Post-graduation farewells

I wanted to give Mizuki, Manami, and Sawami a graduation present, since in all likelihood I'd never get to see them again. I'm normally terrible at finding gifts for people, but this time I'm actually kind of proud of how it turned out. I made a card for all three of them, and gave it to them along with something else.

Manami was the first student I ever interacted with one-on-one. The second week of classes last September, Takahira-sensei asked me to help a student prepare for the upcoming English speech contest. We worked together for about an hour a day, three afternoons a week, for about two weeks. I had no idea when the contest was, or how much practice she'd had before I came along, so I wasn't able to help her all that much. Still and all, those afternoons working together went a long way toward helping her open up to me. She was terribly intelligent, and every bit as shy, but she didn't have any trouble speaking up in English Club.

Last spring, well before the third-years left the group, I brought a chessboard to the club meeting one day. Manami was the only one who expressed even the slightest interest in it. I set the game up, and through a combination of my poor Japanese, gestures of piece movement, and her admirable English, she learned the game well enough for us to play. We only played once, and I didn't quite have the presence of mind to teach her en passant, but she understood the concepts enough to finish a game. That in mind, I bought her a chess set. It wasn't very expensive--a plastic, non-magnetic, travel-sized version--but I didn't want to get her something bulky to tote off to college, and besides, it was the exact same chess set she learned on. I figured that would count for something.

Mizuki was the head of the English Club my first year in Tsushima. She was more helpful to me than Takahira-sensei, the nominal faculty head of the group, who told me the bare details of the club on the first day--"we meet on Mondays and Fridays, but if it's okay, I would like for you to take care of the group by yourself"--and never appeared again. I was completely lost, and had to lean heavily on Mizuki for ideas on what to do. Still, most of the first few months' meetings were filled with idle smalltalk. Her intelligence, bounciness, and lack of shyness kept the club from being a complete wash.

I thought long and hard on what to give her. I wanted it to be something nice, in appreciation for all that she did to help the rest of the club warm up to me. Having remembered from my predecessor that she, like most Japanese high schoolers, loves Harry Potter, I had bought a Japanese copy of Deathly Hallows when it first came out last July. However, I found out (without tipping my hand) that she had no free time whatsoever to do any leisure reading until after graduation, so I had kept it hidden away since.

Sawami was in the lower part of the academic program, not for lack of ability, but by choice: she wanted to enter the police force, a field that requires passing a civil service entrance exam. That meant her English was never as good as Mizuki's or Manami's. In fact, she spent most of our meetings avoiding speaking English, using Mizuki to translate for her. Toward the end of each meeting, as my often-shoddy plan for the day petered out, she would start urging us to call it a day. All this made me think for a long time that she disliked either me or English.

Last spring, soon after the new first-years--Yuki, Aya, and Nozomi--had joined, we went outside to throw the frisbee. We did this partly at Sawami's request, as she liked frisbee and wanted to go outside and enjoy the weather. We had a blast throwing, and it made a great icebreaker for the new girls, just like it did for us in Myers. As we were heading in, though, I stupidly decided to try throwing a hammer. It came out just fine, and flew nice and long... and right into a tall hedge.

I could see that it was reachable, but getting to it would require squeezing between the branches. I was wearing my usual dress shirt and slacks, so I decided to come back later in jeans. Sawami, though, clad in her full uniform--blouse, blazer, skirt, and dress shoes--dove right into the hedge. After five minutes of grunting and swearing, she got it. Nobody had asked her to do it; in fact, I told her repeatedly that it was no problem, that I would come back and get it later. She thought nothing of it, though. Her uniform came out intact, and she didn't act like it was that big a deal. From that day on, we got along a lot better. I immediately knew what her present would be.

I wasn't sure what chance if any I would have to see them after the ceremony, so I came to school early and went straight up to the third-year classrooms. Manami was the only one I could find, so I gave her hers. She smiled big and bright and thanked me. I didn't get to see Sawami or Mizuki before the ceremony.

After the graduates' last homeroom, the rest of the students and faculty line the path from the school doors to the street, and cheer as the graduates depart school for the last time. Students give the graduates flowers and other gifts as they pass by. I found last year's Korean teacher, also named Kim, who had come back just for graduation. We were toward the end of the line, so it took the graduates a long time to reach us.

One student gave Kamito-sensei a CD with pictures from classes together. She was visibly delighted, and her way of expressing this was to say "Ureshii!" which literally means "(I'm) happy!" I applauded all the graduates that trickled past, and two of my former commercial-program girls took a picture with me. After a while, I began to worry that I'd missed Mizuki and Sawami, so I began heading up through the crowd toward the front of the group.

The brass band was playing as graduates said goodbyes to underclassmen friends from club activities. Some of them gave each other hugs, marking the second time in 18 months I've seen Japanese over the age of 10 give such physical displays of affection. I found among the crowd the other English club girls, who were giving their gifts to Mizuki and Sawami. I gave them their cards and gifts, which had been sort of wrapped. As they opened them, they smiled, which was about as much of a reaction as I'd expected. They both thanked me, I made sure Mizuki hadn't already gotten a copy of the book, and I made sure to get a picture.

They weren't audibly or visibly overjoyed. They didn't squeal with glee or give me a hug or any other response I might have hoped for had they been westerners. I was fully expecting a happy, genuine, yet appropriately distanced thank you, which was what I got.