Anyway, I was relishing waking up when, at about 9, the doorbell rang. I made no effort to get out of bed, intent on conveying to what I presumed was a Jehovah's witness or cleaning service salesman that I wasn't interested, thank you very much. After five seconds, the doorbell rang again. That's kind of strange: usually the only people who ring twice are people who know me. That means it's probably important, so I reluctantly began peeling the covers back. Before I could sit up, though, I heard the door open.
I lock my door when I leave, but not when I'm home. To anyone reading this from America, this sounds crazy, I know. I'm in rural Japan, though, where students routinely leave backpacks and coats sitting outside supermarkets with no fear of theft. I sleep like a rock, so someone could likely sneak in and rob me blind without my noticing, but I don't let that bother me.
However, as I was already getting out of bed, and was in my non-winter pajamas (boxers), this kind of startled me. It turned out to be Takahira, one of the English teachers at Tsushima High. After only a brief, rushed "sorry to bother you," he asked me if I could move my car. No further preamble--no "good morning" or "Smoltz really should have stayed with the Braves" or "you sure are hairy"--just that request. I tossed on some clothes and headed down the stairs to move.
Kamito-sensei was moving that morning. As you might imagine, moving from an island is a bit trickier logistically than moving overland. Unlike ALTs, regular teachers are responsible for furnishing their own apartments, which means they need the equivalent of a U-Haul. That means Kamito rented a cargo container (which ran about ¥100,000, or $1,000), which was brought in on a big truck. That's why I needed to move.
Like a groggy ant nest, most of the folks in my apartment building got up and moving. We were soon joined by the kyūdō club, of which Kamito was the head. About fifteen of them showed up on a Sunday to help carry boxes. This was amazing, as moving all that stuff down the three flights of stairs to Kamito's apartment would not have been fun for a woman as tiny as she is. We set up fire-brigade style, and had her apartment completely empty inside fifteen minutes.
That done, Kamito thanked all of us profusely, and skittered off to run some last-minute errands. She was leaving by plane that afternoon. The kyuudo kids headed up to school for practice, while the other teachers and I went home for a few minutes' break.
We were back outside at 10 to help Satomi move. She had been part of the tennis club, so about thirty of them showed up. Also joining the ranks was a guy I only later learned was Satomi's husband, who came all the way from Tokyo to help. Just as with Kamito, we had Satomi moved out in about twenty minutes. (It took a bit longer on account of her living on the fourth floor.) Toward the end, the guys took over the lifting, while the girls formed a ten-person cleaning crew, helping dust, sweep, and mop Satomi's apartment.
After getting everything packed up, Satomi came by to thank me personally. She asked me to come upstairs for a picture of the two of us. Her husband took one of us on the balcony, with a backdrop of just-barely-blooming sakura.
I chilled out some and had brunch before heading up to the airport. It was chilly--probably in the low teens--with a cold drizzle. I wasn't surprised to find teachers there to say goodbye. (On a completely random note, I was happy to find out that Matsushita, one of the strictest-looking P.E. coaches I've ever seen, has "The Imperial March" as his ringtone.) What did surprise me, though, was all the students. Kamito had been the head of the 1-4 class (with me nominally backing her up), and about half of them showed up. They bunched together to give a goodbye speech for Kamito, and there was lots of bowing and thank-yous. We teachers said our goodbyes individually, and Fujimatsu gave a yell right in the middle of the terminal. When the time came, everyone waved as Kamito went through security to the boarding lounge.We all filed outside to the fence beside the terminal. With a clear view of the runway and the plane (Tsushima Airport is only served by two airlines, running a
combined 6-8 flights a day), we watched and waited as the plane taxied. Neither knowing nor caring if Kamito was on the side of the plane with a window looking out at us, we all stood in the rain and waved as it took off.The other teachers and I then shuffled back to Izuhara to see Satomi off. The ferry port was bustling, as apparently several schools' teachers were leaving at the same time. I met most of the Toyotama staff, there to bid farewell to Kondo, a cool guy I never got to know very well. I briefly met Fukuda, one of the new Tsushima High English teachers, but I was too distracted to pay much attention.
Teachers and students from several schools gathered along the wharf to wave. The departing teachers stood along the deck waving back at us. Each school did its own goodbye cheer: most gave a "banzai!" and some gave yells. We sang the school song. Everyone, though, had streamers: the departing folks held one end
and tossed the roll to us. We then held the roll. As the boat departed, the streamers unrolled, providing a wonderfully symbolic reminder of the ties they'll always have here.Not long after, I was heading back up toward the airport. I passed some kids walking along the road, and recognized them as my students. Not only were they my students, but they had been at the airport to see Kamito off. They had walked all the way to the airport, and were walking all the way back, in a cold rain.
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