Hello Ladies and Goddesses of Community Stories! I sent out this newsletter recently (maybe a week or two ago) and I thought there might be some interest here, too, after a message from April. So...ta-daaaaaah!
Dear Friends,
I was recently asked for the first time if I am homesick. It was then I realized exactly how overdue this newsletter is. Although it could be hitting me harder, I’ll admit, I am greatly missing my friends and family from home, as well as: cheese quesadillas, cheese, Goodwill, being able to understand everything that’s being said, Oregon, having books and materials around to read in English, the Sunday funnies, the college crowd, Maggie’s Buns, SNL, Cartoon Network, playing Canasta, Ticket to Ride, and Scene-It with my family, my cat…the list goes on. And while nothing can replace the things and places and people at home, I am trying new foods and activities, finding new haunts, and meeting some pretty cool people. In short: I’m adjusting. You’ve heard the saying “no news is good news,” and I think that has pretty consistently been the case for me.
It wasn’t like that from the beginning, though. In the first few nights, for what may be the second or third time in my life, I had trouble sleeping. And when I woke up, tossing and turning, my mind was plagued with doubts. I wondered what in hell’s bells I was doing here, exactly how far I was in over my head, whether I should have come at all, and if I wasn’t perhaps somewhat mad for doing so. For maybe two weeks post-arrival, even after the jet lag wore off, I would wake up each morning with my stomach curled into knots, feeling like I was about to go into the biggest job interview of my life.
It took no small amount of courage to go to the grocery store for the first time. It was my first morning at my new apartment, and I’d been left with a map of my local area. A map, you say? No worries, then! But you don’t understand. Even with a map, I felt like I was on an island: going beyond the safety of my door meant setting sail in a sea of un-named streets, buildings I didn’t recognize, characters I couldn’t read, and people who would be unable (or perhaps unwilling) to help me in the case that I became lost. And let’s be frank: I’m no star with directions.
After I’d laced up my shoes, I sat on the foyer step making sure that I had my extremely basic route and its landmarks memorized (if I didn’t make it clear before: most streets in Japan do not have names!). There I sat and I sat and I sat, hesitating, double checking, making excuses to stay just a little longer.
Ridiculous, right? Could anything be more mundane than going to the store? But there I was, sick and excited, my heart pumping and shuddering like a monstrous, sock-eating laundry machine. Finally, in a burst of conviction and adrenaline, I stood, opened the door, and crossed the threshold.
Once outside, I immediately felt a change. The scenery—the blue mountains in the distance, the water running in streams along the sidewalk, the fragrant vineyards between homes—beckoned me forth and distracted me from my nerves. In no time I was strolling the streets like a regular member of society! And on top of that, I managed to do my grocery shopping. I sounded out and decoded food labels in katakana, counted my yen, conversed with the cashier—and found my way home again!!! All in a day’s work, I say.
And every day brings new work. Sometimes it’s opening a bank account or applying for a cell phone and plan in Japanese, learning to use a squat toilet, set up a gokiburi hoihoi (cockroach trap), or buy a train ticket; sometimes it’s ordering food at a restaurant, figuring out home appliances by push-button trial and error, spying on my neighbors in the morning to see what kind of trash goes out what day; and now, on a daily basis, it is observing and acting, being able to communicate with teachers and students, and finding my place in the classroom and school. I really am exhausted by about 10 PM each day now, but make no mistake; it’s incredibly rewarding.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive before. This is what it means to see the world and take risks and make mistakes and laugh about it! Last week I met a class for the first time in which the actual teacher never showed up. She forgot. But fortunately, since it was our first meeting I had my self-introduction for the lesson plan, and, rolling with the punches, it was one of my best classes yet! I was able to communicate in Japanese and English (these were first year students, so their English is the lowest level) and had the students make name cards. Then, for the rest of the class, we played a True or False game (the statements were about me) and I used pictures that showed the answers. They REALLY got into that! I don’t know which of us was having more fun! The winners (last ones standing) got stickers, and every time I motioned for another round there were whoops and cheers. “Yaaay! Mou ikkai!” (One more time!)
Each day brings both new challenges and gratifications. All I can do is give my best, be open-minded and flexible, and ready to do anything from simply reading a passage aloud to taking over the class in the blink of an eye.
I think I’ve blathered more than long enough to convey the fact that I am indeed still alive and relatively well. But if you have any questions or comments I’d be glad for them! Also, contact info available upon request ;)
Much love and fond memories,
Julie
I've read through your questionnaires. You truly are an amazing group with so much to offer. The Community School students are lucky! I've paired you according to strengths (you have many), comfort level, experience (most of you possess this as well), and what you wish to learn. Teaching teams are as follows:
