soaring sights and swimming through sasa

You're swimming through a dense undergrowth of bamboo brush that covers the forest floor. Climbing up the steep slope, you reach forward, brushing 6ft tall stalks out of the way, and then grab a handful and pull yourself onward as your arm completes the stroke. You as much feel the path ahead of you as see it.
When the bamboo thins, or clears temporarily, you look as far as the eye can see from the mountain ridge you are traversing. Hills and mountains extend to the misty horizon. You keep walking.
All around silent birch trees reach out of the brush, the last of their leaves shed for the season, their white bark gleaming in the sun. They thrive in this climate, and at this elevation, but their sparse branches and characteristic shredding bark make the silent scene seem more like a graveyard where the dead don't lie down, but stand and watch you passively, season after season.
After a gruelling ascent that allowed no glimpse of its summit, you emerge onto a clear peak, with a full panorama to reward your eyes, now sick of swimming through sasa. In the distant, Mt. Fuji's smaller twin, Yote, Fuji of the North, climbs up from its cloudy foundations, an impossible trapezoid reaching into the sky. Undulating hills and thrusting peaks surround a meandering valley that opens onto the Ishikara plain, where Sapporo sprawls. Looking around you know that the only place you have to be, is right here.

We started the hike Saturday morning, crossing just 6km's the first day, to find an amazing little hideway. An incredible two-floor wood cabin nestles in the bush, on the edge of a pristine little pond. Expecting a ten-foot shack which we would share with the squirrels, we were surprised to discover that a caretaker was keeping the cabin warm with a fire. My two friends and I passed the evening talking, having tea, doing some yoga, and most of all enjoying the stunning colours and thick silence of the forest - broken only later that evening by the caretaker's radio announcing the Fighter's win. It is baseball playoffs, after all.

The next morning, at 630 - when he heard us stirring - the caretaker came up from downstairs carrying a breakfast of mizo soup and hardboiled eggs for the three of us. This is in a little cabin in the woods where people can just pop in randomly and stay the night. This is Japanese hospitality.

Sunday was the real trek. On and off for around 23km's that day, with our big hiking backpacks in tow, we were swimming through that bamboo and crossing a slanting trail across the hilly ridge that was more slippery for the mud, decaying leaves, and bamboo stalks that made every step slightly precarious. My friend came out of it bruised and bleeding slightly from a dozen scratches across her legs. Luck and my hairy legs protected me, and I was left only with the wondrous feeling of trusting that the path I followed would lead me through the obscuring and enclosing brush.

At a hut near the other end of the trail, we stopped to chat with the caretaker. He was just heading home at the end of the weekend, so he offered us a ride - without us even asking, or saying where we were going yet. We hiked the remainder of the trail with him, and the three of us piled into his little sedan with our giant bags taking up ay available space.

He dropped us off in Jozankei - the closest onsen town to Sapporo - and we were quick to hop in the hot water in the bowels of a ritzy hotel. Hot water never felt so good, as when I stretched my legs out and gazed up at the brightening stars, and chatted with my friend about living in Japan.

Back in Sapporo later that evening, the three of us had tastey soba and tempura, and a nice cup of tea, at a quaint restaurant near our building, before saying farewell for the night.

Sunday night is my weekly scheduled phone chat with my mom, but I was just too tired to talk. I was exhausted from head to toe.

It felt great.

real japanese people, yay

I'm sorry I left that last post on top for so long - what negativity and frustration I expressed! How can I be unhappy, with Nakagima-koen turning golden yellow and red. And so much has happened since last monday, how can I not smile in pleasant exhaustion.

I'm going to just summarize my week, cause it's been a pretty good one.

Monday after work I went to a used CD shop and asked for advice finding some music I would like. I got some Japanese folkish rock from the 1970's and some more recent softish rock: both not bad. The man was happy to try and find some good music, even if we only had so many words that we both could understand.
Then I went into a little cafe where I go every Monday, and I am forcing the owner to accept me as a regular. I have a spot where I sit and study, and we chat in a mix of english and japanese. Last week she kindly made me some vegetarian spaghetti for dinner.
Then I went to my weekly japanese lesson. I am excited, because I think the lessons are just about to get useful. They have been very slow moving so far, but I am starting to increase my vocabulary and the grammar we learn is starting to get more complex, so that slowly I am able to actually formulate sentences in regular conversation, though they make sense far less than half the time.

Tuesday was a short work day because we had a district-wide meeting of english teachers, observing a class and discussing its merrits. I had no idea what was said over the course of the meeting, but when my turn to contribute came around, I managed to say the correct formalities and surprise everybody by thanking the presenters for their teaching. Woot. I only had a little bit of trouble staying awake over the two hour meeting. So far, in most meetings, I have been one of the few people who DOES stay awake through the entire meeting. I figure that's fair, the rookie has to stay awake and the vets have earned the right for a little snooze here and there.
Even better, that night 6 teachers and 2 ALT's went to a classy Japanese restaurant for drinks and dinner. It was the perfect mix, because they knew lots of English, and yet were still kind enough to be amused by our incoherent efforts in Japanese. We ate some sashimi and sushi, and tomago yori, umaboshi, tofu habe, and susumi, or something, as well as other stuff. Multiple courses and samplings are the norm here. I can't remember what all the names were, and what everything was, but it was good!

Wednesday I left the office at 330 and went out to the soccer field. I kicked the soccer ball around for an hour by myself, doing some drills, and just goofing around. I get so sick of not having anything to do, but I've been there the whole time, and if they had something I could do for them, all they had to do was ask. So, I figure I might as well go and kick the ball around. When the kids came out at 430, I played with them for 530, just passing the ball and not worrying about speaking English, or speaking at all. It was nice.
Wednesday night was the only night this week I spent any time at home.

Thursday I saw two friends, and we chatted for a couple hours about fantasy books and american politics. Basically, they inform me, Terry Pratchet is amazing, and Bush is a scary dictator. There are so many ALT's here, it is easy to let time slip by and not see an individual for a while. It is great to have such an accessible network of basically instant friends, but the tricky part is maintaining ties with people as individuals, respecting them and putting the time into seeing them, and not just taking their presence here for granted.

Friday was a good day. My school's Chorus Contest was Friday morning, held at a beautiful music hall, Kitara, in the beautiful Nakagima-Koen. The music teacher says it is the fifth best music hall in the world, and I wouldn't presume to argue. I can't quite describe the whole event of the music contest, only: did I mention these kids are amazing? Every class has its own song, student conducted with four-part harmonies, accompanied by a student on piano. For the most part, practice was self-directed and corrected by the students, with occasional check-ups by teachers. Every day for a month or so, the kids have been working before and after school on their songs. On Friday morning, before filing into the theatre, after practicing their songs one last time, each class did a group huddle and a rev-up cheer. Again, the teachers just stood back and watched the kids at work. Every single student of the 750 got up on the stage, in front of maybe 1100 people in the audience, and contributed to their class song. They all tried as hard as they could to sing in harmony with the others. Each grade chose increasingly difficult songs, with the grade 9's involving changes of rhythm, solos, difficult harmonies, accapella, discordant harmonies, if there's such a thing, and lots of other technically hard stuff that I don't even understand. They performed incredibly. When the winners of the 9th grade were announced, a class that is always exceedingly friendly and chatty with me, I couldn't help but be touched by their shouts of joys and excited hugging and jumping. They work so hard, these kids, and they do some amazing things.

That evening, the teachers had an enkai to celebrate. I was so happy to see them all so bubbly and energetic. They could barely contain their happiness, it seem. Again I tried a bunch of things I've never eaten before, and it was all tasty. They were finally relaxed enough, it seemed, to have a few laughs at my expense, which really helped me feel included. They also assisted me with some new Japanese and were ever so congratulatory when I made anything resembling a sentence. My favourite quote was when I said (again) that I am from Vancouver, and the music teacher said "Oompaloompa?" I talked to many teachers, and it was so nice to share ever so slightly in their joy and triumph after the chorus contest.
After dinner, I joined a smaller group of teachers for the nijikai - the second party. Ten of us went to a little jazz bar in a basement somewhere, with a baby grand piano and an awesome middle-aged singer who sang jazzed versions of thirty and forty year old english songs. I learned more important vocabulary, like how to say 'drunk', and enjoyed every single time the teachers laughed at me or with me.

Saturday and Sunday were so amazing, I have to save them for a next post. I'm exhuasted and I need a snack before getting to bed early.

Dear Diary: no class whine

(Disclaimer: This is an 'in the moment' rant written at work. The emotions expressed herein are indicative of a continued development in my life, yes, but they are not all-consuming of my life or thoughts or energies. If you don't want to hear me rant about my mood and perception of uselessness, then please don't read this post. On the other hand, I think it's written pretty well, so please read this post.)

It’s only slightly frustrating being a deadweight.

I got to work this morning actually excited to start my day. On Friday and the weekend, I had made the worksheet activity for my first class Monday morning, the same lesson to be repeated about 5 times throughout the next several school days. I was excited because I had a hint of the feeling that I could be an active participant in this whole ‘being an educator’ thing.

I made one worksheet last week that didn’t teach the grammar-point perfectly due to over-complexity and several formatting errors. It didn’t matter too much to me, though, because the kids had a fun time. Whether the activity today worked perfectly or not wouldn’t have mattered, either. What matters to me, after the kids having a bit of fun, is that I can learn to make lessons and activities that do work: I want to learn to contribute, learn to teach. Otherwise I will continue to feel as I have largely felt so far: like deadweight that the other teachers drag to class with them.

Well, I rushed to work this morning so I would have time to photocopy the worksheet. My shirt was still wrinkled and wet from yesterday’s wash. My rice and veggies were still cooking in the rice cooker, so I didn’t bring a lunch with me. I stuffed my stuff in my bag and walked out the door.

After my usual walk, subway, bus routine, by the time I was walking into the office, I had gotten over my nervousness and was only excited to try out the worksheet. However, as I opened the office door, an exiting teacher informed me hurriedly that my co-teacher for the class was ill and absent today. Another teacher would direct the class to work on preassigned materials and – unequivocally – there would be no need to team-teach the class.

Though I sidestepped personal offence at being so irrefutably dismissed, I wasn’t able to avoid the disappointment that followed my sudden uselessness. Suddenly, I had only one class scheduled for the day, in which I might speak five or ten sentences to the class. When I offered another teacher to help, on anything whatsoever, she politely and unhesitatingly declined. Just like last Thursday, when I knew the teachers would be there till 7 or 8pm marking English tests, and they still declined my offer to help, as I walked out the door at 5. Things like that make me feel moderately useless and unwanted, deadweight.

Now, I don’t define the worth of my whole existence on whether or not I can help mark tests, or whether I have one or two or three classes. And I don’t greatly desire remaining at work every day until 7 (or 8 or 10pm). Yet, a large part of my time every week is taken up pretending to be a teacher, and if you are what you do that creates an obvious potential for me to define my identity at least partly by that role. And so there is a tremor of cognitive dissonance when I am trying to define myself as a teacher, and all I feel like is a deadweight foreign-speaking clown who sits in the office and works on his meagre nihongo memorization every day.

As trivial as it might sound, and though friends who disdain work might disdain the following comment, I think I would be more at ease at work and happier with myself if I had a steady 3 or 4 classes a day. I think I would be happier if I was asked to contribute an activity or lesson idea with some regularity.

Life truly is unnerving for a public servant who is not serving. I think this is something you can only understand after coming to work for two months, having only one or two hours of constructive work each day, not being asked to help or contribute to anything else going on, and, what makes it all the harder, not being able to communicate at will with coworkers and alleviate these frustrations.

I have expressed that I would like to help more, learn to contribute more, and I am willing to work more. Usually they politely thank me, and we move on in the same fashion. It would be inappropriate to speak to them of my frustration, or even convey by my words or intonation or body language much negative emotion at all. This is hard, because I tend to function normally with my frustrations just behind the lines on my face and subtly worked into the stitching on my sleeve.

Now, my ‘constructive’ time is not entirely limited to the classroom. Before and after school, and in between classes, I roam the halls and chat with the kids. This might sound like, well, roaming, the opposite of hard work. Believe me, it is work. It takes not a small amount of creativity to think of something that will interest the kids, and make the effort of communicating worthwhile. And it truly is an effort. Sustained communication with such varying levels of comprehension can be extremely taxing and energy sapping. At times, I love it. And when we manage to successfully communicate on any topic at all, I am thrilled. Still, it is definitely tiring.

As I might have mentioned, I also eat lunch with the kids every day. I try to engage with the kids, but I definitely don’t demand that they talk. I feel this is a productive time even if we only manage to fit in five mutually intelligible sentences.

Other than that, the kids are in class or busy with activities every minute of the day, which means my raison d’etre ici, engaging with the kids, is unrealised for the vast majority of the minutes of the day.

I just don’t feel like I am worth the yen thrown my way, if this is all I do. More importantly, I don’t feel I am learning or being challenged as much as possible (or sometimes, at all). If I have a couple classes one day, and also chat with kids between every class, I will probably be exhausted by the end of the day. Even then, I’ll only feel fulfilled if I can actively contribute to the classes and feel useful to the other teachers, as well as engaging with the kids. If I have one class, and don’t see the kids that much, and feel like a deadweight carried by the staff, well, I just don’t feel like there’s much good in me being here.

Ok, I know: Patience!! I have told myself before that it takes time to become part of a team, especially when you don’t speak the same language. And I know it is my first teaching job, so I have to learn how to fit in with other teachers, and learn how to make useful and enjoyable lesson plans. And friends have wisely counselled me to shift my mindset, and enjoy the opportunity I have been given here. I get paid to interact with kids of a different culture, possibly expanding their purview as well as learning from them myself. And, even better, I get paid to spend a good amount of time each day working on my own interests, and refreshing my energy in my breaks. Said like that, it sounds like a pretty good deal. So, as overworked ALT friends at other schools have suggested, I should just enjoy the free time I’ve got while I’ve got it.