Supplies!

Yesterday, I was at Toyotama, and there was another somber announcement during the morning meeting. Like back in January, the dean of students, Komatsu-sensei, stood after the normal announcements had been made, and delivered a very grave account of what had happened. I understood even less than last time, and there was no accompanying documentation for this incident, so I was at a complete loss until I asked Iwase-sensei afterwards.

She told me that a high school student used his cell phone's internet access to buy something. That's how she said it. I don't know about you, but my thinking, based on her phrasing, led me to believe that by saying "something" she was being intentionally vague. I figured the kid bought a dirty magazine, alcohol, or cigarettes.

Iwase clarified, though: we're not sure what exactly he bought, and that wasn't the important part. He did this off school property, not during school hours, and he bought nothing illegal. Furthermore, someone else apparently paid him the money to buy it. The impression I got was that what he bought wasn't the problem. That he bought something at all was the trouble.

Sometimes I think I'll never understand Japan.

--

Anyway, that was yesterday. Today, being Friday, we had English club. I headed up to the classroom toting my three Dr. Seuss books, planning to give the girls a basic rundown of rhyming in English. I rounded the corner to enter the room... and saw Mizuki, Manami, and Sawami sitting right where they used to, grinning at me.

After having said goodbye not even a week before, thinking I'd never get to see them again, I was floored by the sight of them. They were in their uniforms and, apart from the makeup Manami was wearing that would have been against the rules when they were students, looked exactly the same as the first day I joined the English Club.

I talked to all three of them in English, asking them questions for the benefit of the second- and first-years. I asked what they've been doing, which university they want to get into, and how the tests were. Mizuki and Manami answered my questions without even hesitating, which didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was Sawami: whereas eight months prior she would have immediately tugged on Mizuki's sleeve for a translation, she diligently if slowly processed my question and answered in English. I felt like hugging her.

They wanted to know what I'd brought, so I did a quick show-and-tell of the books, followed by a brief explanation of red-said-bed-led rhyming. It went fine--not great, not horribly, but fine--and as I was writing on the board and explaining, I behaved like I always do: I bounced around and made sound effects, most of the time without thinking about doing it. While the first- and second-years took it in with faint, bemused smiles on their faces, the graduates got a kick out of it. Having survived eight months of grueling exam preparation, without any of my everyday goofiness, they were supremely relaxed and a whole lot more sure of themselves.

I then asked what everyone wanted to do. The first- and second-years shrugged, as per usual. Mizuki and Manami said anything was okay. When I turned to Sawami, she reached in her bag, pulled out the frisbee I gave her, and smiled. I felt like hugging her.

We headed for the small park we use, only to find it was being used by the badminton club. Determined not to go back inside, we strolled around the school for a while, talking in small groups. I soon stopped trying to take charge and find something for everyone to do, noticing that everyone seemed perfectly content catching up with each other.

After an hour or so, we headed back up to the classroom. Sawami, Manami, and Mizuki said goodbye, and the rest of us broke for the day soon after.





I'm a weenie. I freely admit this. I get all choked up over the stupidest, cheesiest sentimental things. Seeing those three again moved me. I dislike using such a tired expression, but that describes it perfectly. My greatest fear (both as a person and, more specifically, as a teacher) is of being forgotten. I know that reflects some deep-seated insecurity issues I've got, but there it is. I don't presume that the girls came back for the express purpose of seeing me, but the fact that they dropped by to see me nearly made me cry. This is precisely the kind of bond that I've dreamed of establishing with students, and I was thrilled to finally find it.

As one might expect, this was the closest I've come to second-guessing my decision not to recontract.