The Dangers of High School

Today I realized why the kids look at me strangely and laugh when they say “hello” and I reply with “hey”. “Hey” in Japanese is “fart”. So this whole time their view of the conversation is this:

Student: Here comes giant gaijin English teacher must say proper English greeting. “Herro!”
Giant Gaijin: “Fart!”

Castle in the Clouds

My school sits almost on top of one of the mountains that surround Hiroshima. The road to it is long and arduous, winding its way through the cluttered houses and the random rice field. It is two miles as the crow flies from my apartment but more like three miles with all the elevation. On the days it is overcast, the clouds almost touch the roof of the school.

The temperature is in the lower 90’s but with the humidity it feels like it is over a hundred. If I sit perfectly still the sweat trickles down my back instead of gushing. So of course my office is on the top floor without air conditioning. Every other room in the building has its own air conditioner but this one. The one benefit of being so high is the fantastic view of the city down below.

From my lofty perch I can look down onto the courtyard below and gaze upon the lily pad laden fountain, a replica of Rodin’s “Thinker”, and the tropical palms. Every now and then a mountain breeze will blow through the open halls and I can close my eyes and imagine I’m on some tropical beach. Then the breeze stops and my shirt instantly sticks to my back. Time to head back inside my office and sit in front of the fan.


The view from my office.


1/2 the School


The Courtyard

Rock Star

I have just finished my second day at work. I am a rock star. I walk down the hall and all the little Japanese school girls squeal with delight when I wave at them or say “hello”. All the boys wanting to test their might against the giant gaijin. The male teachers admiring my great strength and impressive size. The female teachers getting excited over my scratching a few kanji on a pad of paper. The old ladies that run the store keep telling me that I am so cute and that I bring them happiness. Yes, it feels like a charmed life.

Learning to Walk

Today was momentous day for the Meadows family; we opened a Japanese bank account by ourselves. Through the teller’s limited English and our limited Japanese we were able to navigate the perilous application paperwork and get our account.

I was very proud that were finally able to get something for ourselves without relying on a translator. It felt like we claimed a little control of our world; making the first steps to being functional adults in Japanese society.

I can see the path out of the woods and I know the steps I need to make to follow it; I just need to learn to walk.
Tomorrow our goal is to try and get internet set-up.

Freshman Orientation

The second day of “Get Japanese Language Use” (my title not theirs) is over. Now that I have figured out how to block out “Super Canadians Eh” the class is going pretty well. (“Super Canadians Eh” are two guys that are spending most of class showing the teacher how much more they know of Japanese than the rest of the class.) In the past two days we have covered advanced introductions, greeting and leaving phrases, and purchasing merchandise. All things I needed to brush up on.

The social scene is a little weird. The vibe was best summed up by Gail, “It feels like freshman orientation”. I keep waiting for my invitation to the frat kegger where the tri-delts are so going get naked and wrestle in pudding. (Which is what I saw my freshman year in college during rush week but that is a whole other journal entry for a time too far in the past.)

Sometimes I really feel like the outsider in already outside group. I’m married, older, and have no desire to get drunk off my ass; things all, that don’t seem to describe my compatriots. Perhaps I should throw a kegger and see if I can get some of the younger JETs to wrestle naked.

I’ll post pics if I get this to happen. ;)

"Joe, Please Don’t Forget Me!"

Today was the last day of the Akifuchu Senior High School English Summer Seminar. I’m very happy to be home sleeping on my own pile of futons once more but immensely sad to leave my first Japanese students behind at their school as I head back to mine.

We drove them like slaves; working with them from 7:30 in the morning until 10:00 at night. Every hour smashed with as much English as possible. Most of the students seemed to try so hard to absorb as much of it as possible. They worked so hard on each of the project set out before them and we tried our best to make them think creatively.

On the second day of the seminar the kids were given the task of writing, memorizing, and performing a skit in front of the entire assembly. The kids put on some pretty funny and creative skits. I was so proud when Yuka won the Best Supporting Actress Award at the end of the seminar.

I felt so content and fulfilled by the end of the seminar. Never once did I have to rewrite a power point presentation. (A little joke for my old co-workers.)

“Joe, please don’t forget me.”
Those departing words, shouted by Ryota, I will always hold dear.

Trash Day

We have finished up with the prefectural orientation and now Gail is sufficiently freaked about the bugs, mold, and trash sorting. You must be thinking, “trash sorting”? Unlike the states were the most an American might have to do when it comes to sorting rubbish is dividing the garbage from the recyclables. In Japan you have to separate your cast-offs into: “burnable trash” (kitchen waste, paper, whatnot), cardboard/newspaper, metal, PET plastic, recyclable plastic, and non-recyclable plastic. Your eyes are not fooling you, there are three different categories for plastic and as far as Gail is concerned I am the only one that can tell these three categories apart.

Did I mention that everything is picked up on a different day? There is no carting it all down to a dumpster and happily forgetting about it. You must store the trash until the appropriate day of the week, in its own individual wrapping.

A few maybe asking what happens if you just ignore the trash rules and throw things out willy-nilly? That very question was asked during orientation and the consequences are not what you think. One JET told a story of having their trash placed on their door step to be resorted; one had had her trash delivered to her at work. Japan, or at least Japan’s rubbish men, take their trash very seriously.

So, how have we fared? Our kitchen is nearly over-flowing as our fear of public trash humiliation keeps us paralyzed.

In Japan

We have been in Japan for a week and stolen internet is the sweetest of treats when you have been starved for the world outside of kanji.

Japan in a word: exhausting. I've basically been jogging a marathon in my wool suit for the past week as we go from ceremony to ceremony. I've probably lost twenty pounds between the food and the sweating. Hiroshima isn't just hot, its nuclear.

Saying Goodbye

Today is my last day in the US. The last 24 hours have been a torrent of emotions as Gail and I both realize the enormity of it all. I thought it would be easy to wave goodbye and all I would feel is excitement. Mostly I feel fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what I might miss, fear that I have made the wrong choice.

I also have hope. So I'll get on the plane today and sit in my tiny seat in coach for 14 hours. When I step off that plane tomorrow, I will begin a new life.