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Super Duper Mega Spring Break Update March 30, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Apologies, Culinary Pursuits, Cultural Exchange, Japanese GET, Julie Gets Philosophical, Me Time, Student Moments, Time to Party.
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And so I’m back from my adventures. I would apologize for the slight tardiness of this post, but with my recent habits I’m starting to sound like a broken record. How about this? Every time I write a post … even if it’s on time … let’s just assume that I’m sorry that it’s late. Consider this a veritable blank check of apologies and prostrations for my tendency to choose baking bread over blogging.

Whew. Now that that’s out of the way~

I can’t believe that my painstaking planned dream vacation in Osaka is Over. I won’t lie to you – I had a very intense and very real emotional reaction when the shuttle bus pulled away from the hotel to take me to a nearby subway station last Sunday morning. I don’t know what it is about hotels but I just love them. LOVE them. It isn’t even the “being waited on hand and foot” element because my favorite part is breaking that “customer/employee” wall and getting the staff members to tell me about themselves. I think it’s just that hotels are just groovy. I love everything from the smell to the little “ding!”s of the elevators to room service.

Room service.

Don’t even get me started on how much I love the concept and perfect execution of room service. The fantastic and tangible wonder that I used to experience on Christmas morning? Yes, that’s now been transferred to anytime a hotel employee rolls in a silver covered tray of food into my room.

So, in an attempt to wrench myself away from this theme of hotelphilia before I inspire myself to compose a sonnet on behalf of the Hyatt Regency Osaka, let me direct us towards the content of my trip. Or, rather, to my three favorite memories from the trip. After that, I’ll have some words about this “end of the school year” time that we’re currently swimming through. In addition, expect poignant closing remarks about how I am 366 days from leaving Japan for good (and-I-really-REALLY-mean-it-this-time).

Osaka Memory BEST THREE!!! (As the Japanese would title this.)

Number 3: Eating a full-course French dinner on the top floor of the Osaka Regency Hyatt Hotel

Is it even possible for me to make that memory title sound even more highfalutin? In all seriousness, though, I think that Friday’s dinner might make it in my Top 5 Best Dinners of All Time. (Which sounds to me like a worthy post in of itself. We’ll just save that idea for a rainy-nothing-is-happening-at-all-and-you’re-tired-of-me-talking-about-The-Child day.)

After I arrived at the Hyatt, I spent some time in the gym before deciding to visit one of the hotel’s many famous restaurants. I was torn between French and Italian, but opted for French because I don’t have a great deal of experience with that type of food and I was in the mood to spoil myself. The French restaurant in this Hyatt is also (as I mentioned before) on top of the hotel. It was actually the vast influence of Jyona33 that made me favor the restaurant on that particular point.

Jyona33 is extremely fond of the New York Bar at the Tokyo Park Hyatt Hotel. Not only is it the setting for numerous scenes in the movie Lost in Translation, but it also is one of his favorite places in the entire world. Situated on top of the hotel, you can see the most amazing view of the Tokyo skyline. I do actually think that he counts it as a point of personal attack against him and our friendship that I have yet to visit this bar.

Anyway, because I’m the Osaka Girl to his Tokyo Boy, it only made sense for me to spend my first night in the Osaka Hyatt in its version of the New York Bar, which also offered a spectacular view of the city (even more breathtaking in the setting sun). I was the first person in the restaurant for dinner, and so I had the staff to myself for the first twenty minutes or so. This was great fun for me, because it didn’t take them long to figure out that I speak Japanese. That, my general youth, and my “I’m just happy to be here” attitude made us all BFF for the evening.

It was particularly entertaining for me, because I would tell one waiter something about myself and then another waiter would stop by my table a little while later and pick up the conversation from that point. I suppose from this I can deduce that they were discussing me in the kitchens, which normally would make me cry “Celebrity!” and fill me with dread. This time, though, I found it amusing and it seemed to cement our kinship. They kept me well supplied with bread, champagne, and tea. I told them what it was like to teach in the Japanese countryside. There were also occasions where they practiced their English with me, and for once I didn’t feel exploited.

Six courses, some champagne, some tea, and two hours after I arrived, I veritably floated down to my bedroom. In my four years here, I have had a variety of meals in a variety of venues with a variety of people. I thoroughly enjoy eating freshly caught fish with my students or grilled cow organs with my slightly wicked and shocking coworkers. But I have no problem enjoying the more international, expensive, and elegant side of Japan. None whatsoever.


Number 2: Reconnecting with an old friend and recalling that I am not as misanthropic as I often perceive myself to be.

When I first moved to Japan, I endeavored to join a soccer team that worked out of Matsusaka. In doing so I met a former JET, we’ll call her Zelda. In addition to the affinity for video games (hence the name), we’re also linked through my best friend from college. It turns out that they went to high school together and knew each other well. It is indeed a small world after all. At any rate, my association with the soccer team faded, but my friendship with Zelda remains to this day.

Zelda is currently living in Osaka and so we decided to meet for lunch on Sunday. We found each other with relative ease and proceeded to a spectacular Vietnamese restaurant. A bowl of pho, some spring rolls, and two hours later, she and her boyfriend bade me Bon Voyage at the Kintetsu train station.

Because of my work schedule and the social commitments that I regularly make with my Dance Group, my coworkers, or my Japanese friends, I really don’t have many opportunities to socialize with people who are truly fluent in English – and fluent they way that I am. The Japanese Best Friend is certainly fluent, but if I started to whistle, say, the theme to DuckTales, I don’t think that she would appreciate it the way that I do. Conversations really do take on a particular spin if you can make vague references to books, movies, songs, or people and have your associates understand you with little to no effort on their part.

Over time, I’ve adapted to not making these kinds of references in conversation. It’s as if I’m a radio station and when I broadcast on a normal day, I leave out the heavy metal, the political commentary, and the occasional risqué aside. When I meet with people like Zelda, though, I suddenly have the option of playing Sonata Arctica or offering an opinion about healthcare. There are, I also find, more opportunities for the well placed “that’s what she said” joke, which can be a valuable conversation maker (or breaker). I don’t always choose to use these elements, granted, but at least the option is there.

Wow, that was a lot of buildup for this particular memory. It also slightly takes away from Zelda because she’s starting to sound like a vehicle through which I can more fully express myself as a cultural entity. This was not exactly the point. She is, on her own merits, exceptionally funny and interesting to spend time with.

Still, the luncheon with her was an opportunity for me to remember that I like to talk to people. I like to hear what they do and listen to their stories. I enjoy making them laugh, and finding the right strings of humor and absurdity to tug on so that I can create all sorts of hysteria. I forget this sometimes, and in doing so I spiral downward into this belief that I prefer my apartment/cave/hobbit hole to the light of the Daystar and Those Who Would Frolic in It.

In truth, what I suspect what I prefer are conversations that do not focus on my superficial elements – be they foreign or American. This means that I probably don’t do well with meeting new people, because new associations often begin with the superficial and progress to the meaningful. This, among other things, leads me to believe that I will spend my entire life flirting with the role of the Byronic Hero(ine).

Still, lunch with Zelda, aside from being just a regular grand time, also gave me a lot to think about on my train ride home. I like to think of myself as stretching out my potential on a daily basis, but there really are some elements of my character that I can’t attend to while I’m in my current situation. This revelation is good for me to keep in mind, because it reminds me that there is more growth to be had once I get back to the United States.


Number 1: Seeing Wicked in Japanese

The summer before my senior year, I worked for the St. John’s Alumni office. It’s one of my fondest memories from college. My two bosses were genuinely funny, warm, and interesting people and they were very supportive of me throughout some rather difficult and trying times. In addition, they were responsible for another dinner that qualifies for a spot in my Top 5 Best Dinners of All Time. (That really is a post that I should focus on.)

So, the summer before my senior year, both of my bosses became obsessed with the musical Wicked, and subsequently drew me into their fanaticism. I listened to the soundtrack every day for three months while I worked out in the gym. During slow periods at work, it was not unknown for one of us to burst into song only to then be joined by the other two. They were fortunate enough to eventually see the stage show, but circumstances kept me from doing the same.

Until last Saturday night.

Knowing the play as well as I do and understanding Japanese to the point that I can, I wasn’t worried about the musical being in Japanese. In fact, I think in many ways, this play is almost more Japanese in feeling than Western. At the heart of the play is the conflict between Elphaba and Galinda/Glinda. One is, well, a Byronic Hero(ine), and the other is super cute, perky, and often superficial. This dichotomy is well-known to the Japanese and it shows up a lot in their books, movies, and music. I think that the actors fully understood their characters; all of the performances were simply superb.

What was particularly wonderful for me was that for the first time, I felt as though I were a real member of the audience. Whenever I go and see movies in Japan, I usually see them in English with Japanese subtitles. This means that I often understand jokes at different times or in different ways than the other audience members. Oftentimes, many asides and quips aren’t even translated. Nine times out of ten, my reactions to the movie are completely out of sync with everyone else’s.

On Saturday, though, we all went through the story together. Granted, there were some times when I found something to be particularly humorous that others did not, or they caught something in Japanese that I didn’t. For the most part, though, we were all on the same page. We were emotionally moved in the same way and at the same points; there was no sense of comprehension hierarchy or cultural ownership. We were all there to see and appreciate the exact same thing.

So, in addition to Wicked being a fantastic play, it did a lot to soothe the perpetual “one of these things (i.e. that-would-be-you-Julie) is not like the other” feeling that I often carry around with me. In this way, my weekend of relaxation in Osaka was truly made possible.
And now here, we are, the last day before the Spring Term begins (more or less). The New Student Entrance ceremony is next Tuesday, and then I believe that classes start on Thursday. We’ll have about a week or so of adjustments, meetings, and orientations, and I suspect things will settle down around the week of the 12th. This term is one of the longest in the school year, and won’t finish until the middle of July.

As we finish with the winter term, though, I find myself feeling reflective and thoughtful. There are a lot of “end of the year” ceremonies, dinners, and activities afoot right now, and I can’t help but think that next year they will focus (to some degree) on me. My students (Hermione and Hannah Montana in particular) were in a frenzy for some time before I reassured them that I wouldn’t be leaving this year. I dread their reactions when I finally depart next April, but I’ve resolved to cross that bridge when I come to it.

In the meantime, we’re on the edge of a new year full of new experiences and new opportunities. The Japanese Best Friend and I are going to Tokyo for a small vacation at the beginning of May, I hope to go back to Osaka sometime in the next few months, Jyona33 may very well be visiting us in July, and there is still talk that I may be allowed to move into the bigger apartment in my building.

So, those are the things that I’ll focus on for the moment. We have 366 days left, and we’re going to be very busy.


Odorou, minna issho
sore ga jinsei da
odoreba kokoro ga
aruku harebare to

Super Mega Weekend Update March 23, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Culinary Pursuits, Just Bizarre.
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After navigating through Gradation Mania, I was really looking forward to a weekend of indulgence and hobby-specific productivity. Lucky for me, Japan was in one of its “ask and ye shall receive” moods.

Saturday

Saturday featured chicken stock making and some one-on-one time with The Japanese Best Friend. We met for coffee, saw Sherlock Holmes, and then finished off the day with a lovely dinner at an Indian restaurant. The wonderful thing about spending time with TJBF is that she is so enthusiastic about the same things that I am. Coffee shops? Check. Movies with characters from classical English literature? She more than has my back. Indian food? Well, it was her suggestion. Ordering one of the largest meals on the menu and asking for cheese nan?

Okay, maybe that one was my idea. But she fully supported it, and it was delicious.

I think that my favorite part of the day was when we were talking over dessert (mango mousse) and tea. I love the point where, after having exhausted all recent topics with a friend, you somehow find yourself transported to that place where all of your conversation acquires more depth. It’s as if your thoughts have expanded to another dimension, and everything begins to have more substance and significance. We’ve had some wonderful conversations in our time, but I really enjoyed the kinds of things that we were discussing on Saturday night. It’s one of the things that makes our friendship so great and so interesting.

Sunday

Sunday was perhaps the day that I embraced my inner Donna Reed. Cleaning and cooking, my friends, cleaning and cooking. The entire day. I made another batch of the honey oatmeal bread, and then I tried my hand at homemade pretzels, which came out quite well indeed. I also had some extra beef in my refrigerator, so I used that and the veal bones to make a lovely stock.

And then there was this week’s soup.

I’m going to warn those reading this ahead of time, if you’re not terribly fond of the idea of an in-depth description of working with a “not entirely cleaned out” raw chicken, you might want to skip down to the section of this post where I discuss Monday.

For those that are still with me, first, let me direct you to the recipe for this soup. This soup, found in my much-loved Italian Soup Cookbook, features a whole, stuffed chicken. My father and I have never cooked a chicken in this fashion before, and so we were both keen on the idea.

So, after a lengthy, yet productive day full of my culinary challenges, I at last turned my attention to this chicken recipe. I prepared the stuffing (sans fennel seeds because they’re hard to come by in Japan) and then took the whole chicken out of its packaging. After washing it inside and out, I came to the following conclusions.

1)      Chickens look a lot like turkeys.
2)      Japan does not clean its chickens the way that America cleans its turkeys.

This is to say that instead of the rather factory fresh bag of giblets that I’m used to working with, the produce farm (or factory or whatever processed this chicken) decided to leave my bird’s major organs intact. They were kind enough to remove things that people do not normally eat, but as far as the heart, kidneys, liver, and (what I think was) a bladder (but I’m not sure) were concerned, those were left behind. Attached.

Now, this was not such a grand problem. I respectfully apologized to the bird for the slightly unorthodox and clumsy removal of its organs and went to work. I did find, however, that my love for the time-honored traditions known as the Circle of Life and The Food Chain met with some resistance when I observed that this chicken had a lot more of its neck than I am used to dealing with.

As in about four inches of neck.

I responded to this dilemma first practically, and then on a visceral level. Practically, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to remove the neck bone because my knives are not very sharp. I keep them this way for a simple reason: I am clumsy and my use of dull knives is the reason as to why I still have all of my fingers.

Still, to cook the chicken I needed to remove its neck, and so I (after apologizing again) applied my efforts to the task. This is where my visceral response kicked in because as I was going about my business, I chanced upon the chicken’s windpipe.

Windpipe.

Hearts, kidneys, liver, and even what might or might not be a bladder – those are all okay. A.O.K. as a matter of fact. I reconcile them with objects that are related to food (having eaten all of them except the bladder). Windpipe, though. Windpipe screams LIVING THING in a way that the others don’t. Windpipe conveys communication – calls and responses.

It was at this point that I had to sit down and stare at this bird, wondering what on earth I was going to do. I turned to my father for advice, who (rightly) suggested that I remove the windpipe along with the neck. He then took it upon himself to look up some information about cleaning out less-than-clean chickens, but told me that I probably didn’t want to look at any of these websites. Thus, he was not as much of a help as I’d hoped he would be.

After pacing around my apartment for a minute or to, I did the only sensible thing I could do.

I opened iTunes.

I put on Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger.

I took a moment to collect myself and offer the chicken my thanks.

And I finished making my soup.

The entire experience was very … vivid. It also fits well with a recent theme, where I’ve been having a strong reaction against routines that keep me from feeling my own vitality. I’ve felt resentment against everything from Kindles to my own email address, and I’ve found myself spending more time outside running or inside cooking things from scratch.

I suppose that, for whatever reason, I’ve entered into a phase where I want to feel myself living. I want to be aware of what’s keeping me going every day and I want to respect these processes. To some degree, I feel as though living in the countryside as I do, I’m more sensitive to cycles and natural rhythms than I was when I lived in the States. These living circumstances, combined with my growing awareness of the time I have left here, have left me yearning for ways to appreciate the present, and everything that goes into it.

Monday

After the Windpipe Incident, Monday was understandably less exciting. I more or less spent the day making pretzels for the teachers at my elementary schools and reading. It was a quiet day, and with my doors and windows open and a cool breeze flowing into my apartment along with the sunshine, it was everything that one could love about springtime.

It’s the eye of the tiger it’s the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival

Elementary Graduation Shenanigans, Part II March 23, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Cultural Exchange, Just Bizarre.
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First of all, my apologies that this and the Weekend Recap are up later than I’d intended for them to be. I had a three-day weekend, and My Tricks lead me down the path to an all-out cooking marathon that started Friday and ended late Monday night.

I’ll leave the cooking anecdotes for another post, but in the meantime, let’s finish off the theme of Elementary School Graduations and recount a few tidbits from last Friday.

I am incredibly fond of the sixth year classes at both of my elementary schools, but I’m not going to lie – the class from Friday’s elementary school has a special place in my heart. These children, as I believe I have mentioned before, are just so incredibly LOUD AND ENTHUSIASTIC about everything and anything. At several points during my sojourn in this country, I have observed that these children are quite possibly the loudest children in Japan.

Still, this complete and utter disregard for vocal volume levels is one of their greatest charms, and it’s one of the reasons that I have been infatuated with them since around September of 2006. Given the intensity of my regard, it’s not surprising that I was really grateful for the opportunity to see them graduate.

Going to an elementary graduation ceremony was a little unusual for me. I work at the middle school that these sixth years are going to attend, and so their graduation wasn’t so much a “farewell” ceremony for me. This made things a little awkward, because any time that another teacher chose to share their grief with me, they would ultimately recall my (different) circumstances and that would become the focus of the conversation. On one hand, this focus was occasionally positive; I had more than one teacher ask me to keep an eye on the kids as they transitioned into the middle school. On the other hand, the elementary teachers are really going to miss this class, and so the thought of me continuing to work with them was a little … difficult.

Still, the teachers at Friday’s elementary school are wonderful, kind-hearted people. Once we made it through the ceremony and had a chance to calm our emotions, we were all able to come together and be proud of the students’ accomplishments.

There are two particular incidents from Friday that stand out in my mind. The first took place during the ceremony itself. After receiving his or her graduation diploma from the principal, each student then went to a podium and gave us a brief speech about what they were looking forward to in the future. Most of the students pledged to study hard and to do their best in their middle school clubs. Some students took the opportunity to tell us about their dreams for the far future.

I’m not sure how to relate the following without sounding as if I’m bragging, so I’ll just write what happened and assure you ahead of time that the tone I’m using is one of bemused pride and giddiness. Here you have it: out of twenty-one graduating students, thirteen of them said that they were looking forward to studying English in middle school. In addition to that, one student told us that she wants to be an English teacher when she grows up. In addition to that, no other subject was singled out in this fashion. Students either vowed to study hard in general or vowed to study hard in English.

My delight in this development was nothing short of pure joy. It brought a smile to my face that didn’t fade until well after I was home and tucked in bed for the evening. As I said in a recent post, I try not to focus too much on the “English teacher” part of my job, because it’s such a difficult task and there are still days when I don’t think that I’m very good at it. Yet, when I see the signs of having had success at this very task, I can’t help but be pleased.

So, that was the first golden memory of the day.

The second took place later on in the teacher’s room, sometime in the early afternoon. The students had already been sent home, and so all of the teachers were working on their own tasks. Around 3:30, everyone took a break so that they could have some cake that the sixth grade teacher brought in to celebrate the graduation.

It is no secret that I love cake. In particular, I love extremely dense, rich, and bitter chocolate cake. This is to say that I love the kind of cake that this teacher chose to bring in. Unfortunately, I love cake so much that it’s included in the List of Things I Give Up For Lent. I’m not a strict Catholic by any means, but I do try to observe major holidays and practices – Lent being one of them. Following Lent isn’t always easy to do in Japan, especially when you give up sweets and Lent takes place during graduation season. I’ve had to turn away a lot of cake this year, and each time has been wrought with difficulties.

The most stressful of these incidents took place last Thursday. To celebrate the graduation on Friday, every student in Thursday’s elementary school received a piece of strawberry shortcake with their lunch. My lunch tray is prepared in teacher’s room, and so I had to tell the lunch lady that I couldn’t eat the cake. I was hoping that she would quietly acknowledge my predicament and then give the extra cake to the graduating class (this is what happened at my middle school). Unfortunately, that was not what happened.

Instead, I got to enjoy this exchange:

Me: Excuse me, lunch lady? I’m so sorry, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t eat the cake today.

Lunch Lady: Oh, you’re on a diet?  (eyes me appraisingly)

Me: Ah, no. It’s something to do with my religion. I can’t eat sweets until the beginning of April. (This is a very simple way to explain my situation, but I figured that simplest is best.)

Lunch Lady: So, you’re on a diet.

Me: No… it’s a religious thing. A Christian thing. A Catholic thing.

Lunch Lady: Religious diet?

Me: No… no diet. Just religion.

Lunch Lady: But you’ve already lost a lot of weight. Surely you can eat it today.

Me: … … … Thank you. But this has nothing to do with my weight. It’s a religious choice. Can you please give the cake to the sixth year class? I don’t want it to go to waste.

Lunch Lady: If you don’t want anybody to see you eat the cake, why don’t you just take it home?

Me: … … … I can’t eat it at home. I can’t sweets until April.

Lunch Lady: Is that when you’ll go off your diet?

And so forth and so on. Eventually, it was only by invoking the frighteningly stern and foreboding aspects of my intensely religious father and grandmother (a white lie if there ever was one, but it served my purposes) that she finally backed off about my weight loss schemes. Unfortunately for me, whenever anybody in the teacher’s room asked why I wasn’t eating cake, she chose to tell them it was because I’m on a diet.

It’s incidents like this one that make me seriously question the idea that the world will ever know peace between all nations. I cannot, for the life of me, convince a lunch lady in the countryside of Japan that my abstinence from shortcake is rooted in religion and not a desire to slim my waist line. Yet, there are those who are striving to reconcile vastly divergent philosophies and schools of thought.

All I have to say to them is: “Good luck – you’re going to need it. In the meantime, I’m going to keep working on my shortcake situation.”

Anyway, I seem to have run off on a rather substantial tangent. Returning to our story, we were at the moment when the teachers at Friday’s elementary school were dividing up the cake into sixteen pieces – one for each of us. I was thus faced with the following dilemma: Do I hold fast to my vows of Lent and risk the curse of Unshakeable Preconceived Diet Notions, or do I eat the cake and try not to feel as though I’ve let myself down?

Sighing heavily, I chose Lent and braced myself for the onslaught of weight-related queries.

And to my delight, found none. Not a single one.

Unlike what took place at Thursday’s school, the teachers at Friday’s school actually listened to what I had to say and they were fascinated by the idea. Fasting and abstinence are not unheard of in the East, but I don’t suspect that my coworkers at Friday’s school have had many opportunities to interact with the Christian practice. They were polite, curious, and very respectful. The vice principal was so sensitive about eating the cake in front of me, that he took it upon himself to describe the taste to me. This eventually morphed into an intensely thorough critique of the cake, which left the sixth grade teacher bemused. I commented that the whole scenario reminded me of Iron Chef, and was thus rewarded with a room full of laughter.

And so, as far as shenanigans go, I do believe that I did well for myself on Friday.

And you wonder will I leave [my country], but how?
I cross over borders but I’m still there now

Elementary Graduation Shenanigans: Part I March 19, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Just Bizarre, Lessons Learned.
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So, as of now I’m writing from two solid days of elementary school graduation activity. Even though this is my fourth year, this is the first year that I’ve been involved in these graduations to any degree; in the past, my schedule was such that I was assigned to one of my middle schools on the day that the elementary schools held their ceremonies.

Thursday was a lot busier than I anticipated, and I found myself (somewhat reluctantly because I had some work to do) drawn into the preparations for Friday’s ceremony. I had the opportunity to see the final graduation practice, and I also had two productive classes with the third and fourth years.

In the afternoon, the first, second, third, and sixth graders were dismissed early and the fourth and fifth years were assigned tasks around the school. Normally, these are the kinds of activities that make me very happy; it’s a great opportunity to wander around the school, talk to the students, and be useful. On Thursday, though, I still had a stack of letters waiting for me and so opted to stay back in the teacher’s room to finish them (we can thank Monday through Wednesday’s jaunt through Procrastinationland for that predicament).

The elementary school’s secretary, however, had other ideas.

Before I begin my tale of Awkward and Woe, let me preface it by saying that I like this woman very much. She is probably one of the most sophisticated people that I’ve met in my four years here, and I find her stories of escaping the countryside to frolic in Tokyo immensely entertaining. If it weren’t for her vibrant use of the local dialect, I would theorize that she is from somewhere much more interesting and civilized. Yet, she’s 100% native, and proves this by how often she tosses out the most ridiculous idioms that one would only hear in the heart of Kansai Japan. Since she is one of the reasons that I enjoy going to the Thursday elementary school as much as I do, I’ll go ahead and make her a character. I present to you Lisa Douglas.**

So, I was minding my own business and trying to finish my letters, when Lisa Douglas approached me for assistance. In many Japanese schools, when students graduate, their certificates are rolled up into decorative tubes. Depending on the school’s tradition, the tubes are sometimes decorated with ribbons or flowers. She had 25 tubes to decorate and asked if I would lend her a hand.

I’m going to let you in on a (not so very) secret: I am not the most arts and crafty person in the world. I can write (to some degree…), I can cook, I can occasionally knit or cross stitch, and I know enough about layout and design so that I can make relatively interesting posters for my students every month.

But, I cannot: draw, paint, sculpt, papier-mâché, properly wrap Christmas gifts, use felt in any way that doesn’t involve inadvertently gluing it to different parts of my body, make braided/beaded/sequined anything, sew, darn, patch, or cut paper in a straight line. To illustrate this point further – do you know how when you were in elementary school, you would look at a wall of student artwork and see that one unfortunate picture suffocating under about fifteen layers of paint and oil pastel? The picture where it was obvious that the child’s attempt to correct a small mistake had morphed into an even larger one and every subsequent attempt to bring the picture back into focus only added on another two pounds of writing compound?

Yessir. That was my picture.

That being said, asking me to wrap these certificate tubes with lacey, intricate ribbon was quite brave of her. There may or may not have been a 72% chance that I would miscalculate and somehow hang myself.

Still, some sort of universal goodwill was on my side, and I completed my task without incident. Although the half-hour or so that I worked on the tubes was both stressful and tense, I a) didn’t break anything and b) carried on a relatively intelligible conversation with Lisa.

It was after I finished that we began to run into problems.

The first issue was no one’s fault but my own and was a product of my extreme shyness and general lack of finesse that manifest when I’m in an almost empty room with Lisa and The Mentor (yet another secret for you: The Mentor kind of terrifies me).

What we had was a rather substantial breakdown in communication between What I Intended to Say and What I Actually Said.

Observe:

Lisa: So, Julie, where are you going for spring break?
What I Intended to Say: Oh, I’m going to Osaka for a few days.

What I said: Oh, I’m going to Osaka for a few days.

So far, so good.

Lisa: That’s right, you told me. Are you going by yourself?
What I Intended to Say: Yes, but it’s no problem. I’m looking forward to relaxing.

What I Said: Yes, but it’s no problem. I want to relax and get away from people for a few days.

Not so different, no, but recall my aforementioned modus operandi. Small Mistake = Over Exuberant Efforts to Correct It = Unfortunate Mess.

Lisa: Well, I can see how you must be very tired.
What I Intended to Say: Yes, so, I’m looking forward to relaxing by myself for a few days.

What I Said: Yes. Er, don’t get me wrong, I really do like people. I mean, well, I’m traveling alone, but I’ll probably text my father the whole time. I always text him when I travel. He asks me questions and I send him pictures of the places that I visit! It’s like we travel together!!!

It was at this point that my inside voice walked up to my outside voice, kicked it in the shin, informed it that it was own it’s own, bid it farewell, and retired for the evening.

I’d continue to give you a play by play account of how I willingly sacrificed my dignity in the name of over articulating my plans for Spring Break, but I think that you can imagine how things went.

Still, God Bless Lisa, the woman didn’t even bat an eye. Sophistication in motion, I tell you. Sophistication. She took each of my vain attempts to correct my initial mistake in stride, and shooed away my subsequent apologies as if the foreign language teacher dishing about how she and her father are BFF were an everyday occurrence. (Which we are and which I am not ashamed of, but I probably don’t need to be broadcasting this in Extreme Detail to my coworkers via Julie FM.)

Things proceeded steadily downhill from there. The next task in Preparing the Certificate Tubes project required us to put these tubes into a box. One would think that this would be a relatively simple task, where Step 1 is to find a box and Step 2 is to put the tubes into that box. Like most things, though, it wasn’t that simple. First, we had to find a way to keep the tubes separated while they were in the box, so that they wouldn’t brush against each other and crush the frilly bows. Orchestrating this took up a lot of space in the one box that we had, so we had to then make another box for the leftover tubes. Due to a variety of factors (one large one being that I misunderstood her directions and nearly ruined the wrapping paper that we were using), what should have taken one hour took two hours, and it was after 4:30 before we finally pulled ourselves from our nest of tape, paper, and cardboard. It was with bleary eyes that I packed up my things, shrugged into my warm cloak of Shame and Humility, and shuffled out the door. Lisa, true to form, warmly wished me a good evening. The Mentor was also gracious in his thanks for my efforts.

So… in what way is this memory of afternoon gaffes worth holding on to?

I suppose I’d like to keep it with me, instead of burying it in the backyard with all of my other Embarrassing Exploits (a veritable graveyard if there ever was one), because the discomfort that I’m feeling from my interactions with Lisa are the product of putting myself in new circumstances. They’re growth pains. At least, I hope they’re growth pains and not just the pains of trying to do something that I’m really not meant to do.

My theory here is that with practice, I will cultivate more of an ability to navigate Japanese social occasions with grace and charm. Or, at least, with the ability to make my outside voice pay a little more attention to that inside one.

Still, it goes to show that like my pictures, spending time with me is perhaps a little unusual, a bit on the intense side, and always interesting.

**This is a reference to Green Acres, and an indication that I perhaps indulged in Nick at Nite a little too often as a child. Please, oh pretty please, somebody get this reference. Do not let me be super old and nerdy.

Isn’t poetry one of the biggest gifts to forget our daily life of sorrow?

Do not beware the jub jub bird March 17, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Julie Gets Philosophical.
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Because he is our friend.

And before we forget, let’s all rejoice in the knowledge that our okonomiyaki lunch in Osaka is now only eight days away. By this time next week, I will most likely be listing the kinds of things I want the chefs to put on top of this sacred pancake before they serve it to me. (Among our options are: bacon, ham, cheese, mayonnaise, and fish flakes.)

So, The Jabberwocky. This poem raised its head again on Wednesday and it brought the day together in a rather elegant fashion. I’m the kind of person who is easily entertained whenever I observe harmony in the events that transpire around me, and something to this effect happened this afternoon.

I only had two classes today, and both involved giving my first year students an interview speaking test. We’ve been working on this test for over a month, and I’ll confess that I’ve spent the entire time worrying that I made this test too difficult. It’s my hope that by preparing for this test my students will feel more secure going into the (significantly more difficult) second year course. To that end, when I wrote the test I incorporated as many verb tenses and as much vocabulary as I dared. The students were extremely vocal (vocal = discontent) about the test when we first introduced it in February, but over time they seemed to settle down. Still, I was nervous right up until I graded the first student.

And the outcome? I’m happy to report that I was not out of my mind when I prepared this activity and that the students all gave more than satisfactory performances. I was really pleased with not only how well they did, but also with how far they’ve come in the last few weeks. Many of the students went from not being able to read or understand the interview questions to answering all of the questions fluently and with great comprehension. To be sure, there are still one or two students that are more lost than, um, found … but there’s still hope.

The Jabberwocky came into the picture after school had ended for the day and the students were preparing to leave. I was out by the bike racks and chatting with my first year students when one of the girls ran by me and shouted, in English, “I am not a bird!” I don’t know what the context of this declaration was (and may never know), but it provoked another group of first year girls to laugh and reply: “Beware the jub jub bird!” Then, another group of first year students chose to follow-up with: “One, two! One, two! And through and through!” I was so surprised that they remembered these parts from the poem that I couldn’t do much more than stand there and laugh with them. Over the next few minutes, the different groups of first years kept shouting different parts of the poem to each other, and they finally finished when I stepped in by request and recited it all by heart.

Needless to say, my coworkers and the second year students were thoroughly confused.

I’ve been thinking about this memory all evening, and I believe that it means so much to me because it’s one of the few times that I’ve looked at my students and seen so clearly that these students trust me as an English teacher. My role here, as I’ve mentioned several times before, is tricky and undefined; most of the time I hold myself as an Assistant Teacher with Delusions of Grandeur. It’s hard to know to what degree my students (for lack of a better phrase) buy into what I show them in class. I know that they enjoy my games, my projects, and the music/movies that I show them, but I don’t know how much of an effect all of these things have on them. I can never be sure that once they leave English class, their interest in the subject isn’t shoved into the back of their desks with their textbook.

Today, however, I saw my students playing catch with jumbled up English phrases from a poem that I introduced to them in class. Having this incident occur so soon after this morning’s successful speaking test, I was able to see clearly that I’ve helped to foster the connection between these people and the English language. I helped them find this connection, and they trusted me when I told them it was a connection that they should make. Now, something like The Jabberwocky is a part of my students’ lives. It’s a shared experience, it’s a joke – and this gives English more life and more meaning to them than I ever could have hoped for.

All of these realizations hit me at once this afternoon, and it made the whole charmingly silly episode rather profound. Over the past couple of years, I think I’ve begun to see myself less as an English teacher and more as a mentor to my middle school students. Today, though, it was nice to see that I am beginning to cultivate some authority as an English instructor.

It’s wild like the river, it’s warm like the sun
It’s here, this is where I belong

Let’s not forget about the pretzels March 16, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Julie Gets Philosophical, Lessons Learned, Taking Initiative.
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First things first:

The Official Osaka Countdown Clock puts us at 9 days or about 225 hours away from the much-anticipated okonomiyaki lunch in Namba! I would start packing, but I’m afraid I have plans to use those clothes before my departure. Alas. -_-;;

Moving on to a more reflective tone, I think that we can safely say that Tuesday was more upbeat and productive than Monday was (although I did not make bread today). I managed to get a significant amount of work done, and then I’ve also narrowed down my Weekend Cooking Project to either cinnamon rolls or soft pretzels. The cinnamon rolls are slightly tricky, because I’m technically observing Lent right now and all chocolate and pastries are off-limits until April 4th.

Although I could, theoretically, invoke the more forgiving interpretation of this pre-Easter trial and break Lent on Sunday to indulge in cinnamon goodness, I’m not sure that this idea is wise. I’m presently leaning towards the pretzels because I could make a lot of them on Monday and give them out to my schools next week. This makes Sunday a little more bearable, because it’s already going to be taken up with making lamb stock, crafting the Soup of the Week, and baking bread.

Anyway, this is more or less my inner cooking monologue, and all that really matters in the great scheme of This Blog is that I spent a little bit of time today researching my cooking options.

As far as memories go,Tuesday was interesting. Tuesday was the day that I took the initiative to seek out new interactions with my students that will, in time, develop into next year’s routine. Of course, the seeds of this routine have already been planted. After all, we’re already familiar with many of the characters I goofed around with today (Hannah Montana, Hermione, Clemente, The Child). Still, the times that I choose to linger around my students and the places that I choose to do this lingering – those are different now, and we’re all making adjustments.

I’m not sure how to qualify the exact memory I’m taking with me. It was … vivid. Vivid and …. alive.

I’ve mentioned before that I enjoy running and that I’ve finally started to get back into a running regimen after my winter break. Last year, when I went running during the spring, I always left work at 4:15 so that I could run around my village before it got dark.

Today, though, I felt like doing something different. Instead of leaving work at 4:15, I changed into my running clothes, grabbed my iPod, and settled for doing large laps around the school for about forty minutes. I wasn’t sure how the other teachers or the students would react, but I didn’t think that they would be against me getting a little exercise.

It turns out that everyone was incredibly enthusiastic about it. The principal praised me for healthy initiatives, thus removing any potential administrative barriers to my jogging. Additionally (but most importantly), my students mobbed me before they left school for the day. They were mostly interested in what I was listening to on my iPod, but they were also curious about the running itself. I often forget that my students are very physical beings (they can’t help it with all of the time they dedicate to their clubs), and one of the quickest ways to spark their interest and garner respect is to show them that I have some kind of physical skills; I do not spend all of my time making lesson plans, speaking English, and learning Japanese.

Incidentally, the other quickest way to spark their interest is to give them food. But, I can’t exactly do that every day.

I nearly forgot to mention – I did chance to see Mary Sunshine briefly after school. She came by to see her home room teacher and ask him a few questions, so I took the opportunity to say hello and lament about the tattered shreds of my lonely ALT heart. We caught up for a bit before I took my leave to start the aforementioned exercise.

It’s as I said before, though. I’m still suffering the pangs of Empty Nest Syndrome, but I’m recovering – just as my former-third years are. I don’t want to go so far as to say that Time is a Great Healer, but I will say that Time, if viewed with the correct perspective, creates opportunities to make changed circumstances into something new and interesting. I still have a lot of things to do – projects that await completion, odd ideas that deserve to see the light of day, and students to charm and/or bully into doing their homework.

And let’s not forget about those pretzels and cinnamon rolls.

If I could make these moments endless

Perhaps Tolstoy would approve March 15, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Me Time, Student Moments.
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I say this because I’ve spent the evening making loaves of honey oatmeal/whole wheat bread. I was inspired to do this when I went to the supermarket after work and I found, to my complete and utter amazement, bags of whole wheat flour for sale. This was a first for me; I’ve never been able to find whole wheat flour at any of my local stores and so I’ve always purchased it online. I suspect that buying it online and in bulk is the more economical way to go, but having the option of acquiring it locally is nice, too.

As soon as I saw the flour I knew that I had an evening project for myself. The weather has been rainy and misty all day, so a few hours spent making my own “I actually really want to eat this” bread sounded like fun.** I have the first loaf baking as we speak, and I’m really looking forward to trying it once it’s out and had a chance to rest.

I suspect that what also contributed to my desire to throw my heart and soul into baking this evening was that I was (and I hate to say this) a bit bored at work today. It’s not that I don’t have plenty to keep me occupied. It’s that I don’t have too much work to do. I’m not used to feeling, well, not overwhelmed, and so it was difficult to stay focused today. I may or may not have spent significant time on Wikipedia reading up on the backgrounds of every character that has ever been on Friends. Also, here’s a fun fact: some prehistoric penguins were as tall and heavy as humans.

Anyway, with the combination of bad weather, a too-empty-and-third-grader-less school, and the allure of useless-yet-easily-accessible online trivia, I think I was feeling a little too detached from reality by the time that I finally clocked out for the day. I suspect that there are few better ways to ground oneself than making one’s own bread from scratch, and so that’s what I did. It seems to have worked; not only is my mood vastly improved, but I also have warm, healthy bread.

And so I think that Tolstoy, with his love of natural rhythms and processes, would be proud. Considering that he devotes significant chapters of Anna Karenina to describing the mowing process on a 19th century Russian estate, I feel as though he would be down with my bread baking.

(Incidentally, after my first taste test of my evening’s efforts, I think we can safely predict that my Sundays will henceforth be known as the days of “Weekly Soups and Bread Baking”.)

In many ways, baking my own bread certainly qualifies as a worthy memory from today. I’m tempted to leave things as they are right here, but there is another incident that pulls at me so I might as well mention it.

Today, The Child did not have what we could call one of his “good days.”

It was a testament to the strength of our relationship that he humored me to the degree that he did and that he kept his patience with my badgering and bullying – and by “kept his patience,” I mean that he didn’t physically push me away or get up and walk out of the classroom. The activity that The JTE came up with for today was, generally speaking, a good one for the kids, but it was overwhelming for him and he fought me the entire class period. I suppose you could say that I was victorious, but it wasn’t much of a victory.

I tried to help him out as much as I could, but nothing was able to keep him from sauntering down the roads of “I hate English,” “Why do Japanese people have to learn this stupid language?” “I hate you,” and (my favorite) “I hate you especially when you help me.”  I know that he didn’t mean what he said, and so I’m certainly not angry with him. He was incredibly frustrated, and I know that when faced with how much of the language he doesn’t know, he just turns off and pushes everything (and everybody) out of his way.

I think that I was particularly worried about this behavior today because he’s been doing so well and trying so hard lately. Today, though, we reviewed material from a time before he made an effort, and so it’s not surprising that he found the activity to be difficult. In addition, I know that there was actually a lot about the activity that was within his level, but he wasn’t in the mood to look for it. I’m not sure if this attitude will persist to the end of the school year and into the next term, or if it was just an isolated incident. I’m also concerned that this is going to ruin my chances of convincing him to do the Othello Rap with me.

I suppose that the only thing that I can do is try to be as supportive of him as possible. He’s one of my favorites, and I hope that he understands that at the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter to me if he learns English or not. What’s important to me is who he is as a person and how he’s growing into that role. I don’t care how many verbs he can conjugate; I care that he tries his best to fulfill his responsibilities and that he keeps a positive attitude about himself and about those around him. He needs to learn to cultivate the discipline to turn his circumstances to his advantage, and to endure the parts of life that are, unfortunately, a little tedious.

It’s those lessons – not just English – that I want to help him with. I feel profoundly grateful when I have the opportunity to do this, and when I have days when I feel as though I successfully navigate those opportunities. These days are perhaps few and far between, but they give me something to strive towards. I’m not sure if he realizes it, but he challenges me just as much as I challenge him, and we’re both learning a lot along the way.

**I qualify my whole wheat bread thusly because 99.9% of the bread sold in Japan is of the “please get that away from my body I really don’t want to touch it much less eat it Oh. My. God. HOW MUCH MAYONNAISE did you just put on that???” highly refined white bread variety.

Fly away down the lonely roads of destiny

3.14 = Pi Day! March 14, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Apologies, Japanese GET, Julie Gets Philosophical, Time to Party.
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It would seem that if I am consistent about anything, I am consistent about Having Good Intentions. We seem to have the “Early-Week-Blogging” routine secured, it’s just that “Hump-Day-Going-Into-The-Weekend” portion that continues to elude us. I blame it on Thursday. And Bad Luck. Between Chaos and Illness, Thursday night has started to become that “required Night of Comfort Food and Great Movies.” Last week featured spicy chicken with rice soup and Wayne’s World. It did not feature an update about how much I love the vice principal at Thursday’s elementary school.

Okay, so, pulling away from my errant nature, let’s regroup, focus, and do what needs to be done. We have memories – actual, honest to goodness memories – to peruse. And I must say it’s about time.

Thursday: I love the vice principal at Thursday’s elementary school
…because he was extremely generous and let me go home after lunch to finish recuperating from my cold.

In addition to this love, though, Thursday was special for me because I had a class with The First Years. It was our last class of the year, and things went particularly well. Their home room teacher was back with us (The Hippie), and so they were a lot more manageable this time around (she was absent for the last class and so we were all feeling a bit feisty and difficult). To put it plainly, on Thursday The First Years did everything that makes me adore them as much as I do. They were rabidly curious about all elements of the lesson, they were enthusiastic, when they made mistakes they were comically horrified, and they danced the macarena like nobody’s business.

I’m not sure if I’ll have a class with them next year or not (I haven’t been informed of any decisions to that effect), so it’s still up in the air as to whether or not that was my last class with them. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Friday: Sticker Please
At Friday’s elementary school, the 12th was the last day for students to earn and/or redeem stickers for this year’s sticker card. Demonstrating that the art of procrastination transcends all borders, races, and religions, the students waited until the last possible moment to crowd around me, grubby and well-loved sticker cards in hand, so that they could get the prizes that they finally chose to covet. Some students were so desperate to finish their cards that they spent the entire day stalking me between classes and writing me letters. It was perhaps not the most graceful end to this year’s Achievement Card program, but I suspect that things worked out for the best. The process was chaotic and enthusiastic, but generally positive. I didn’t have to deal with more than a few bad attitudes or similar points of conflict.

What really made this day for me, though, was that the teachers were incredibly kind, gracious, and helpful. Also, they invited me to have lunch with them next Friday after the graduation ceremony. If this by any chance involves leaving the school to eat at, say, a restaurant, then it will be the first time that an elementary school has ever extended a social invitation to me. That’s enough of an achievement to leave me feeling accomplished for at least the next two or three weeks. ~_^

Saturday: I Was a Social Hermit
The “hermit” part happened in the morning, and then the “social” in the evening. Friday evening found me the happy recipient of my lamb and veal bones, so I spent Saturday morning making a veal stock for Sunday’s soup. (I’ll post the recipe later.) I also cleaned and spent a significant amount of time chatting with my father and Jyona33, so it was most certainly a productive time.

In the afternoon, I drove out to The Japanese Best Friend’s house where we had a Sayonara Party for Rocko, who will be returning to the States on the first of April. It was a nice party, with good food and good company. The Japanese Best Friend’s husband was particularly engaging and hilarious, so we all laughed a lot. I’ll be honest, though, and say that my favorite part of the evening was the rest period right before we finished cooking and the guests arrived. Sitting down with her to talk and drink green tea is probably one of my most favorite things to do.

Sunday: Running skills – I still have them
As you may have surmised, I haven’t been running a lot over the last few months. The weather hasn’t really cooperated with me and it’s been getting dark so early that I can’t see anything by the time that I get home from work. With spring having finally, well, sprung, the time has come to dust off the running shoes and get back to work.

It was funny, because I went outside with the idea that I would just take a half-hour walk, but before I knew it, I’d started to jog. I was able to do one of my 4k runs without any problems, and so I don’t think it will take me that long to get back to 5k.

As I was running, I realized a few things that were important, and that brought a lot of the day into focus for me.The first was that I don’t have any real desire to run extensive marathons. I think that if I can get to the point where I can easily and consistently run 5k a few times a week, I’ll be content with myself. It’s nice to have a significant, yet not overwhelmingly challenging goal.

Having decided upon this, I also realized that my village is gorgeous. I think this is something that I forget about during winter but then suddenly rediscover every spring. With the plum blossoms in bloom and the cherry blossoms just on the horizon, the world around me is clearly waking up and stretching its wings. Being outside, I felt that same sensation inside of me. This feeling only grew stronger as I ran up and down the mountain hills, past the rice fields, past the Wisdom Shrine, across the old bridges that drape over the Ouchiyama river, and down old, moss-covered streets.

The air in my village changes significantly with the seasons. In summer it’s heavy and damp, and it smells strongly of grass and old wood. In the fall, the smoke from garbage fires and stoves is almost spicy, and it slices through the chill. Winter is disturbing because there aren’t many smells in the air – it’s as if everything really has frozen in time. It’s as if we’re all holding our breath.

But spring, though. In spring, the gardens are freshly plowed, the flowers are vibrant and sweet, and people have opened their windows and doors, welcoming spring and mixing the smells of the inside and outside worlds. It’s a time where we all exhale and savor every breath after.

Never giving in
Until we find the words to say

Well, they’re gone. March 9, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Julie Gets Philosophical, Student Moments.
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After months of anticipation and weeks of volatile emotions all around, today thirty-one students received their diplomas at my middle school. The weather was perhaps fitting for the occasion, although in my opinion it was too heavy-handed to be artistically ironic. It poured the entire day. Cold, wet, windy rain that made sitting in the unheated gym for two hours rather miserable. Still, it was what it was and we made the best of it.

Middle school graduations in small Japanese towns are perhaps more of an occasion than they are in larger towns (in Japan or elsewhere). These students have been together for a long time – many of them for nine years, and the class size is small enough so that they certainly know each other well. They’ve studied the same subjects, had the same teachers, gone on the same trips, and participated in the same clubs. This ceremony isn’t just an end to compulsory education, but it’s also a significant break with childhood. From here, everyone will scatter to different high schools, some in completely different towns or even (as with one of my students) different prefectures.

It’s not suprising that everyone – boys and girls, teachers, parents, and students – cry at these ceremonies.

Still, my third years are happy and positive by nature and they weathered through the emotional roller coaster rather well. After the ceremony, we spent a great deal of time reminiscing and taking pictures. Once everyone left, I enjoyed a lovely lunch with the other female teachers. Tomorrow we’ll find out which teachers will stay at the school for another year and which ones will be transferred, and so that was the Hot Topic of conversation.

For my part, I seem to be doing well enough. This is my fourth graduation and I think that I am starting to become used to the process. This class was particularly dear to me; I’ve known them since they were in sixth grade and, as you all know, we were close.

I can’t possibly pick only one moment from the day to focus on, so let’s make use of ICE CREAM.

~ Toshiki’s Sister gave me a lovely letter thanking me for teaching her English and asking me to help her if she ever visits the States. This was unexpected, and a very sweet gesture. She is someone that I’m sure will eventually make several international trips – that lifestyle will suit her – and I would welcome the opportunity to assist her.

~ Mary Sunshine took me aside with her father, told him I was one of her best friends and reiterated that we would train together this summer. She’s going to be the most difficult student for me to let go of – we really did spend a lot of time together and she was the one that I felt the most comfortable around.

~ The Boss finally forgave me for every wrong I’ve ever done him. Granted, I’m still not sure what these wrongs were, but at least I know that I won’t have to suffer some sort of Boss-inspired Purgatory at some point.

~ The Savant told me that he would “always remember [me], even when [he is] thirty years old”. Since this figure is roughly double his current age, I feel that this is indeed a profound declaration.

~ Macho Man took several pictures with me where we flexed our muscles. I so badly want to make a T-shirt out of one of them saying something to the effect of: YES. WE ARE MACHO.

~ Even though I mixed up some parent-child relationships, the parents were very forgiving. (Sometimes children really don’t look like their parents. -_-; )

~ Last, but certainly not least, I really appreciated The Awesome Vice Principal letting me go home a little early today. It was obvious that I was under the weather, and sitting in a cold and dreary staff room was not Where I Wanted To Be. He told me that I could take tomorrow off too, if I wished, but I plan to go in anyway. Thursday is going to be a busy day at the elementary school and I have a lot of things to prepare for my sixth years on Friday.

Now that this graduation is over with, we’re in the home stretch. I really don’t have more than a couple of handfuls of classes before the winter term ends and the spring one beings.

Just now, I was reflecting a little on that last sentence, about beginnings and endings, and I recalled something from the principal’s graduation speech. In his speech, he talked about how in English, we often call graduation ceremonies “commencement ceremonies,” because the idea is that the school is sending the graduates off into the world. I particularly like the way that he phrased this part of the speech; the image was very clear and powerful. It made me think about the places that I’ve gone to after my various commencement ceremonies, and the ways in which different parts of my life prepared me for those journeys.

I suppose this concept of learning and then being “sent off” to do something is rather timeless. However, it also strikes me as somewhat a product of our global age. There does seem to be a growing need for people to leave their homes to go and see new things. Sometimes we return, sometimes we keep traveling, sometimes we settle someplace completely new and unexpected. It’s the responsibility that we gave to our students this morning, and it’s a responsibility that I’ve been trying to fulfill for the last four years.

When I think about today’s events from this perspective, I don’t feel quite as sad as I did before. My former-third years and I – we’re both out in the world now, seizing new opportunities and experiences away from where we started. It’s undoubtedly the way that things are supposed to be. Our separation is not something to mourn about – it’s an opportunity to rejoice. Given the option, I choose to do the latter and to wish them all well on their journeys.

I’m gonna live my life like there’s no one to blame
Wasting time is a crying shame

Soup and Sentiment March 8, 2010

Posted by Earthdragonette in Just Bizarre.
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So… first things first. I present to you this week’s soup, as made by the International Father-Daughter Team. I have a lot of dried beans that I’m trying to use up, so I suggested that we make something with red lentils. This was what we found:

Turkish Red Lentil Soup (courtesy of this site)

  1. Bring 12 cups of water to a boil and add red lentils and 2 tsp salt. Simmer for 30 minutes.
  2. While lentils are cooking, put the olive oil, onions, and potatoes in a large saute pan and saute for 4 minutes or until the onions are translucent. Add the bulgur, paprika, cumin, cayenne, and stir until browned about 2-3 minutes. Then add the tomatoes, tomato paste, parsley, and stir for 2-3 more minutes.
  3. Add the contents of this pot to the lentils along with the additional 4 cups of water. Simmer for another 40 minutes or until the lentils and bulgur are soft.
  4. Some recipes recommend that you put the soup in a blender when finished and puree it. Normally, when I have it in restaurants it is pureed. The family recipes do not add this step, and I served it without pureeing. Either way it is equally delicious. If you want to impress guests, you might try pureeing. Otherwise, just serve as is.
  5. When ready to serve, add the lemon juice. You may want to serve with sliced lemon, fresh mint, plain yogurt, or sumac to add after serving, or you can add to each bowl for a beautiful and tasty finish!

My dad and I both left out the bulgur, and I used a can of tomatoes instead of fresh ones (since they’re still not really in season here). We also cut the recipe in half, since 16 cups of soup is a lot of soup and freezer space is limited.

I very much liked this soup. The texture makes it great for pairing with bread (in particular this bread, which I also made yesterday) and a glass of wine. The taste is very earthy and has a lot of layers to it. I definitely recommend adding something sour at the end (lemon juice, yogurt, sour cream…) ~ I think that the balance is strange if it’s left out.

Culinary-wise, I’m particularly pleased right now, because thanks to The Meat Guy I finally found veal bones and lamb bones so that I can make something besides chicken or vegetable stock. I’ve asked my dad that we make this week’s soup beef-stock oriented and he promised to find something interesting.

So… besides cooking, what’s been going on? What kinds of memories have I been making?

To tell you the truth, whatever force it was that awoke in February and decided to Mix Things Up in my life, it has decided to stay for the month of March as well. Given the way things are looking at present, I have a feeling that it’s going to make itself at home for the duration of 2010.

The more that I think about it, this force, whatever it may be, isn’t exactly malignant. It’s not something as simple as Bad Luck. The things that are happening, I can see why they’re happening so there’s method to this madness. In many cases, what starts out as difficult and frustrating ultimately resolves into something positive. The process by which we get from the frustrating to the positive, however, is what’s taking a lot of energy out of me.

In addition, there is no middle ground as far as my experiences (and memories) go. I am not having “okay” days. I’m having days where my activities and interactions are EXTREMELY GOOD or EXTREMELY UNFORTUNATE. The highs are high, the lows are low, and there is most definitely not any “in between” to speak of. Moderation has all but left the building.

Here’s an example of what I mean. Let’s examine what happened to me on Saturday.

~ Got up, had breakfast, enjoyed a lengthy conversation with my father = Very Good!

~ Drove to the gas station and had a lovely conversation with the attendants (an older couple) who are very interested in me and asked a lot of polite, well-meaning questions = Very Good!

~ Went to an Italian Restaurant and was not given certain menus because they didn’t think I could understand Japanese. Was forced to order a more expensive meal than I’d wanted to = Somewhat Unfortunate

~ During the meal at this restaurant, the pizza crust chipped one of my tooth implants = Extremely Unfortunate

~ Went to see Mozart’s Don Giovanni = Very Good!

~ Got Starbucks and great cooking supplies on the way home = Very Good!

~ Woke up several times throughout the evening sick because of aforementioned overly expensive Italian meal = Unfortunate

So, in the end, I can’t say that Saturday was a bad day, per say. But the Goods were good, the Unfortunates were unfortunate, and I am trying to keep things in perspective as best as I can. My situation could most certainly be worse (knock on wood), and to mope about the Unfortunates would take away from the Goods, which I refuse to let happen.

Still, Saturday is more or less the paradigm that I’ve lived through almost every day since the start of February. This is one of the reasons it’s been difficult to write about my memories; I’m not really sure what to say since each day is such a marbled mixture of both Positive and Negative. By the time that the end of the day rolls around, I’m really only good for making dinner and listening to heavy metal on repeat. It’s as if… and forgive me the slight hyperbole in this statement… it’s as if my experiences are a little too vivid. I feel overwhelmed by the sharpness of my experiences right now, and it’s been difficult to write about them.

Thinking about this, it occurs to me that (as I more or less said before) trying to keep a grounded perspective is the best thing I can do right now. I suspect that such a perspective, more than anything else, will help me to navigate through the bizarre waters that I seem to have drifted into.

So, skipping over the second part of last week because, well, I can’t remember that much of it ^_^;; … let’s try to focus on Monday.

Today was, not surprisingly, somewhat bittersweet. It was the last full day of school for the third years; their graduation ceremony is tomorrow. On one hand, everyone at the school is proud of the them and we want them to move forward. On the other hand, they’ve been a really great class and the school will feel empty without them. The students themselves have similar feelings, and so everyone’s emotions are wildly fluctuating between merriment and, well, misery.

I spent as much of my day around them as was humanly possible. I went to see them in between classes, ate with them at lunch, cleaned with them, and signed dozens of yearbooks. Mary Sunshine, Macho Man, and, yes, The Savant stayed close to me, too, I noticed. Mary Sunshine made me promise that we would go running on weekends and during the summer, and that she would always be welcome to do a home stay in the States. We also took moments here and there to sing Jay Sean songs and to dance together. Macho Man and I spent most of the day flexing our muscles and proclaiming to any-and-everybody that “We ARE Macho!” The Savant took several opportunities to tell me that he respected me very much and that he still maintains that He Is Perfect.

I did manage to catch some time with the first and second year students as well. I spoke with Penelope, Aphrodite, Snow White, Avril, Clemente, and The Child at some length while we were cleaning the gym in preparation for tomorrow’s ceremony. I think it’s good for me to spend time with them, because although they’re sad about the third years leaving, they’re also looking forward to becoming third year students themselves. It will be their year to shine, and this is a bunch that notoriously covets the spotlight.

My first years were functioning on a completely separate plane of existence today; although they’re interested in the graduation, they’re more focused on what teachers will be staying at the school for the next school year. The teachers themselves won’t know their assignments until Wednesday, and the students won’t be told until the 24th. I suspect that we won’t see a lot of teachers reassigned to other schools for this next year, but that’s just a theory. The first years were particularly concerned with my assignment, apparently unaware that I don’t get moved around from school to school like regular Japanese teachers. They were happy to know that I’d be staying for another year, and violently adamant that I was not allowed to leave after that.

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

So, I suppose what I’m trying to communicate via this long, winding post is that things are busy. Not wretched, confusing, or disheartening. Just …  overwhelming and taxing on all levels. I’m certainly not bored, and I suppose I should be grateful for that. Every day is challenging and I’m having to think fast and move even faster. I suppose these conditions are what makes it difficult for me to stop, reflect, and select one ripened, meaningful moment from the day.

But, I’ll muddle through somehow – that I have no doubt of. I’m not sure where we’ll be at the end of tomorrow, this week, this month, or goodness knows this year. But, that’s more or less the way that life goes, now isn’t it?

Even if you don’t wanna speak tonight
That’s all right, all right with me.

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