Midwinter Spring

"Midwinter Spring is it's own season"

-T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"     

     Spring hasn't quite sprung in the Kanto area yet, but plum blossoms are beginning to paint color back into the landscape here in Narita.  They contrast with the last vestiges of autumn that still cling to life on some of the pine trees.  The weather is taking a turn for the warmer, too.  The days are no longer hanging near the freezing mark.  And the sun's path across the sky is growing a little longer each day.
     It seems that these changes echo my own life in some ways.  This weekend was my last full weekend in Japan.  It seems the past two months have flown by!  And while I look forward to a full-time teaching job in the near future, I feel myself wishing I could put off that future for a little while longer and spend more time here, in Japan.
     In the last few weeks, I've had the chance to meet so many people- and I long for more time with them.  Through the school I've been going to after the school day is over, I've met some really great people.  Last weekend, I had dinner with a woman and her husband, which was a great time.  Mayumi-san and Hideo-san are very opposite in their character and interests.  I have enjoyed shopping with Mayumi-san and loved talking about Japanese history with Hideo-san.  He reminded me of why I like studying other cultures.  During our drive home from dinner, we talked about the history of Japan after the Edo period, when Japan opened itself to the world.  He wanted to explain to me why Japanese people work so much- a tradition he believes stems from earlier religious beliefs and practices.  He wanted to delve into the subject, and even though I learned more about Japanese culture from the conversation, he felt he did a poor job in his explanation because of his limits in English.  "I could explain it so easily in Japanese," he said, "but I can't in English.  That's why I'm studying more, so I can tell people."  While he felt unable to fully explain it to me, I still feel I understand a little bit more about the way Japanese people think, thanks to him.
     And Mayumi-san introduced me to her friend, Eiko-san.  Eiko-san is a kind, sometimes quiet woman whose cooking is delicious!  I met her and her two children for dinner- she took me to the supermarket and explained to me some of the different fishes and other ingredients used for Sushi.  She made sushi-rice and we all rolled our own sushi with whatever we wanted.  She led me to ask students all week, "What's your favorite kind of Sushi?"  I can now tell you that I don't like maguro, or plain tuna sashimi.  I should explain- sashimi is the word for raw fish.  Sushi often includes sashimi, but it doesn't have to.  So, I don't like maguro, but I really like sake (salmon sashimi) sushi and ikura (salmon egg) sushi.  Eiko-san and her two children and I went out together for sushi this weekend, and I realized that sushi is a general term for many dishes that all have vinegared rice and almost always have sashimi or nori (seaweed) or both.  However, they don't always look the same, and they definitely don't taste the same-especially if the sushi doesn't have seaweed!  This weekend, I learned that I also like uni, a sea urchin.  I don't know when I developed a taste for such wild cuisine!  Traveling in Asia has definitely widened my food horizons!  I also realized I prefer my sushi to be of the hand-pressed type with seaweed on the outside.  Such were my adventures in eating, thanks to Eiko-san.  But Eiko is also more than a cook.  She's been able to tell me about Japanese traditions and even let me try on a summer version of a kimono!  I feel so blessed to have met her and her family, and I long to have more time to spend with them.
     I also enjoyed a lesson in the Koto this week, a traditional Japanese instrument that sits on the floor with 13 strings over a wooden, hollowed body.  The strings are placed over the box like the strings on a guitar.  It was a challenge to play.  Not only did I have to play with a specific hand motion, but I had to read the music, and it wasn't on a staff and there were no notes- only kanji (Chinese characters) numbers corresponding to the strings on the guitar.  Talk about difficult!  I had to remember the 13 kanji just to know which note I was supposed to be playing!  I enjoyed it, though!
     I also said "sayounara" to two more schools, with three to follow this week.  Each school I've been to has been filled with different students, but none is less difficult to leave than another.  And though the Spring brings promises of a future job, one that I look forward to, I also feel sadness that this season is ending.  I am truly between seasons now- in that "midwinter spring" that Eliot speaks of.  And while the beautiful views of snow-covered pines have thawed, but in it's wake is a beauty I find intriguing, too.
     So I'll join in the chorus of the children playing at recess and laugh with the students at lunch and with my friends at dinner and enjoy the fullness of the season.

 Part of Narita-san temple with plum blossoms in full bloom.

I love the pink color of the blossoms!

This is the Koto.  I needed lots of help with technique and the notes themselves :)

Snowy Blessings

     Though I long for the warmth of the sun and the flowering buds of Spring, today I'm content with a city blanketed in a thick layer of snow that still whispers its way to the ground.  The streets I've walked throughout the last month seem changed.  A hush has fallen with this snow- only a few meandering souls walk the streets; even the train stations seem quieter than usual.  Some shops closed; others remained open for those of us brave enough to walk in the snow.  And the already clean streets seem cleaner in their white downy fleeces.  This snow is unusual in the Kanto region- usually snow falls and melts within a few hours.
     And so I enjoy the flakes falling and reflect on the last few weeks.
     I can hardly believe it's been a month since I landed in this city.  Every day brings with it new opportunities to talk to students, meet new staff, and continue to learn about Japan.  Last week, I learned how much I'd grown to love a school when I was forced to part with them for the last time.  Though I'd only been with them for three weeks, I'd grown to love the smile on the vice principal's face and her genuine excitement to talk with me, despite the fact that I know little Japanese and she knows little English.  She's taught me that language isn't as much of a barrier to relationships as I thought it was.  And I'd grown to truly love the students, whose nervousness around me dissipated in games of jump rope and tag and making of Valentine cards in an early celebration of "American" Valentine's Day. When the whole school gathered to say goodbye to me in a special lunch, I found myself surprised by the tightening of my throat and the tears that nearly fell from my eyes.  What a blessing to realize how quickly relationships can grow.

This is the way they chose to see me off.

     Also among these new opportunities has been meeting a Japanese/American couple who've lived in Japan for nearly 20 years.  Annette and Akira run an English center out of a small condo near the train station.  They have students ranging in age from 4 to over 40.  Akira is a Japanese man who went to America for University.  He and Annette met in college and when family circumstances arose calling Akira back home, they moved to Japan.  They have a passion for teaching English and helping the Japanese people move toward their dreams, whatever those dreams may be.  They let me come over whenever I want and either talk or join in on lessons.  I've enjoyed being able to talk with them and get to know them and feel blessed to have the chance to meet some of their students- their stories of daily life paint a picture of Japan as a motivated, respectful, considerate, and driven culture.  I've met people learning English to help them in their jobs as Airline representatives, young students whose parents want their children to be able to choose among the premier schools and universities with their ability to communicate, and students who find joy in conquering new vocabulary and the ability to get to know people from other countries through English.  I've also met a fair amount of students whose meek manners and downcast eyes have shown me how different our two cultures are. Even though Japan is moving toward westernization, these aspects of a much older Japan are still intricately woven into the fabric of their culture, just like the colors of the occasional kimono I've seen worn by women around the area.
     And just yesterday, I laughed with joy during a recess gathering of fourth and fifth grade students.  The fourth graders at one of the schools I go to are particularly outgoing in their English practice.  Last week, I met some girls who asked me all sorts of questions, ranging from "what's your favorite color?" to "Run? Now?" This week, some of them wanted me to play with them on the gymnastic-flip bars.  I asked them what sports they did and proceeded in Japanese Lesson number 2 with them.  One girl readily told me she enjoyed swimming, and another told me she played basketball.  Which left Yuna.  She said, quite seriously, 'Shuji."
     "Shuji?" I questioned.  "What's Shuji?"
     "Japanese traditional," was her reply.
     The look of cluelessness must have been pretty evident on my face, because the girls continued to try to explain "Shuji" to me.  But for all their trying, they got... not far.  So, like any resourceful student, they found a rock and drew in the dirt.  Picture a spear looking thing with a box next to it.  It looked like a spear to me, anyway.  It was pointed like one.
     "It's a stick?"
     "Yeah, yeah!" said Yuna.
     Then they kept pointing at the box-looking thing and looking at me like "you know... stick, box."
     Only, it wasn't a stick, and it wasn't a box.  When the bell rang signalling the end of recess, I was still puzzled.  In the teacher's room, I asked around.  "Shuji.  What's 'shuji?'" Turns out, the girl was talking about calligraphy.  She must not have known what "sports" was and took it to mean "hobby."  Now I know: Shuji=calligraphy.  She and I laughed about it later.  I have to say that their eagerness made my day, though.
     I count myself blessed to have the opportunity to work with these teachers, students, and people and learn from them every day.  And though I long for Spring, my heart aches knowing that with that Spring brings with it a melting of this peaceful day and a parting from this place.
     But for now, I choose to rest in the peace of this day, realizing there are many more to enjoy yet before a new season comes.

"Just" a Teacher

A few days ago, someone asked me why I took this "mission/service opportunity" in Japan.  I immediately thought, "I'm not doing mission work here... I'm just enjoying teaching English to kids!"  But then I began to ponder the idea of what mission work is, and what it looks like.
I think in the church, we often hear the words "mission" and "ministry" and think "those are the people who work in places like Africa and actively engage the people around them with the Word of God."  People doing mission work are building homes and churches and sharing the Gospel message with church services and Bible studies.  They aren't me... I'm just teaching.  I'm just __(fill in the blank)__.  I'm just making new friends.
I came here thinking just those things.
Yet as I consider what that means, what it really means, I begin to see how even "just" doing whatever job you have, wherever that may be, is ministry.

I truly believe that God created us to be relational beings.  All the way back in the Garden of Eden, God created Adam. Soon after, he said, "It is not good for man to be alone. I will make a helper for him" (Gen. 2:18).  God gave the first man someone to share life with. Someone to be with.  In the Gospels, we find Jesus continually reaching out to others.  He spent a great deal of time with his disciples, and even when they continually failed to see who he truly was, Jesus spent time with them.  He continued to build a relationship with them.  He never gave up on them.  He never said, "Okay, disciples.  I've given you so many chances, and you still don't get it.  I'm giving up.  I'm tossing in the towel.  You're just too stupid."  Instead,  he does things like wash their feet.  Their grimy, sweaty, dirt-filled feet.  He met the disciples where they were and continued to build a relationship with them, to love them.
We have this need to relate to each other.  I see this in my time here, too.  My students, my wonderful students, are really shy.  They don't want to say anything to me in English because they're afraid they might make a mistake.  And yet just this week, I was lucky enough to be able to eat with a group of fifth graders who, while not the strongest English speakers, kept trying to communicate with me.  Miming things, asking friends questions to find the English word they want to use.  One rather shy girl (even to her classmates and school mates) asked different teachers and friends multiple questions just so she could ask me if I ran "fast."  And after lunch, she was thrilled when I agreed to have a snowball fight with her (they don't get a lot of snow, so even the wet half inch they got was a lot for them), and everybody in the school spent their time outside throwing snow at each other.

I knew that we have this need for relationship, but I still wondered, is this really "ministry?"
And yet, just after Jesus washes his disciples feet, he says to them, "By this all shall know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:35).  Love.  An important concept, and one that is built out of having a meaningful relationship with someone.  I love my family and friends because we've grown and continue to grow in our relation to one another through eating together, having meaningful conversations with each other, and doing various activities- playing cards, running, watching movies, cooking- together.  And the meaningful conversations always come out of the activities we do together.  My closest friends and I have had some of the most meaningful conversations while running together, cooking together, or watching movies together.  What began as doing something we shared an interest in turned into something vastly more significant.  But without those activities, where would those conversations come from?

Furthermore, how can I build a relationship deep enough with these kids, some of whom I have little in common with, that eventually turns to those meaningful conversations?  Is it still ministry if those conversations never come up?  Again, I question.  What is ministry?
And again, I turn to my ever-present source of wisdom, the Word, and find my answer.  And again, I turn to Jesus' commission to love one another.  He didn't say "have deep conversations about Me with everyone you meet."  He simply said to love.  Why love?  What's so different about love?  Doesn't everyone show love to others?  Non-Christians love each other.  They send each other Valentine's Day gifts, they give hugs, they have conversations with each other.  That's love.  How is what I'm doing any different?  And yet, there's more to it- Christ adds to the idea of love with these words "as I have loved you."  This, I think, may be the difference.  Going back to the relationship between Jesus and his disciples, I can't help but notice that he never gave up on them, even when the disciples were completely clueless as to just who it was they were following.  And, even when his time on earth had grown short and they still didn't understand that he was the Savior they'd read about and learned about in their religion studies, Jesus still gave his life for them, evoking for me the words of John 15: "greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends." To die for someone? That's a different kind of love all together.  That involves sacrifice.

But still, I'm not Jesus.  I am not dying for the people I'm working with.  Not literally.  Ministry takes sacrifice sometimes.

However, I'm giving my time and I'm trying (and I'm afraid, failing miserably at times) to love these people I'm meeting and these people I'm getting to know.  And in those moments when I really just want to tell my students to shut up and be quiet, I don't, knowing that such a command wouldn't be very loving.  Instead, with a patience that can't come from myself, I raise my finger to my lips and wait... and sometimes, that wait is a long wait.
I truly believe I'm laying down my life in the sense that I'm spending my days using my talents.  After all, Paul writes that we "all have different gifts, but the same body."  My gift happens to be in building relationships through teaching English right now.  And my ministry?  I think that's something that occurs in the way I share that gift.

First Impressions: Japan

     It seems strange to me that just a week ago, I was in the United States and Japan was a bunch of unknowns that had me worried.  Would I be able to adjust to another culture?  What would the people be like?  Would I be able to get around by myself in a country that doesn't use the Latin alphabet?  How would the teachers, the superintendent, and the students feel about me?  Would I even like Japan?

    In just a few days, I've been blessed with a good beginning to understanding Japan and the Japanese people.  Upon my arrival in Japan, I was greeted by Ken, one of the people who helped set up this experience for me.  Ken is a recently "retired" Tomisato native whose ambition is to "be a tour guide" for people who either look like they're lost or, like me, are coming to the area for a short time and want the chance to understand Japanese life.  He has been a wonderful guide.  Not only did he spend all of Sunday showing me the schools I'd be going to and making sure I was comfortable using the public bus system, but he also allowed me to eat in a traditional Japanese style with his mother, brother, and sister-in-law.  What a blessing to be able to sit on the floor and eat miso soup and various other Japanese dishes with people I couldn't communicate with, all the while feeling that the simple act of eating together was somehow greater than my inability to communicate my gratitude, and that my inability was okay.  

     Ken also took me to a Shinto Shrine and a Buddhist temple that was quite crowded.  The beginning of the new year has brought many to the temple in the hopes of making the coming year a successful one.  Going to the temple was an experience for me.  I was able to begin to understand how many of the people here think and what they believe.  But in some ways, it was difficult.  It's difficult for me understand how buying a small plaque for $10 will bring good health or a good marriage match to a person.  It's difficult for me to watch people throw money into a box as an offering to Buddha, all the while knowing that most of that money is going straight to the city's development fund.  What happens when a marriage match goes sour or a family member falls ill?  But I'm grateful for the chance to understand what kinds of things are important to these people I hope to know better by the end of my time here.  

     Yesterday was filled with more answers to my many questions.  It was my first day with the students here.  As elementary students, they don't know a lot of English, but they came up with the most interesting questions to ask me, many of which made me chuckle.  What's your favorite video game character?  What's your favorite insect?  How long do you run?  What area of Japan is your favorite?  Do you like Disneyland?  Would you choose hamburger or steak?  You like curry and rice? (I was over-the-moon when I found out it's a staple here!)  They were also full of energy, despite (or perhaps because of) the cold weather.  Here, they keep the classrooms just warm enough, and they don't heat the hallways.  

     The highlight of my first few days was sitting at lunch with a group of 2nd graders who couldn't tell me much more than their names, but, in their eagerness to talk to me, repeated things in Japanese in increasingly giggly tones and tried singing the few American pop songs they knew.  What a hoot it was to listen to a 7 year old sing Katy Perry with "wahhhhh" replacing any word she didn't know in English!  "Califona girls?" she asked.  "wooooaaaah, you gonna hear me roar..." 

     And the teachers have been eager to make sure I'm doing okay.  Every person I've met has been incredibly kind to me.  They've given me a taste of Japanese culture and have wholeheartedly taken me under their care.  

     A week can make a lot of difference.

Snapshots of a Life [in China]

You're tearing up roots and breaking down walls,

and I don't stand a chance at all

against the way you move.

-Audrey Assad, "The Way You Move"

Where does one begin to sort the memories, experience, thoughts, and feelings associated with packing up and living in an unfamiliar country?  I was only in Shanghai for two months.  In some ways, it feels like it was longer, and in some ways, shorter.
Life in Shanghai was... something inexpressible in a word alone. Because of it's size, Shanghai is never quiet.  My 6 a.m runs were filled with the zooming of people on scooters on their way to work and the traditional chants sung by men and women doing tai-chi in the park and public square.  The walk to school was punctuated by carhorns and bicycle bells.  Street vendors haggled with customers for anything from DVDs to scarves to fruits and vegetables. Shanghai is a city of opposites.  Old and new mix together, one beside the other.  Neatly trimmed hedges and pagoda-style roofs next to 60 story sky-scrapers.  People playing the erhu (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument) accompanied by an electric piano.  Grandmothers playing in the park with their young grandchildren. Shanghai is also full of rich and poor.  Our school, a privately owned school that costs upwards of $30,000 a year for high school students, had government owned, temporary housing for construction workers right next to it. This was a common sight throughout Shanghai.

One of the things I miss about Shanghai is walking home and seeing groups of workers playing cards on the side of the road.  You knew the bets were getting serious when crowds began to linger around players.  And I miss the guards around the entrances to our compounds.  They always smiled and waved "Ni hao" when I walked by.
As for teaching, I loved my students.  One of my favorite things about teaching 6th grade is that they still have an innocence about them- they're still just kids who want to go play at recess.  They aren't afraid to tell you that, either.  An actual conversation between one of my kids and I went like this:

      Me: I'm a little concerned with what you still have to write before Friday.  I think it would help you a lot if you came in during recess.

      him: But, but... it's recess.  (tears welling in eyes)

      Me: I know you like recess; I know you like playing football with your friends, but this paper is really important.

      him: No... I can't miss recess.

But what I loved most about my students was their ability to ask questions.  We were studying ancient civilizations, and they asked so many questions about why civilizations failed and how empires began and why they lasted.  And when confronted with new ideas, they didn't just take them at face value.  Many of them know the story of Jesus and his life and death, but a lot of them don't understand why his life is significant.  I felt so blessed to share with them the Gospel!  They asked questions like "Why did Jesus have to die?  Why couldn't he have a different punishment?" and "Why didn't the disciples believe Jesus when he said he had to die?"  Such inquisitive minds!  

My students... what a bunch of silly goofballs! I love them.

More than their inquisitive attitudes, they were active in sharing the love of Christ through service projects and serving.  The school has many opportunities to spend mornings or afternoons at an orphanage, simply playing with and holding the kids there.  My students showed me that God is at work in China.
It seems that my thoughts are quickly becoming muddled in that post-experience mind.  As I walked to a farewell party for my friend and I on our last night in China, I found myself wandering how to say goodbye to people and places that have changed the way I see the world.  Perhaps, those memories mean I never have to say goodbye.

To Write, or not? That is the (Eternal) Question

As I write this, all I can think is "I should really get started on those essays I need to write for class."  I keep putting them off.  I check my facebook, play a game on my phone, check my email, sleep, go for a run, and... somehow, those essays remain on my "to do" list.  And that stresses me out.  Not to worry, I'll eventually get there... but first, I have to write a little.  On the topic of Essays. 
You see, I actually rather enjoy writing essays.  (Don't tell my professors.  I'd rather not have more to add to my pile.)  I know what you're thinking... "Hillary, you're insane.  Essays are straight from the devil."  Or maybe you're thinking, "Hey, Hillary, why don't you write my essay for me?"  I hate to break it to you, but I'm not going to be doing your homework for you.  But, hear me out.  Essays make me think about what I'm learning.  I have to reflect on all the things we've gone over in class.  I love revisiting the texts we've looked at and comparing them, sizing them up.  But what I love most is revisiting them and seeing myself reflected in the pages of Mrs. Dalloway or thinking about how my parents shaped me into the person I am and how I'll use that knowledge in my own classroom one day.  Maybe essays aren't the most fun (I could be spending time with my friends, or watching an episode of Friends or Doctor Who!) but they make everything I learn applicable to my own life, and that's engaging.
And so, without any further procrastination, I'll go write those essays... maybe after a run?  Just kidding.  Mostly.  

(A)Pathetic Way to Be

It's been a while.  You may not feel like it, but I sure do.  It's been at least a week, probably more since my last post.  And I'm not going to lie, there's a reason.  It began when I felt I had no words to write.  And then, when I finally did find myself in the mood to write, I couldn't bring myself to do so.
You know those moments when you find that the worst person to face is yourself?  I hate to admit it, but that was why I couldn't bring myself to write.  I have found that in writing, I allow myself time to think, and I didn't want to think.  I wanted to stay in this blissfully ignorant state of doing nothing.  But you know what?  I hated that state.  I hate feeling as if I've accomplished nothing, and apathy led me to that state.  I found myself writing in my head about what I was thinking because then, I wouldn't have to look at what I was thinking later.  I could remain ignorant.  Writing it down made whatever I was thinking real.  And that's not all bad.  In fact, most of the time, writing makes the memories stay with me.  It gives me a chance to preserve my own history.  But yesterday, I found myself loathing to see who I had become, and rather than face it, I ran.  No, really, when I realized how different I was from who I wanted to be, I went for a run.  And when I run, I really do think.  I think it was my brain's way of making up for not writing.  And as I ran, I felt wretched, in part because I hadn't run in a few days, but also because I found myself finally admitting all the things I'd tried to ignore.
A wise professor reminded me today that there is a very real difference between what seems to be and what is.  Yesterday, I think I found that difference.  And now, I'm finally writing about it.
You see, I am 100% ready to graduate.  Only, my problem is that it's March and I won't graduate for another nine months (thank God Summer break is in there, too).  I keep thinking about the future, about life after graduation, about hopefully finding a job teaching overseas.  But all this thinking has made me horribly unmotivated.  Falling behind in classes? Check.  Losing perspective? Check.  What seems to be a long ways off is only nine months away.  In comparison to the past 15 years of schooling, what's another half a year?  If only I could remember that.  Now... to that homework I lost the motivation for earlier.  As my housemate told me before leaving for the second half of her student teaching, "Finish strong!"  Finish Strong, Finish Strong, Finish Strong.