Speech Contests

English Recitation Contest: We Mean Business!

Working as an elementary/junior high school English teacher in Japan can be described as a low stress, high reward job. You get paid to basically be a foreigner, show up on time, and be silly with children. What’s not to love?

Yet sometimes, I find that this sort of work cycles between being totally awesome and fulfilling (I get paid to sing the alphabet and play tag at recess? Perfect!) and feeling like a total waste of time. When I have classes, it’s a great job. 

But more often than not, I have several days where I’m sort of desk-warming at the town hall's board of education office. 

Getting paid to do nothing might sound like every loafer’s dream. But for me, especially at the beginning of my time here, it felt sort of demoralizing. 

Everyone else has something to do, clacking busily away at their laptops, while I just have eight hours of sitting and finding clever ways to pass the time. It makes me feel like I’m a child at the office's “take your daughter to work” day.  Except that my parent is a bunch of Japanese office workers who I can't really communicate with. I just don’t feel very connected to anyone or anything.

However, when my students are practicing for the Junior High School English speech contest, these feelings are suddenly completely obliterated. 

Suddenly I’m a pronunciation expert, acting teacher, and general English master with appointments in my planner and reasons to stay late at work. All the teachers direct their questions to me. I edit speeches, teach kids the way that native English speakers enunciate and intonate their sentences, and I even get to choreograph their gestures. 

I’m suddenly useful! It’s a great feeling!

Last year, after months of practice together, one of my students, Yuta, received first prize in the Northern Miyazaki prefecture speech contest. He wrote a great speech about his homestay experience in Australia, and his pronunciation was so natural!

Yuta had clearly worked incredibly hard on mastering all the tips the teachers and I gave him, which was super rewarding to witness. 

After the Northern contest, he then went on to receive fourth prize in the Miyazaki-wide speech contest in the following month. The top three students in that contest go on to the nation-wide speech contest in Tokyo. He was so close to going to Tokyo!

He did an amazing job, and seeing one of my students succeed was one of the best moments of my professional life.

So that was last year. This year, in September, another one of my students, Masaya, received first prize again in the Northern Miyazaki prefecture recitation contest (which is basically the same contest, only you don't write your own speech). It was so exciting, and I totally felt like a champion teacher. 

I think Masaya was a little bummed that he won however, because his high school examinations were coming up rapidly. Suddenly he had to study for the Miyazaki wide speech contest and his tests at the same time. Poor stressed out middle school students! 

So, last Tuesday, one of my favorite co-teachers, Noma sensei, and I road tripped to Miyazaki City to watch Masaya perform his speech in the prefecture-wide contest. 

The Miyazaki City Cultural Center, where all the speech contest magic happens.

We chatted about non-school things: boyfriends, food allergies and rude people. She made me laugh like crazy! It was great to spend time with a teacher friend outside of school and just relax together.

Masaya did not place in the prefecture wide contest, which was a little disappointing, but I think he was happy to be done with the whole process.  His family came to watch him perform, which was very cute, and they were all so proud of him! Noma sensei and I congratulated him on a job well done, and then we went out for lunch.

A happy Noma sensei pictured with Chicken Nanban four ways. Yum!

When I was in the US, I feel like a work event like this might have been a little bit annoying to me (“I have to stay late at school? I have to sit through middle school students giving speeches? Ugh!”). But now I’ve just become so grateful to get to know the people I work with and the students I teach on a more personal level. 

I’m always surprised and delighted when I notice these little changes in perspective. Here’s to another year of figuring things out in Japan!

Cult-ure Festival?

When I was invited to Kadogawa Junior High School's culture festival, I didn't really know what to expect. I've never attended a culture festival in general, let alone in Japan.

When trying to envision what I might be in for, my brain brought up memories of my high school art shows: strange, technicolor paintings of nudes, wire sculptures of monsters with bananas for claws, ugly pottery fresh out the kiln. It was fun then, so I thought the Japanese version would be just as weird.

It was. Just in a different way.

Culture festival day. I sat on my knees on the gymnasium floor, scrunched up with approximately 200 other parents and their children, behind the teachers and students in uniform. There were no chairs, because I live in Japan. It reminded me of an indoor picnic mixed with a school assembly.

The main event consisted of watching my students perform speeches and sing songs, while a group of judges decided which of the classes was the most cultured. A difficult decision, considering that they were all junior high students. 

Judging twelve year old students on how cultured they are is like judging white bread on how spicy and bold its flavor is. It's just not practical.

But I digress. I hunkered down on the floor next to Inamura Sensei, a teacher I had worked with last year who had gone on maternity leave. She displayed her tiny, chubby, drooling baby for me, and I had about twenty minutes of pure joy when I would pinch her chubby cheeks and she would reciprocate with chubby smiles. The baby, not the teacher.

So far, culture festival seems pretty fun, right? Babies, indoor picnicking, spicy, bold flavors. It's everything I want out of a Sunday.

But then the singing starts.

The first graders (seventh graders in the U.S.) in class one come to the stage. The piano begins to play a jaunty tune. The kids begin to sing a lovely song about walking through the mountains on a summer day.

"Okay," I think to myself. "This is a fun little show. I can get into this. I'll have some nice traditional Japanese songs to hum throughout the day. I already feel more cultured."

The song finishes. The students leave the stage. The parents and I clap and nod approvingly to one another. 

The first graders in class two now come to the stage. The piano begins to play the same jaunty tune, and the students once again begin to sing the same song about the mountains and the summer day.

"Hmm..." I think to myself. "I guess that first performance was like a practice round, and now they're performing the song for real. Excellent, okay, yeah."

The song finishes. The students leave the stage again. The parents and I clap and nod approvingly to one another once again. We are in this together after all.

Class three. Jaunty tune. Mountains and summer day.

"Oh my god," I think. "Oh. My. God. They are going to sing the same song all damn day. Well, this is just first graders, right? Maybe we'll get a different song from the second graders. I guess I can listen to this five times without wanting to hit someone."

Cut to third graders, class five. Jaunty tune. Those awful mountains and that stupid summer day. 

I have counted. This song has been repeated fifteen times so far.

By this time, I have stopped thinking. The words in my brain have been replaced with Japanese song lyrics. I don't even understand most of them and yet they are there, repeating.

I have forgotten my past. I have forgotten my hopes and dreams. I am a robot, programmed to walk among the mountains and enjoy summer days.

When I finally leave the festival, and my soul returns to my body, I like to think that I feel a little more cultured than when I walked in.

But really I probably just have a new appreciation  for mountains and summer days. Too bad it's fall now.

Shimanami Kaido: Japan Cycling Adventures

After three weeks without internet (I forgot to pay my internet bill-- whoops), I'm finally back with updates about life in Japan! I've now almost finished my tenth month here, and honestly, time has gone so fast. It sometimes feels like I'm still a new ALT in Miyazaki-ken, but in a few months, the new JETs will start arriving here. Then I'm sure I'll feel like a veteran ex-pat. 

As for now though, I'm just sort of still trying to get used to living in Japan. Some days I feel like a English teacher champion. Some days I just feel like throwing up my hands and screaming, "why bother?! I don't know anything and I never will! GAHHH!" There are a lot of high highs and low lows. And sometimes, when things get overwhelming, you just have to go do something crazy. 

Like ride a bike 80km (50 miles) across six bridges and seven islands from one prefecture to another!

That's right! I did that!

I rode across the Shimanami Kaido cycling road from Hiroshima prefecture to Ehime for charity at the end of April! Hiroshima prefecture takes about 7 hours to reach by train, and though it was a lot of travel time for one weekend (I was ABSOLUTELY exhausted at work on Monday), it was probably one of the most fun adventures of my life.

I met a ton of JETs from Okayama, Shimane, and Hiroshima prefectures and we all completed the trip together, which was a great motivator for when my legs began to stop working. 

We all rented bicycles in Onomichi and boarded a ferry to begin our long bicycling journey.

My new friend, Dana, who I met on the train to Onomichi the night before. Dana and I completed the whole road together, cracking jokes the whole time! Nothing like harrowing physical exercise to make new friends!

This was the first of our six bridges, and riding across it felt like flying through the sky. The view was amazing. Islands, oceans, boats and cyclers as far as the eye could see.

 On the second island, we reached this happy fellow. I tried to climb up his tail but I didn't get very far.

 I also tried a strawberry daifuku, a mochi treat said to bring good luck! I'm not sure if that's true, but the strawberry, mochi and azuki combination did not disappoint.


Me and the gals, still going strong after only a few kilometers(Photo credit goes to Dana-- thanks!)!

Another grand bridge taunting us from the distance...

 ...as we take a quick break for water and snacks at the convenience store.

 Flowers and Dana looking fabulous as we begin to ride up to another bridge. The bridges were the worst! There were six of them, and before each one there was a giant hill just to get up to the same level as the bridge so you could cross it! My legs were on fire every time!

Dana and I stopped to take some really good jumping photos by this neat cloud house. There was a reason it took us 10 hours to finish...

At this point, my legs were about to fall off and my crotch felt like... well, I don't even know if I'm comfortable describing my crotch sensation on this blog. I feel like my grandparents might read this. So instead, I'll say, "hi grandparents! I love you! Cycling is tough on the old lady business."

Our "We finally finished this crazy journey and this bridge was insane and I'm so tired I'm going to die but I'm going to try not to look tired" face selfie! We finished!

I tried to take a ton of pictures documenting the whole experience from start to finish, but at some point I realized this was one of those "you had to be there" type experiences.

I don't know how I can begin to describe how incredible it felt to cross each of those bridges, or to eat tiny mikan oranges an old man gave us when we were very tired, or how much pain my legs and crotch were in. Seriously. So much pain.

But the endorphins made up for it, I suppose. I had never ridden a road bike before, and it was a thrilling experience. I'd love to do more events like this in the future.

As for now, I'll just try to get through another week of school. I caught a cold this weekend and it's keeping me from being a productive human. Ugh.

Until next time!

That Time When Lauren Did Judo

It started when Yamada Sensei* told me over school lunch that our students would be learning judo during PE class.

“Lauren, during PE today, the students will be learning judo—“

“I WANT TO TRY THAT!” I say excitedly, not fully knowing what judo is, but always ready for a new activity.

“Oh really?” he replies, with a horrified smile on his face. “I thought maybe you’d… er… want to watch. We have a guest teacher today and—“

“Can I please try it?” I plead. I’m not really thinking about why I want to try judo, only that the quote, “you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take” is flashing through my mind. It’s inspiring, heartfelt, and, because I have an irrational fear of missing out on anything that happens in my life, it is all I need to convince me that I must try judo.

Yamada sensei laughs stiffly and makes eye contact with the other teacher at the lunch table. She smiles and shrugs.

“Well… I’ll see if we can find you a uniform that fits,” he says obligingly.

I am ecstatic. I try and high five the student sitting across from me but she is staring at her bowl of rice and doesn’t see my hand. I high five myself.

An hour later, I am standing in the school gymnasium amongst a crowd of Japanese middle school students. I am wearing a stiff, off-white judo uniform. The pants and belt are both a little snug on me, so I constantly suck in my stomach, hoping that it won’t come undone. It does.

I re-tie it, while trying not to look conspicuous. However, all the teachers have come to watch the students perform, and as I am the only giant foreigner woman in their midst, it’s quite probable that my uniform debacle did not go unnoticed.

The visiting teacher is a tall, stern man, who looks like he could’ve been a sergeant in any country’s army. He’s wearing the same sort of stiff judo uniform, only his belt is black and tied tightly. The jacket is open around his chest. I can see a mass of chest hair, and a withered, old nipple when he bends the right way.

He shouts commands. The students respond quickly, falling into a line of perfectly timed small stretches that I have never seen before.

I don’t understand what’s happening so I just try and mirror the instructor, while trying really hard not to make eye contact with his nipple.

Bending over feels awkward as I am certain my judo uniform will come untied at any moment, so I bend as little as possible. I wonder if I will get a cramp.

The instructor shouts something new and all the students get into three perfectly straight lines. I follow them. After explaining some things in unintelligible Japanese, the students get into a lunge position, then start somersaulting across the floor.

It is then that I realize I have made a terrible mistake. Whatever judo is, I want no part in it.

I look over at all the teachers standing in the corner and Yamada sensei gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up. My eyes are terrified saucers.

I befriend another terrified looking student who appears equally horrified at the choice of activity for the day. When it is our turn to launch ourselves into this terrible activity, we give each other a little “good luck” nod and then catapult our awkward bodies on to the mat in front of us.

As I collapse into a strangely positioned heap, the principal runs over to me, and grabs my arm. I think he has come to help me up, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps I will not have to do any more somersaults.

He does not help me. The principal slams my arm roughly into the ground, shouting Japanese words I’ve never heard before. He then raises his camera and takes a picture of me, as I stare up at him like a scolded puppy.

I think that if there is a hell, there will probably be judo there.

Then our visiting drill sergeant tells us to get into a circle, so we all get up off the floor and stand to attention.

“Thank god,” I think to myself, “now that we’re done with that crazy nonsense, we can start doing actual judo.”

I imagine judo to be some sort of punching and kicking martial art, where we do high jumps and spin on our heads. Or something with swords.

Spoiler alert: Judo is wrestling.

Within the next five minutes, the instructor was holding me by my sleeve and jacket front, yanking me over his shoulders like a sack of meat while explaining something to my students that was, once again, completely unintelligible to me.

From the placement of my body high above his head, I deduced that instructor was training students to lift their wrestling partner in order to throw them to the ground.

I felt like a frog that had signed up for a fun day of splashing around in the pond, only to find out that the pond was actually a pot of boiling water in a French kitchen.

My eyes were bulging out of their sockets in pure fear, and the students stared at me with a mixture of horror and pity.

When he finally launched me back onto the ground, I fell with a thud, while the students all paired together to practice their new judo skills. My eye was still twitching in fright.

My horrified somersault student friend from before was the only student left when I finally stood back up, so she was paired with me.

I think this new development made her even more horrified, considering that now she had to practice wrestling her crazy foreign teacher who doesn’t have any idea what’s happening.

She walked over to me, and we smiled awkwardly at each other for a moment, acknowledging the weirdness.

In English, I say, “I have literally no idea what is happening. Can you tell me what is happening?” I don’t know why I do this because I know that she won’t understand, but I am embarrassed and confused.

For some reason, speaking my native language comforts me, as if to remind me that I’m actually really smart if only someone would speak English to me.

She sort of tilts her head and cringes, so I apologize in Japanese, telling her that we should do our best.

She nods and smiles encouragingly at me.

Then, grabbing onto my jacket sleeve and lapel, she attempts to pull me over her shoulder and throw me on the ground.

Considering that I probably have about fifty pounds on this girl, I didn’t really think it was going to happen.

As I looked down at her tiny noodle arms limply yanking my jacket, I noticed that on one of her feet she also only had four toes.

To get my mind off the judo that was happening all around me, I thought about the significance of only having four toes.

I thought about what it must feel like to try and hoist a woman twice your size over your shoulder when, perhaps, without the extra fifth toe, your balance is slightly askew.

I thought things like judo must be difficult for her. Perhaps that’s why she was so horrified about somersaults.

The instructor, apparently noticing this poor girl having trouble, came over to help her out.

My soul had left my body at this point, so I didn’t really notice.

He lifted me up over his head again, to demonstrate that anyone can lift a foreigner if they just try hard enough. From my new aerial perspective, I get a great bird’s eye view of his weird, hairy nipple.

He then throws me onto the mat like a hunter throwing a prize buck carcass into the back of his station wagon.
Gently, but with enough force to confirm that it is, in fact, dead.

At this point, the fifth period bell rang. The students bowed to each other and walked off the gym mat, leaving me lying on the floor alone, considering whether or not it was worth it to ever get back up.

Yamada sensei runs over to me to report that it was time for a water break.

“The students have another period of judo practice after this,” he told me, “but if you’d like, you can return home now.”

“YES I THINK I’VE HAD ENOUGH,” I say, though I can’t be certain whether or not my voice is at a reasonable volume. I quickly pull myself up to go thank the instructor, though for what, I am not sure.

He turns to me with a sort of smug “you’re not good at judo” look in his eye. I bow to him, and begin the mandatory thank you spiel that I give to everyone I meet. “ARIGATO GOZAIMASHITA. YOROSHIKU ONEGAI--”

I stop mid-thank you as the instructor reaches to my belt and reties it for me, pulling it tight around my already sucked in belly. He says many Japanese words that I have never heard before. I feel strange.

He nods to me, then turns away. I pray to God that this act does not mean I will have to endure another period of judo.

I decide to just cut my losses and get out of there.

As I walk past all the students drinking their cold green tea, laughing and joking about the fun they had practicing their favorite sport, judo (ugh!), my somersault buddy shouts to me in Japanese.

“Lauren sensei! Are you finished?” she says.

“Yes,” I say, in sort of a forced way. “Time to go home now.”

“Well, you’re very good at judo! Let’s do it again sometime!”

She runs back to her friends. I stand there, feeling totally silly.

“Maybe judo isn’t such a bad sport after all,” I think to myself. “Maybe if I just pushed myself a little harder, I could be a judo master!”

Then I remember the weird, weird nipple. I scurry out of the gymnasium as fast as possible.



*Names have been changed because this story is awkward.

Winter Travels Pt. 5: Bali Belly and Other Woes

Spring is here! The weather is warming up, the sky is clear, my bike ride in the morning doesn't make my eyes water from the frigid wind flying into my face. Everything is coming up Lauren!

Yet, I've still left the last leg of my winter travels un-blogged. I was backpacking around Taiwan and Okinawa for the first six days of this trip, but the final ten days I actually spent in Indonesia. 

However, it's taken some time for me to want to write about this part of the excursion. Honestly, though it was a total blessing to experience Bali with Bridget and her sister, Philippa (who are wonderful people and a total blast!), this leg of the trip was a big pile of existential confusion and dramatic internal emotions for me. 

Being away from my town in Japan for so long made me reconsider wanting to be an Assistant Language Teacher. Prior to coming to Bali, I had thought I definitely wanted to stay in Kadogawa at least another year, possibly two more years.

 Then, for some reason, after a week of changed scenery, I sort of thought to myself, "Is this really who I am? What I want to do with my life? Why am I learning Japanese when everything in my past said that I should study art/acting/music/yada yada yada?"

It freaked me out a lot.

Though we had a ton of weird and interesting adventures in Bali (seeing The Hobbit in Kuta Beach/ spending New Years' Eve salsa dancing to a live Cuban band in Ubud/ swimming in our infinity pool at midnight under the palm trees/ drinking 'chakra soda' at this totally adorable organic hippie cafe in the middle of nowhere), so much of it was overshadowed by me doubting my life choices, and thinking about the future.

I was crippled by anxiety, reading as many Kindle self-help books as I could and trying to figure out what I was supposed to do.

It was helpful that my travel buddy, Bridget, was also sort of going through the same crisis. We're both fresh out of college and teaching in small towns, so we had a lot to talk about. By the end of the trip, she sort of helped me decide that I wouldn't stay in my town, and instead, would move onto a new opportunity. I was over it. 

I was sick of being away from California. I missed Mexican food and doing improv comedy. I had a severe case of diarrhea and a fever from the food I had eaten on my last day in Indonesia. I didn't want to travel anymore. I wanted to go home, spend time with my family, and kiss my dog on the nose. I had made a firm decision not to stay, and I was ready to say my goodbyes to Japan.

However, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, as they say.

After returning to my life in Kadogawa, I changed my mind yet again.

My supervisor didn't ask me about whether or not I wanted to recontract for an entire month after I returned to Kadogawa. Within that time, I had a ton of great days at school with my students and teachers, and even more great experiences with my other ALT friends. I learned more Japanese, took up bouldering, started jogging every other day, and just generally began to enjoy my life situation more.

I think I had a lot of fear about not following my dreams of being an artist (whatever that means), and decided to move back to Los Angeles in a panic. I was afraid that what I was doing in Japan wasn't really what I should have been doing. 

I realized that in Japan, in this tiny fishing town, I'm learning so much about myself and about the world. I'm learning about what's important to me, and allowing myself the freedom to grow as a person. If I want to go back to LA eventually and study improv comedy or screenwriting or whatever it is I want to do, I can do that at any time. Now is the time to learn and breathe and discover myself outside the things I did as a sixteen year old. 

I'm only twenty two. I don't need to have it all figured out.

So for all those who were wondering about whether or not I'm staying in Japan, the answer is a resounding YES. No doubt about it. 

And I can thank Bali for that.

A Day in the Life of an ALT: Halloween Edition

Hey folks! Sorry for the inconsistent updates, but technology really hasn't been my friend lately, so I haven't exactly been on point with writing on here. Sorry about that! However, I got things sorted out recently, so there might be an influx of posts coming up soon. 

As for today's post, I thought I'd chronicle what a (sort of) normal school day is like for me, considering that the JET Program application deadline is coming up. If you want to work as an Assistant Language teacher in Japan, you should definitely submit an application. So far, it's been a very rewarding occupation for me. I know I was really curious about what a typical day as an ALT would be when I was applying, so I wrote about mine as I went along. Hope you enjoy it!

I wake up around 7:05 am. It's just starting to get a little chilly here so waking up is slowly becoming more and more difficult.  I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock.

I wake up around 7:15am. I browse tumblr on my phone and fall back to sleep.

I wake up around 7:30am. I jump out of bed promising that tomorrow I won’t snooze (though inevitably it will happen again). I punch the “go” button on my coffee maker, turn on my Japanese children’s television shows to play as I put on makeup, throw on some clothes, get my teaching supplies together (a scary Halloween mask, my flash drive, and Mickey Mouse stickers) and browse tumblr a bit more. Soon (not soon enough), I’m out the door.

If you're wondering what my sweet Halloween mask looks like...

I ride my bike to Kadogawa Junior High School, only five minutes away from my apartment. Scrambling to get inside before the bell rings, I toss my awesome nametag lanyard around my neck, and throw on my inside shoes, all the while waving and being generally adorkable to every student and staff member I meet. It’s just my way.

First period: It’s reading test day. I read a textbook excerpt about a nursery school teacher named Yuki aloud with the students. To try and make it more fun, I use weird voices. Sometimes the students will chuckle a bit. Sometimes students fall asleep.

Afterwards, students come to me individually and recite the excerpt again, without my help. I grade them (but as I’ve never really graded a reading test before, I think I go a little too easy on them).

Second period: Today is Halloween, so I start the lesson by asking students, “What’s the date today?”

“It’s October 31^st,” they say, yawning.

“IT’S HALLOWEEN!” I shriek, snapping my Halloween lion mask on and twirling around like an idiot. 

A student begins to clap, but then stops when no one else joins in. I scream, “YAY!”

After that, I teach them a Halloween tongue twister (“Creepy crawling critters crawl through creeping creaking crates”), we play some fun games involving Halloween monster worksheets and karuta, and then show them unflattering pictures of me as a student celebrating Halloween in America. All in all, it’s a pretty good time.

This is me as "a child who got dressed in the dark."

Here's a great costume: "girl in crazy pants."

 This is me as: "a scary rock musician with pink hair." Thank God I grew out of that phase, right?

Oh, I guess not...

Third period: I have a reading test with another class. This time, to compensate for my easiness in first period, I grade tests slightly harder, which is unfair. After I tell my senior teacher about my bias, and she seems unconcerned.

Fourth period: I have the same Halloween lesson with another class. It's fun and none of the students fall asleep this time.

Next is lunch time. I run downstairs to the teacher’s room, pick up my pink tray of food after proclaiming (in Japanese) to the school office workers, “Wow! This looks so good! Thank you! I’m hungry!” and run to one of the classrooms to eat lunch with the students.

Everyday, I eat school lunch with the students. The students, donning masks, scrubs and hairnets, serve school lunch for each other in Japan. Before anyone takes a bite, everyone has to have their meal in front of them. This is quite different than the run-to-the-lunch-cart-as-fast-as-possible-so-you-can-eat-first method that was implemented at my middle school. 

School lunch is great because I get a nice filling meal, although sometimes I am surprised by the ingredients (quail eggs? fingernail-sized shrimp? lotus root?) and I get to spend time with the students one on one and ask them about their lives. Usually, conversations go something like this:

Lauren: What do you do after school?

Student: *speaks a new Japanese phrase that Lauren hasn’t covered in her textbook*

Lauren: Wow cool!

I really get to know the students this way.

After that, it’s hiru yasumi (recess), where everyone goes outside and plays sports. I change into my outside clothes and jog out to the field as undigested quail eggs slosh around in my belly. 

Four girls with short hair are standing by a tree and chatting. I rush to join them.

Students (in English): Oh! Hello Lauren!

Lauren (in Japanese): Hello! What are you doing?

Students (in English): Hmm… What… do… you?

Lauren (in English): Dodgeball?

Students (in English): Oh yes! Ha okayyyy! Not soccer! Dodgeball! Yes!

One of my favorite students, a rambunctious second year who everyone calls, “Chibi Chibi Small Person” runs around the dirt field, dragging her foot to create a square. Chibi chibi small person has told me in the past that she doesn’t like English, yet I understand everything she says, and she does incredibly well in all my classes. “Court, I make,” she says. “Then we play dodgeball.”

After a few rounds of dodgeball, the bell rings and it’s time to return to school for cleaning time. Everyone will clean their classrooms together, something I love about Japan. I wish students cleaned their classrooms in America, because everything is just so much cleaner this way.

As we walk back to the building, Chibi Chibi Small Person turns to me.“Lauren sensei, did you enjoy?”

“Yes, I did.” I reply. “It is so fun!”

“Now I will go clean a toilet,” says Chibi Chibi Small Person, holding her nose with a grimace on her face. 

My love of cleaning time is apparently not shared by everyone.

During cleaning time, I choose a random classroom, take a broom out of the little classroom cleaning closet, and sweep the floor, while other students wipe down the floor with damp rags, smack erasers together, or do other general cleaning tasks. As I clean, I like to imagine I am Cinderella. Not that it's important to my day or anything. That's just a fun fact about me.

The bell chimes for the beginning of fifth period. On this particular day, I only have four classes scheduled, so I say goodbye to the students and teachers, pick up my things from the teacher's room, and bike back to the town hall. I have a desk there where I sit and plan lessons or study Japanese when I don't have any more classes for the day. 

At four thirty, I pick up my things again, bellow a hearty "You look tired, good work today!" sort of day-ending greeting (which is returned by the other folks who work in my department), and bike home.

I enjoy my days as a Kadogawa Assistant Language Teacher. As my predecessor put it, it's a "low stress, high reward" sort of position. I feel like I'm really getting to know the students and the community, which is really a cool feeling. I hope to keep improving my Japanese though, as I'm pretty sure I should understand more things than I do at the moment.

Little by little!