudy and Jannet, I wish you were here, too.

がんばりましょう！

As they say in Japan, tomorrow we “fight”. Some of my friends and I will be testing our Japanese language skills during a four hour test. Yeah, uh, we are really looking forward to it... sigh. Whereas they will be fighting in the Japanese sense (trying their best), I might literally be fighting the test. I'll explain...

One of my goals when arriving last July was to learn Japanese. I knew it was going to be hard, but a silly little part of me hoped that I would pick it up through osmosis. WRONG. Come on, Kelly... you know better than that! You're a nerd at heart, but you know that you didn't dance your way through school, so why should things change now?

I'm hopelessly optimistic sometimes, that's why. And I loved being able to take a break from studying, and I loved being able to explore other interests that had been pushed aside by the reading lists on my university syllabi. I had tasted freedom, and I loved it.

Yet, halfway through my time here, I realized that I was straying from the goal I had set. And more importantly, I felt (and still feel) that I was missing out on some important cultural aspects by not being able to speak Japanese. Therefore, I started being more diligent about studying, and it started to pay off when I could understand bits and pieces of people's conversations around me. Joy, joy, joy!

Around January, I realized that I was still lacking major motivation. I wasn't being consistent about studying. It didn't take me long to figure out what it was: like many others, I work well with deadlines. No, let me rephrase that... like many other procrastinators, I need deadlines to complete tasks. Nothing gets me working faster than eustress and the fear of failure. So, I decided that I would sign up for the JLPT (Japanese Language Proficiency Test) to motivate me to study. In March, I picked up the application and signed up for level 4. At last, I had found the motivation I needed!

When I first signed up for the test, I realized that I was way behind schedule for passing the test. Yet, the overly optimistic person in me pushed me to study, study and study. At around May, I looked at the material I had to cover, evaluated my free time and my studying habits, and realized that I had a very, very slim chance of passing. However, I kept on going... Why? Well, my main reason for signing up for the test (and paying the large test fee) was to motivate me to study. So if I stopped studying, because all odds were against me, then I would have defeated the purpose of signing up for the test in the first place...

At the beginning of June, the hopeless optimist in me still wanted to cram months of studying into one month. So I worked diligently for about two weeks, and halfway through the month, the realist in me took over. She kicked aside that little optimist. She realized that I had a semester of English lessons to conclude at schools, an itinerary to plan for my family's upcoming trip to Japan, and friends to start saying goodbye to (don't leaaaavvvveee!).

So for the last two weeks, I have been doing all of the above, but also taking care to review some of the things I've learned. After all, I don't want to spoil my progress thus far. And in the end, my goal for learning Japanese isn't about passing any darn test, it's about being able to communicate with people. And those deadlines will come up at the end of every conversation with a Japanese person; I guarantee it!

So I'm sorry to disappoint you, my little hopeless optimist, but just know that you do push me to work harder, and strive for things out my reach. You always have, and you always will. And in doing that, I achieve more than if I didn't believe at all.

As for tomorrow, I am stressing out a little. I hate going into tests unprepared, and I can't remember the last time I went into a test knowing that I wasn't going to pass. It's an alien, novel feeling and I don't like it. I'll have to remind myself of this feeling when my motivation tries to flee me in the future...

So there you have it, a general picture of my little love-hate relationship with studying Japanese.

Good luck to all my amazing friends that have powered through and WILL pass tomorrow. Of course, Kelly the hopeless optimist believes in you, but Kelly the realist knows you will pass, too.　がんばりましょうね！And I apologize beforehand if I do start fighting my exam materials halfway through the exam...

お休みなさい.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words, Part 1

A picture is worth a thousand words. So instead of the usual lengthy post, I leave you with eleven pictures and a bit of commentary (I wouldn't want to deprive you of my thoughts entirely :p).

Let's get started with pictures of some students' New Year's Resolutions for 2011:

Beautiful.

Yep, that last one sounds like a resolution I'd be willing to stick to =D

As my friend Gerard commented on this picture, "Mickey, you're so damn hard to like! But someone's gotta like that squeaky-voiced s,o,b, And when the going gets tough, the tough keep liking!!!" hahahaha
AND I have no problem with the last resolution =) In fact, this student joined the English club shortly after. PROUD!

I'm curious as to whether the other kiddies are sticking to their resolutions...:p

Through the telephone lesson, I learned which excuses my students use to blow people off...

I must say, I can sympathize with this kid for making cake a priority...

I'm guessing this kid meant that his teeth fell out. Or maybe he did mean that his teeth came out... wisdom teeth? I'm tempted to use this one for turning down a date... haha. There's no way that you can go to lunch or dinner if you're missing your teeth...

BRILLIANT. No one wants to force a mentally unstable person to hang out with them... Let's just hope they don't ask about visiting hours.

Why didn't I ever think of those? :p

I find lots of art on worksheets...

Christmas art and Halloween art together....hmmm. Don't know how I feel about that one.

I love it when they draw my favorite characters ! =)

Some of these kids are really creative!

Now I know who the artists are in the classroom.

And of course, the declarations of love...

I like to reply to their little messages sometimes.


And then when you can't say "I love you" back, the least you can do is say "thank you"...

I appreciate the declarations. Errr, even if they are grammatically incorrect.

Oh the things that make me smile and keep me amused while correcting papers! =D
Stay tuned for a different compilation of pictures in Part II.

Untitled

What a beautiful night.

It's the kind of night that you want to share with someone close: a friend, a loved one, a lover. But tonight it's just me, just me and my thoughts. So I go for a walk.

The breeze is cool, the moon is glazed over by a thin cloud. What a lovely scene amidst an otherwise ordinary town. Where are those flowers whose scent I smell? So sweet. A night that smells so sweet. So sweet that it whispers words of home and exotic places and envelops me in memories of smiles and even tears, and resurfaces feelings nestled so deep within they can't be expressed, only felt, though I do try...

Yes, that kind of night. The kind of night that I would rather share with someone else, but it's just me tonight. So I continue walking...

I find a park and I wander towards the swings. I get the sudden urge to swing... I sit on the nearest one and pump my legs. I keep pumping until I get higher, higher and higher and can go no more... So this is what loneliness feels like. I'm on top of the world and no one to share it with.

But I remind myself, this loneliness, it's only skin deep.

I look at the time and realize it's getting late. I should be getting home.

The walk back is just as pleasant. Just as cool. Feelings just as crisp. And though I have no one to walk with, and though the trees, the wind, and the moon and the sidewalk hum a song of loneliness, I'm content. For this loneliness, it's only skin deep.

Strolling Down Memory Lane

Last Thursday, I was cycling home on a path by the river. My rear tire was giving me problems, so I had to pull over periodically to pump air into the tire.

At one point, I was slowed down by two older men on bikes. They were riding side by side, and one of them was on the lane meant for incoming bikes, so I couldn't pass them. Instead of ringing my bell and making one of them move, I observed the men for a while. They were probably in their seventies, taking a leisure ride while chatting and having a good laugh about something. It was so nice to hear them laugh freely in public. Most people here are very careful not to bother those around them, and this includes refraining from having a good laugh in public, so as to not be noisy. Understandable?

Something about the man on the left reminded me of my grandfather from my father's side of the family. I'm not sure if it was the khaki colored pants, or the white t-shirt that he wore, but he reminded of my grandfather. Even though my grandfather became thin during the last years of his fight against diabetes, the man's healthy weight resurfaced older memories of my grandfather, memories from before the diabetes took a toll on him. Above all, I think the man's spirit reflected my grandfather's personality. The man seemed to be gently teasing his companion, and they were having a good laugh because of it. My grandfather was known for teasing. Every time my siblings and I would be laughing or relaxing, my grandfather would ask us, “Are you mad? Why are you mad?” Of course, since we were too young to understand that he was joking with us, we would become angry that he was “mistaking” our good mood for a bad one. How I wish that I could have gotten to know my grandfather as an adult. If he were here now and asked me those same questions, I'm sure that I could have replied with a witty remark and we'd be having a good laugh. Having a good laugh like those two men riding in front of me.

Sometimes it's nice to remember.

The men noticed me riding closely behind, so the man on the right moved over to let me pass. I sped up and passed them. At this point, I could feel the metal frame start to grind against the rubber and the cement, so I looked for a clear patch of dirt or grass to stop on and pump air into my tire.

I had pulled over onto a clearing, and was in the middle of pumping, when the two men passed in front of me. I looked up, and right then, my grandfather's twin spirit rode by and beckoned for me to come along as he said something to me in Japanese. His gestures and playful smile let me know that he was teasing me about not being able to pass them this time.

All of a sudden, I was ten years old again and my grandfather was teasing me about something.

You don't always need to understand a language for it to move you. And you could have said goodbye to someone more than ten years ago, but still remember them with the same intensity of affection. Miss you, Grandpa.

Another Clown in the Circus

It seems that I learn things the hard way sometimes. Yesterday, the sunny morning turned into a rainy afternoon, and when four o'clock hit and it was time for me to go home, it started raining. And when it rains, it pours. I was soaking wet when I got home. My clothes were wet, down to every last fiber, and my hair looked fresh out of the shower. But instead of smelling like coconut scented body scrub and Dove shampoo, I smelled like a tired and wet bunny.

Today, I should have checked the weather forecast first thing in the morning. Instead, I simply looked out the window, saw sunshine, and didn't bother to think that it might start raining later in the day.

History repeats itself. Four o'clock came, and so did the rain. Luckily, it wasn't raining as hard as yesterday. However, all of the smokers on wheels and slow cyclists decided to come out to play, and make my trek home a slow and painful one. It's no fun arguing with yourself over which is better: being stuck behind the smoking man, or the woman that smells too strongly of perfume. However, my biggest annoyance was the girl on the small bicycle. No, not a girl, but the girl on the small bicycle. I used to see her regularly, but hadn't seen her in a while, and today she apparently decided to make a special appearance.

I can't decide if it's her bike or her inability to cycle in a straight line that bothers me the most. First of all, her bicycle looks something like this:



Many people here own bikes like those, and I don't understand how they can ride them comfortably. I know that some of them conveniently fold, but beyond that... Someone, please enlighten me. Personally, I'm reminded of the Simpson's episode when Homer goes to clown school and must master riding an impossibly small bicycle through a loop. Well, instead of passing through loops, this girl oscillates along narrow sidewalks, and makes it impossible for people to pass her. It makes for an annoying situation on a regular day, and it makes for a frustrating situation when all I want to do is zoom by and get to the shelter of my apartment.

Looking at her cycle reminds me of being entertained by a clown. It makes me laugh, but at the same time, it makes me uncomfortable. I chuckle when I spot her, and it kinda makes my day, but at the same time, I want her to go away. [Tough crowd, I know.] Today, it took four intersections for us to part ways.

When I finally got home, I looked at myself in the mirror. My scarf was wrapped around my head, but it didn't prevent my hair from getting wet. The front side of my pants was wet, while the backside was completely dry. My eyeliner was a faint smudge underneath my eyes, and my eyebrows were wet, flat against my face.

I'm just another clown in the circus.

9.0

As I sit here listening to Adele’s “Hometown Glory”, I can’t help but feel such pride for the dynamic, and even dull cities in the Los Angeles area that I call home. I can’t phrase this sentiment any better than with Adele’s lyrics about visiting home, “Round my hometown, memories are fresh. Round my hometown, ooh, the people I've met are the wonders of my world...” Yes, the wonders of my world. “The wonders of this world.” No matter where you go, no matter who you meet, you will carry some people forever. And they will captivate, amaze and enamor you more than anything else you'll ever come to know. So, when I look at the images of the destroyed coastal villages in the aftermath of the terrible Tohoku earthquake, I can’t help but think that someone’s hometown glory has been tarnished. What’s worse, many people, many “wonders of [someone’s] world” have been lost to the fury of the sea. What a terrible and deep loss.

For us here in the Kansai region of Japan, it’s almost unbelievable that a little more than 500 kilometers away, villages have been destroyed down to wooden planks, ashes, and belongings, all scattered away from their owners and proper places. Yet, whether it's hard to believe or not, it is a reality in numerous prefectures in Northern Japan.

When the earthquake hit, I was sitting at my desk in the school staffroom. I didn’t feel the earthquake. If I remember correctly, my area felt the earthquake at a magnitude of 3 on the Richter Scale. But as I said, I didn't feel anything. The only indication that something was wrong was from the messages I received from people back home. They were coming in quickly, as people wanted reassurance that I was fine and out of harm's way. I didn’t realize the extent of the disaster, until I saw the devastating images later that evening. The same images that had shocked viewers around the globe, and had prompted my family and friends to write to me. I received so many messages from family, friends and acquaintances inquiring about my well-being. It was heartwarming to see how many people cared, and took the time to write a message.

I won't deny it though, the constant messaging made me worry, because some messages I received were alarming, and asked me to come home, while others made me feel that the problem was more grave than the actual situation (regarding the nuclear plant in Fukushima). Because of all of the fear swimming around me, I was a mild case of nerves in the week following the earthquake, and it was hard to fall asleep at night. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone at home, because I felt that only the people here could understand my emotions. Sure enough, many ALTs were able to relate, and I found comfort in talking to them. I also did some research on radiation and the current state of the nuclear plant. It is true that the nuclear plant in Fukushima presents a danger, but I have faith in the men currently risking their lives to repair the damage. I can’t predict what will happen, but I have taken precautions to be as prepared as possible. Prepare for the worse, hope for the best.

Other foreigners have not approached the situation in such a cool-headed manner. So many people have left the country in an anxious flurry to escape the radiation. I don’t blame those around the nuclear plant for panicking, not at all. I probably would have done the same. However, I know of some people near me that have been forced by sponsors or parents to go home. I think this fear stems from sensationalist headlines abroad. There has been a scramble to acquire iodine pills, in order to combat radiation. People as far as the United States and Canada are panicking about the radiation. It is a small world, after all, but there is no reason for panicking. None. And yet, according to an article in The Economist, a packet of iodine pills that usually costs $10 was priced at more than $500 dollars online. Ugly panic. On the other end of that equation, it’s sickening to think that some people take advantage of people’s fears in order to make quick cash. Furthermore, it creates a low supply for those that are near the plant and might need to take them in the future. Here, in my area, I’ve noticed empty shelves in the water aisles in supermarkets. People are storing bottled water in their homes. Now that, I don’t blame the people of Japan for doing. This is directly affecting their nation.

Risk. I mentioned that the workers in Fukushima are risking overexposure to radiation. Risk is associated with solutions and discoveries. So, some people fear that I risk my health by staying here. I beg to differ, but there is some truth in their words. Anytime you leave home, you tamper a bit with uncertainty. Some people never go abroad, because of the fear of the unknown. Yet, I think that the pros of traveling and living abroad outweigh the possibility of disaster (which can happen in our own hometowns anyway.) Yesterday, I read a well-written article from The New York Times about why we travel. I find that the opening paragraph gives a good enough argument in itself, without disposing of reality. It is as follows:

“In the bungling and bellicosity that constitute the back and forth of history, worsened by natural disasters and unprovoked cruelty,  humble citizens pay the highest price. To be a traveler in such circumstances can be inconvenient at best, fatal at worst. But if the traveler manages to breeze past such unpleasantness on tiny feet, he or she is able to return home to report: 'I was there. I saw it all.' The traveler’s boast, sometimes couched as a complaint, is that of having been an eyewitness, and invariably this experience — shocking though it may seem at the time — is an enrichment, even a blessing, one of the life-altering trophies of the road.”

Indeed, in this recent disaster, ordinary people have paid the highest price. And true to this article, for some travelers, the tsunami was a fatal occurrence. An American woman, a fellow JET, passed away in the aftermath of the earthquake. I wish she could have left Japan enriched, and blessed with a new experience after being adventurous enough to leave home. Instead, we are left with a heavy heart as we long for an alternate ending. I know I speak on behalf of ALTs here, that our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends.

In times like this, it’s necessary to look at stories of survival, and to capture and radiate the smallest rays of hope. There’s no use in letting sorrow make us numb and weak. There are ways to channel that energy in order to help, with the end of restoring hope in the people who have been affected firsthand. First, we can donate money and materials, in order to ease the suffering of those in northeast Japan. Secondly, we must not forget about the disaster. I worry that months from now the victims will be forgotten and the ongoing needs will be regarded as a thing of the past. Let’s not allow that to happen.

There's no place in the world where we can be one-hundred percent safe from risk and danger. You take chances, in order to be rewarded with experiences and knowledge. In the end, if you don’t overcome your fears, they will overcome you. I don’t know about you, but that’s NOT a risk I’m willing to take.


Here are some of the articles I referenced, and a couple of others that I found interesting:

The Economist: Herd Behaviour

The New York Times: Why We Travel

The Washington Post: In Ishinomaki, Japan, stories of survival and loss

BBC News: Q&A: Health effects of radiation exposure

Links and ways to help Japan (if you have more, please add them as a comment! Thanks!):

American Red Cross

Japanese Red Cross

The Crunch Heard Around the Staffroom

I usually bring an apple and an orange to school. The other teachers rarely eat fruit with their lunch. Fruit is expensive, and I've been told that fruit is one type of gift that you can bring to others' homes. However, I decide to "splurge" on myself, and enjoy my fruit in the staffroom.

Without fail, someone looks up from their work when I start munching and "crunching" away at my apple. Usually, someone will look at me and say "apple" in Japanese, and giggle. At first, I didn't understand their reaction. Then, one day, a teacher offered me an apple, and it was cut up to resemble a rabbit. I've heard that this is usual. In fact, the least they do to an apple is cut it. They never simply bite into it. At home, they peel their apple, and all other fruit for that matter. I have never witnessed it, but I have heard that they even peel their grapes. (I believe it.) So when I take out my apple, and give it my most heartfelt bite, I am a scene walking out of an American sitcom, and it makes them laugh.

The first-year teachers around me are all used to my apple-eating ways by now. Sometimes, other teachers will see me, and reaction or not, I can guess what they're thinking. Once in a while, I wash my apple in the kitchen sink, and start eating it as I head to my desk. I "crunch" as I walk by the third-year teachers. A few heads look up as I "crunch" my way past the second-year teachers. I slow down a bit to smile at the vice-principal, then I take a another bite of my apple, and continue past the printers. Finally, my "trail of crunch" ends at my desk, where I perform the grand finale. That is, I eat the entire apple, including the seeds. Even for Americans, this is weird, and I can imagine how it makes my Japanese coworkers inwardly cringe. For that last part, I apologize, kinda.

I must admit, that for the most part, I like to see my coworkers react to my foreignness. Yeah, it'd be great to eat a cute-looking apple, but as long as I keep on getting reactions from people, I plan on biting into my apple with the most deafening crunch possible. CRUNCH!

The Return of Candy-sensei

Every morning, students trickle into the staffroom after the second bell has rung. They come into the staffroom, because they need to get a late slip. The teachers are never happy about this, so sometimes when I'm the only one in the staffroom, the kids look excited that I'll be the one to sign their late slip, because I'll surely spare them the lecture. Well, I sympathize with the students, because I was often late in high school, but there's nothing that I can do, but turn them over to the next teacher that returns to the staffroom. I don't think I have the permission to sign their slips.

This morning in particular, the teachers were especially annoyed at the tardy students. All students were taking a test during first period, so you can imagine the frustration of teachers when students walked in late, because it would interrupt the testing in the classroom. Most of the tardy students were late by minutes, so when a student walked in three hours late, you could practically hear all of the first year teachers mumble to themselves in disbelief. The student was no other than the leader of the talker pack from my former seventh period class on Tuesday.

As soon as the student spotted me, a light bulb turned on in his head. He caught me looking at him, and so he "informed" me, "my name is Nagano." I answered with an "I know." He looked delighted at this and asked me, as he reached into the drawer for a tardy slip, "what is your name?" Although he had asked me a question, he proceeded to fill out the tardy slip. Therefore, I thought our little conversation was over, but I heard him ask again, "what is your name?" I looked up. I knew where this was going. I gave him my best shot at sounding exasperated, and said, "you know my name!" He had this knowing smile on his face, and I had a good guess as to what I was about to hear. Sure enough, he said, "your name is Candy!" A bit anti-climatic, but it still made me laugh. I shook my head and humored him, "no no no... my name is Kelly!" He laughed at his own joke. At this point, he had finished filling out the slip, so he approached me with it and asked, "Candy, please sign." I shook my head again and said, "Sorry, I can't," and I motioned to the teacher sitting two desks over. He took the slip over to him. As the teacher checked that the form had been properly filled out, an English teacher walked into the staffroom. He pointed at me, and told her in Japanese, "she isn't Candy!" The teacher frowned and starting scolding him, probably because he had been three hours late. I hope it wasn't because he had called me "Candy." It became evident that the student was further stalling from having to go to class, so the teacher started to show him out. When he wouldn't move, she started to gently move him along. His last words as he was pushed out of the staffroom were, "Candy, help me!" Sorry kid, you're on your own.

The school term is over, but "Candy" lives on.

11,500 Miles

Living in Japan does wonders for my Mileage Plus total.

Osaka to San Francisco: 5413 miles
San Francisco to Los Angeles: 337 miles
Total: 5,750 miles.

Now, reverse and repeat itinerary, and you have an 11,500 mile trip. 11,500 miles traveled in 10 days, which equals to 22 hours of sitting on a plane. That's an awfully long travel time, especially since my stay in California was shorter than a week and a half. BUT it was totally worth it! Even worth the moments when I had to tell my nervous brain to shut up, because I'm terrified of turbulence. However, flying often makes the travel jitters go away, because you get used to it. And a long trip is always worth it when you have familiar faces that you haven't seen in over six months waiting for you at home. And when you leave those lovely faces 5,750 miles away, it's nice to have friends to notify of your return, and teachers and students that are genuinely happy to see you at school the next day.

The hardest part of coming back to Japan is that I didn't have enough time to do everything and see everyone. I did try though... and as a result, every minute of my day was booked, and I think I gained ten pounds from indulging in the rich flavors of Mom's cooking, Grandma's desserts, and California cuisine. Still, I wish I could have seen more of my family and friends. [Thank goodness for Skype, email and snail mail.] However short it was, every minute was great, and I have my AMAZING family and friends to thank for that =) It's an irreplaceable feeling to be with people that have known you for a long time, or who you feel like you've known forever. "Home is whenever I'm with you..." Can't wait for my next trip home! XXX

This time around, landing in Japan felt SO MUCH better. When I arrived back in July, I felt so overwhelmed by the foreignness of the experience and this country. I'm not going to lie, I had my doubts about whether I would last the entire year. But here I am now, loving this country and learning from the experience. I have even recontracted for a second year. Check me out Mom and Pops, I think your "little girl" is growing up. =D So this time around, I felt more confident upon exiting the plane, and let me tell you, it feels good to wait in a short "Japan re-entry" Customs line. Even the Japanese citizens had a longer line to wait in. And although I am NOWHERE near fluent, the fact that I can understand a few words of Japanese feels great. I still wonder how certain things would have turned out if I had stayed in California, but everything happens for a reason, and now I have an opportunity to meet more people and learn Japanese. Speaking of which, I should probably get back to studying...

I'll try to visit again in July, but considering the few days of vacation that I have, I might not be home until the holidays in December/January. (And to be honest, at this moment I cannot fathom the idea of getting on a plane anytime soon haha). In the meantime, please come visit!!!!! =D You'll rack up some frequent flyer miles, and this tour guide will make the long trip worth it. 11,500 miles worth it. That's a promise! =)

Nostalgia For A Feeling I've Never Known

Amagasaki today: sunny, golden morning and snowy, white afternoon. Never would this happen in Los Angeles. It's snowing outside and I can't help but watch it in awe. It falls so softly as it floats towards the ground. So gentle, but menacing with dangerous potential... like a gentle breeze just before it turns into strong wind. Luckily, it won't snow past tonight here. It's fickle snow and I don't mind that. Snow... what a small pleasure you are to watch. You're a perfect example of the novelties that make traveling exciting and separation from home bearable.

Beyond it's sheer beauty, I like watching snow fall, because it reminds me of something I've never known. Lots of sunshine, lazy fog, occasional wind and rain: my life for twenty years. Thus, living in this experience, in this precise moment, makes me wonder what life would have been like if I had grown up in a winter wonderland. What's it really like to experience snow? I'll never be able to tell you. Instead, I have my memories of tanning and sunburn...year round. And just to think that other people have never experienced sunshine the way I have, makes me feel nostalgic for memories that by chance became mine. And the fact that they are mine, and not someone else's, makes me feel a hint of loss for memories of snow that I'll never have, because if I had been born elsewhere, they could have been mine.

I can watch the snow fall, and if I choose, I can go outside to enhance the experience with all of my senses. I can successfully mimic what others experience regularly. It can feel so real in the moment, but it's a rare and fleeting occasion. I can only imagine what a complete experience of growing up with snow feels like. It's like applying theory to practice. Or comparable to the word that sits on the tip of your tongue, but you can't articulate. You can taste it, but you can't feel the texture. All together, it feels like the defining moment when you know enough to realize that there's so much you don't know. And yet, you're comforted by the immensity of the void, because you realize that not knowing everything means infinite opportunity to learn. Exciting! Snow!

I may not know the entire feeling of snow, but I can stand next to those who see it every winter, and we can both observe how it covers the trees, plants and buildings in a layer of white. I'll timidly admire it from behind the window, and maybe they'll choose to twirl underneath it, but we'll both gasp at its beauty. And I'll wonder what it feels like to see snow every winter. But when the seasons change, maybe they'll wonder what it's like to have sunshine all year long. And I can tell them all about it, but they'll never be able to feel the exact nostalgia they detect in my voice.

I'm feeling nostalgic on this snowy day, nostalgia for a feeling I've never known.

All Eyes On Me

It looks like all of the shy people at the gym are finally coming out of their shell. I've noticed one thing about most people at the gym; even though they want to approach me, they won't. They usually smile, or occasionally wave, or surprise me with an English greeting, but they won't talk to me beyond that. When they finally do start a conversation with me, I realize that they've been observing me for a while. After weeks of always seeing one woman in the locker room, she finally spoke to me. She commented on the fact that I was there earlier than usual. It surprised me that she more or less knew my schedule, because although I noticed her, I wouldn't have been able to tell you when it was that I saw her. Apparently, she's not the only one that's been watching. Last Friday, one woman started to chat with me after an aerobics class. I was in the stretching room on one of the mats, and she sat down near me. I had met her before, and had discovered that she spoke English. So, we were chatting about the class. Our conversation, or the fact that we were having a conversation, became a magnet for curious bystanders. Next thing I knew, there was a group of five Japanese people “stretching” around me, as they worked their way into the conversation and proceeded to ask me all kinds of questions. After what felt like an informal Q&A session, they invited me try the exercise classes they attend. I guess I passed their screening. :p Most interestingly, I discovered that some of them had been observing me for weeks, evident by their comments regarding my performance in Zumba class. A former JET at the pre-departure orientation in Los Angeles had said that someone is always watching you when you're a foreigner in Japan. I couldn't agree more.

I'm becoming “less intimidating” to approach, because I've been trying more classes. People find it easier to talk to me, because we can talk about the class. If I hadn't gone to the Friday aerobics class a second time, I wouldn't have found myself on that mat, talking to my English speaking gym buddy. Funny thing is, I almost didn't attend the first class. The Friday that I tried the first class, I almost didn't make it to the gym. The whole fifteen-minute ride home from school, I was debating whether I should go or not. It was the classic struggle of “I'm tired, but if I go I'll feel energized after my workout, but I'm tired, but...” And that's how my thoughts circled in my head. I took the long way home to buy more time. I arrived at the intersection where turning left would mean going home, and going straight would mean heading to the gym. I realized that I would probably sit in front of my computer and eat chocolate if I went home, so I went straight. There's no turning back when you follow the yellow brick road.

On days when I barely find the drive to get to the gym, it's hard to find the self-motivation to challenge myself on the treadmill. When I don't have the motivation to push myself, I like to join a group exercise class. Nothing pushes me more than trying not to look like an idiot in a room full of fit people. So that Friday, I noticed that an aerobics class was starting. I didn't know what level it was, but I decided to try it. Why? Honestly, because the instructor had an amazingly toned body. Fit people make me want to be more fit. Ten minutes into the class, I could see why she had those lean muscles. The class was tough! There were several moments where I couldn't keep up with the strengthening exercises. When the class was over, I was covered in sweat. Now, I don't do aerobics for a living, and I could never look like the instructor anyways (thanks a lot genetics!), but you bet I'll be in the class every Friday. I'll just have to deal with the sore muscles... I've been sore ever since the first class haha. After the aerobics class, there's a yoga class in the same room. Both times, I've considered joining, but one gym challenge a day is enough. I don't want to spread myself too thin. [Param push!]

Now that I've survived two Fridays of aerobics, I'm going to try some of the classes my new gym buddies suggested. I love having this new support group. Not to mention, it's a nice occasion (to try) to speak Japanese.

Hopefully, I'll stick to the classes and not be discouraged by the cold weather. The truth is, I've started to embrace cabin fever, and sitting in my warm apartment with chocolate in hand doesn't sound so bad... :p

Stay tuned!

CANDY!

Oh, Tuesday's seventh period...you drive me crazy!

Tuesdays are by far my busiest days at school. I teach five classes, and during my free periods, I have to finish my lesson plan for the following week and get it approved by the three JTEs (Japanese teachers of English). Sometimes, I have a stack of papers that needs to be graded. Usually, I have one or two students that want to chat with me after school. Always, I have to make copies of the printouts I just finished preparing. 忙しいですね。

Despite the fact that I'm busy, I see some of my favorite classes and there's never a dull moment during the day. In fact, the day is often too eventful. Or should I say, it's end with a commotion thanks to my seventh period.

My seventh period has about six talkers in the class: the “talker pack.” What I mean by this is that they always want to be heard. They are the ones that participate the most, because they want to talk, but this doesn't mean that they're quiet when they're supposed to. They're the kings and queens of multitasking, so they can get away with talking and understanding the class material. It drives me nuts, because it distracts the students that can't multitask and are unable to focus. As a result, it's hard to move the class along.

Luckily, the “strict” teacher is in charge of this class with me, along with another teacher. I put the word strict in quotations, because she's as strict as many American teachers, but in Japan she's considered a very strict teacher. Since she doesn't tolerate any rude behavior, the students behave well for the most part, and if they don't, she stops the class and scolds them for about five minutes. This has happened a couple of times.

At this school, I work with two teachers in every class. This is because they have combined two classes into one, so that I can see all of the students at least once a week. I always wondered what would happen if the “strict” teacher was absent. Would the other teacher and I be able to control the class? Well, I got to find out last week, and the outcome was not pretty. The students kept on interrupting the other teacher and me, and kept on talking over their classmates during presentations. While explaining activities, I would refuse to talk if they weren't completely silent. I'm normally more lenient, but if I show any leniency with this class, they walk all over me. It worked, but it took up a lot of time and we didn't get through all of the material. I kept the class after the bell, and had the other teacher translate how disappointed I was in them, and warn them that I would give them more busy work if they didn't appreciate the activities. The lesson plans aren't the most interesting things in the world, but I do give them some time to do pair work, and I know that they take this time to talk with their friends. I don't mind, as long as the work gets done. So during my talk, I could tell that they didn't want to sit there any longer, but they did hear me through.

Today, I was very grateful to have the “strict” teacher in class. The class was running smoothly, until the “strict” teacher stepped out to take care of something in the hallway. The students were in the middle of answering some questions, and when they saw her leave, they jumped at the opportunity to be loud again. There is one student that is especially loud and rude: the leader of the “talker pack.” Last week, he had a verbal showdown with the other teacher. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but judging by the atmosphere of the classroom, he was being very rude. His behavior is what prompted me to give them my speech about proper behavior. So this week, I was observing his behavior in particular. He seemed to be in a better mood, and he wasn't interrupting as much. When the “strict” teacher stepped out, I expected him to take advantage of the situation and lead the bandwagon of talkers.

The “talker pack” did start to speak out of turn during the next activity. They wanted me to call on them to answer the questions. The noise level was starting to rise, and when I looked down at my paper to verify an answer, I heard one student call out, “candy!' I looked up to see who it was, and it was the leader of the “talker pack,” and he was looking straight at me. I must have looked really confused, because the whole class started looking confused, and then the student himself looked confused. The class got quiet, and the student spoke again. “Candy,” he repeated, “Candy-sensei!” Then the entire class, the other teacher, and I started laughing. The student thought my name was Candy. I corrected him, and someone told him what the word candy meant. He started laughing at his own mistake, and went off in Japanese about my name. The class reacted and quickly started getting noisy again, and I didn't want the atmosphere to turn sour again after it had just been so funny, so I was getting ready to quiet them down. I didn't have to say anything, because the leader of the “talker pack” did the talking for me. He yelled, pointed at me, and said to the class, “listen to Candy-sensei!” Some students chuckled, but soon the whole class was quiet and alert. Not even the “talker pack” made a commotion. I guess they didn't want to disappoint their leader. Class politics, you know how that goes. We continued the activity we were working on, and the “strict” teacher walked into a quiet and well-functioning class. Halleluiah!

And that my friends, is how a class of students that always gets you mad because they won't cooperate, makes it out of your 'black list” and onto your “like” list. This class owes it to the student that had been thinking for the last five months that my name is Candy.

Vive le mardi!