Saying Goodbye

“Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.” - Charles M. Schulz

I was uncomfortable informing the Kinderbabies at my Monday school that I would not return after summer vacation. They were confused because they cannot yet comprehend time or space. They believed I returned home to the U.S. every night and then flew back to Japan every morning. It took them a few minutes, but they eventually understood - Gabi-sensei would not return to play with them anymore. Some cried while others hugged me and said,「また遊びに来て下さい」or "Please come back to play [with us] again [sometime]."

My three schools and board of education put in the effort to say a proper goodbye with assemblies for the students and farewell parties for the staff. I was presented with cards and expensive gifts but more importantly, I listened to touching speeches from those who thanked me for my two years of service in Ginoza. I was moved and ultimately heartbroken to say goodbye to my students and the people who were my second family. 

Speaking of second family, I didn't realize how difficult it would be saying goodbye to the OkiJETs until I was ugly crying in the club with my besties. Okinawa hosted a diverse group of JETs who came together during my final year to form a great community and support system. Luckily, I now have new places to visit on my travel bucket list!

I will return to Okinawa someday as a tourist but for now, I bid my OkiJET experience adieu. I'll miss the mad dash out of my apartment to make it to work on time; the rolling hills with the most beautiful sunsets; my kei car and its missing door handle; Hey boy heeeyyyyy; gossiping with my coworkers; all of my past and present kinderbabies; the incredible view from Matsuda Elementary; traveling to nearby countries; "Chill" nights; Thursdays a.k.a. beach days; Joshikai in the bathroom; pushing my students to do their best; Shommi, "I see you;" Spa nights with Yaya (surely); giving everyone the side-eye; Kanna Beach, my thinking spot; the talkative principal who held the longest staff meetings; Snapchatting during those meetings; walking down the hall and hearing "Gabi-sensei;" delicious onigiri, the love of my life; my sweetheart student neighbor; weird Japanese holidays; school lunches; arguing with Ian; scaring students by yelling "No Japanese!" during an interview exercise; eating three bowls of tofu cereal and immediately regretting it; doing eyebrows; obsessing over Nutella; 何人, 美人; having Genki Time with Hayley; my students singing the alphabet backwards; secret changing; Indian food; serious discussion with Nic and Matt; Aly's Line messages of truth; that student who told me my makeup was too dark; Tka's Line calls, discussing fecal matter with everyone; telling Mark he can't get to second base; my sassy dance teacher and the dancing grandmas; the way my students would say "What" or "oh my God;" kissing that cute Hawaiian JET (figure it out haha); popcorn; Bad Bitch nights; talking to my Japanese-American students; the call to assemble the ladies; Tka's dancing during a dancehall song; Japanese chocolate; Ashley's dancing and insight; the male teacher who told me to focus on myself; the teachers who cried with me when it all went down; my frenemy who was actually a friend; the person I thought was a friend, but turned out to be a frenemy; Eisa; not functioning the next morning; and salsa dancing with my instructor.

I'll miss it all! 

As for this blog, I'll add my experience with reverse culture shock and include a few retroactive posts.  But to my readers: whether you stubbled upon my blog, kept up with me for years, or creeped, thank you.  Seriously, thank you and good luck with your adventures.

P.S. can I now say the word "bully?" ;)

Heading Home

Moving out of Japan was a process

I felt like a hoarder as sifted through two years of acquired, yet pointless possessions. 

Why do I have a hot sandwich maker? Have I ever used it? No? I'll just leave it behind. Geez, when was the last time I wore these pants? Whoa! They are way too big now! Bye Felicia (#IceCube)! 

I filled up three suitcases, shipped two boxes, and threw away countless bags of trash. It was a process, but I was prepared because the JET Program offers an After JET Program Guide that outlines and discusses the procedure of your return home.

Read it!

The most stressful aspect of this was contacting my successor and discussing items I had for sell. In comparison to other JETs, I didn't have much to sell but despite offering my things at a more-than-reasonable price, my successor only bought the bare minimum: curtains, a low table, fridge, microwave, washer, wifi router and iron (with board). I could understand passing up my Nitori furniture, but my two-year old gas stove? Luckily, other OkiJETs bought the rest of my things and my successor finally agreed to purchase the most expensive item on the list, my car. 

Why u no buy my stove?

My contracting organization, my town's Board of Education, made sure I disconnected all of my utilities. However, they were confused about the pension refund, something not usually done in Japan unless retired. I couldn't be more grateful for the General Information Handbook and Justin, the middle school ALT, who explained some of the more confusing parts of the pension refund to my tax representative. 

Here is some advice:

In regards to moving back home, be organized, plan, and think "Snoop Dogg" - keep your mind on your money and your money on your mind. Packages sent home were inexpensive (via boat), but canceling my cellphone plan and paying for overweight and extra luggage fees was pricey ($200+). Moreover, depending on your apartment contract, you may be required to pay an exorbitant cleaning fee; double if you have tatami.

Teaching Update...Again

It's a new school year and I have new coworkers! However, I wanted to discuss the situation before and after the staff change.

M. Elementary

Kindergarten = Weekly

3rd & 4th = Now, Monthly

5th & 6th= Weekly

M. Elementary quickly became my favorite school due to their super kawaii kindergartners, who I affectionately called, "The Kinderbabies." The students were so kind and well behaved thanks to their kind, yet firm kindergarten teacher. I really enjoyed English playtime with them, and I ruined my make up crying during our last class and their graduation. I see them in the hallways and wave to them goodbye when they walk home, but it's not the same.

Kinderbabies

The grandma-esque 5th-grade teacher was a joy to work with because she would become so frazzled during class. Her plans for English class always went array but somehow, it worked! My 同級生 6th-grade teacher always made English class fun for the students. Since we are the same age, he also felt comfortable enough to speak with me about things going on in  his life, like that he and his wife are expecting a little girl. 

My only issue at M. Elementary was watching the deteriorating relationship between the principal and the vice principal. There is a term in Japanese called パワハラ pawahara or "power harassment,"  which means that a superior is harassing a suborinate in the workplace. It's like a boss treating you so badly that it makes you want to quit. But why not fire the person, you ask? Because Japan; that's my only answer. Anyways, the principal needed to know where the vice principal was at all moments of the day. If the v.p. stepped out to use the restroom, the principal would walk in and, in a loud voice, demand to know where he was. On the day the principals and vice principals had to submit their transfer paperwork, he told me that he decided to move on to another school. He looked so relieved and I felt sad that I was the only person he felt comfortable telling. Not that anyone hated him, but my coworkers LOVE gossip and he knew I wouldn't tell anyone. My 同級生 6th-grade teacher has, thankfully, not changed and my new set of kindergartners seem very well behaved. Aside from planning more English classes, I don't see any foreseeable problems in the future.

K. Elementary

Kindergarten = Weekly

 3rd & 4th = Monthly

5th & 6th= Weekly

 I loved my coworkers at this school, but I was beyond bored with English class. My unofficial JTE just gave up and taught English class in Japanese. He was always late for class and, because he was also the science teacher, he would sometimes turn English class into an extended science lesson. I  became particularly upset when he would give the students the wrong information -  like how the words for "bat" (animal) and "bat" (baseball) were pronounced differently. In the midst of class he would run out of ideas and ask me if I had any games they could play; I had none.  I can't think on the fly for English; I need time to prepare.

My monthly classes with the 4th graders were absolute hell. They went through four homeroom teachers in one academic year! Moreover, their supporter teacher (from this post), left early as well! They were uncontrollable and there was a war occurring between the boys and the girls.  I lost all 英語の先生元気-ness when a saw a boy hit a girl. When I ordered him to apologize, he gave her the finger and told her to die. I did not have English class after that ordeal.

Because of the change, I had to say goodbye to my favorite vice principal. He was such an amazing fatherly figure. He always practiced simple phrases with me and it was fun to hear him say "oh my god" throughout the day. I have a new JTE-like person; the former 6th-grade teacher. He's really cool, but I am the main teacher for English class. I was worried about weekly English class with the new 5th graders but they have a super strict homeroom teacher and now they are a joy to teach. So far, I haven't had any issues and it seems like gender war is over. Hallelujah!

 

Kindercrazies

K. Elementary has a new principal but no one is happy about it. The new principal was a vice principal at this elementary and also worked at the B.O.E., but I've only heard terrible things about her. I was told not to worry, but I still tread lightly. During the entrance ceremony, I watched the principal speak rudely to my coworkers but with the sweetest voice - kind of like Umbridge from Harry Potter. I also noticed that the traditional Okinawan decorations, like the shishimai shisa and the haarii boat were gone. Luckily, I have a coworker that speaks Spanish and they update me on any drama that's occurring at the school.

 G. Elementary

Kindergarten = Never
1st - 4th = Bi-weekly or Monthly
5th & 6th = Weekly

This is an exert from this post because nothing really changed:

  The 6A class remains silent with only one star student answering all the questions. However, they will repeat a word or sentence after me and answer questions when asked individually. The 6B class is more active, but has a few pranksters like Rin-chan. What sets them apart from the previous Satan 6th graders is their lack of animosity towards me. I'll take that as a success! So far, my favorite class is the 4th grade. I am convinced that their homeroom teacher, Mika-sensei, will become Japan's first female prime minister. She's a tough lady and has a handle on her 40-student class! They have the best English out of all 3 schools and it's because she makes sure they both understand and diligently complete the activities. I do more advanced English with them and it's been a lot of fun! 

Helping out the 5th graders with a tug-o-war contest

Now for the update: Mika-sensei is now the homeroom teacher for the new 6th graders and boy has she whipped them into shape! They are a a lot less rambunctious than before, which is good since I am trying to get their English to the 4th-grader's level - it's that good. The new 5th-grade teacher was last year's 3rd grade teacher. At first, he seemed to be a little stressed, but once he saw how well the students did in English, he relaxed a bit. The 5th graders start the year with simple English, like "hello" and "how are you" but since they can already answer that in both English and Spanish, I try to to make it  harder in order to improve their English.

It's a little bit more work than last year, but I am up for the challenge.

How to Make an Extremely Long Distance Relationship Work

 A modern fairytale

If you type the words “long distance relationship” into Google, you will find an endless list of articles on how to make your long distance relationship work. The problem with articles such as “How to Make a Long Distance Relationship Work (with Pictures),” “21 Tips on Making a Long Distance Relationship Work,” and “22 Things No One Tells You about a Long Distance Relationship” is that they give general advice on things a rational person already knows: communication is imperative to the success of a long distance relationship.

For some, a long distance relationship can mean that their significant other is a few hours or a few states away. In my case, the distance spanned the entire United States and the Pacific Ocean or approximately 8,389 miles (13,500km). By using simple, made up math, I would need to increase normal communication by 800% in order for my 8.5–year relationship to stand the “Long Distance Relationship Test.”

 If communication is vital then I have all the tools: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, Skype, MagicJack, WhatsApp, Line, SnapChat, Vine, Pinterest, Blogger, Gmail, and OoVoo. However, what is the point of all these social media outlets of your significant other doesn’t make time for you? Despite the challenges of moving to a new country, the first year of my extremely long distance relationship went by smoothly. Nevertheless, communication soon became scarce entering my second year. I was seemingly pushed down the priority list in favor for a new group of single friends and a budding obsession with CrossFit. I protested the issue of his indifference several times, but I was met with both eye rolling and wording that suggested that I was doing the typical “crazy girl” thing. 

You see, these “helpful” articles never discuss what happens when you fight in a long distance relationship. In a normal relationship, whoever was in the wrong would apologize with both words and action. In a long distance relationship, you can only apologize via text or Skype and since there is no physical/emotional feeling of remorse, something that would have only upset me for two hours now pisses me off for two days! Do you see the problem here? Therefore, unresolved fights and weak communication are the happenings of a disaster but add temptation and the allure of the single life into the mix, and you have the start of World War (E)X. 

In short, extremely long distance relationships are difficult, but it’s important to communicate your feelings even if they result in the end of that relationship. It is better to save face than to have your girlfriend find out in the midst of a vacation that you’ve been secretly seeing another woman, taking her out on dates, meeting her family and, unbelievably, messaging her right in front of your girlfriend. And then have that, now, ex-girlfriend write about it in her blog. 

***

Although my relationship ended, I know many couples who have persevered through long distance relationships. Therefore, my relationship should not be indicative to the success or failure of other relationships. Also,  there is clearly so much more to the story that I won't discuss. これから頑張ります！ (From now on, I'll do my best!)

Long Hair I Do Care 2

Gorgeous hair is the best revenge - Ivana Trump

I refused to step foot into a another Japanese beauty salon after my dreadful experience in this post. I decided I would wait until my visit home in August for some "hairapy." The problem was that my hair faded, my roots grew in about 4 - 5 inches, and my ends split. I looked like a walking disaster, and it took the strength of Jesus Cristo for me to not to shave my head a la 2007 Britney Spears.

The day after I landed in Miami, I saw my beautician and she worked wonders with my hair. I kept my natural ash blond roots, but she changed my warm blond ombre to match my new cool blond look. Now I would no longer need to dye my hair while in Japan, but she suggested that I at least cut it.

Fast forward to four months later during recess when my 5th grade student told me that my hair looked bosa bosa or "unkempt."

Japanese kids are brutally honest and so when a student told me that my hair looked bosa bosa, I left work and drove straight to a nearby and well-known salon. Luckily, there was an opening and the owner asked me to sit in a swivel chair so that she could check my matted hair. I asked for a trim, and she followed up with basic questions about my part and layers. After a short discussion she went to work on my hair.

My dry hair. 

She literally cut my hair while it was still dry. 

She also cut my hair dry while it was parted to the side.

I was so confused.

I waited it out, and I was eventually asked to move to the washing station. There, I received the hair wash and neck massage of my life. It felt great, but I was still a bit worried about my hair cut. Afterwards, I was placed back in the chair where two assistances finger dried my hair into a Hagrid-like state. Once it was 90% dry, they introduced round hair brushes and continued to dry. I waited for the flat irons or curling irons, but they never came. The owner cut my hair a little more and asked if I wanted to balance/thin the right side of my hair. No thank you!

This is my "I don't know what the f*&$ is going on"  face

The verdict

Although I was unhappy with the procedure or the lack of styling, the cut looked amazing. My now thick and healthy ends naturally curled inward - including the back! Unfortunately, my hair was 4 inches shorter (thanks a lot imperial-system Obama!), but it was healthy and free of split ends. Now that I know what to expect, this may be the last rant/post about beauty salons in Japan.

Do anyone have Japanese beauty salon blunders that they would like to share?

That Time I Punched A Guy in the Face

 You know that saying “bad luck comes in threes?” I think it should be “bad luck comes in a baker's dozen,” because everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong that particular night. 

Proof that I smiled at some point

 

 Strike # 1: She (i.e. Me) Doesn’t Even Go Here! 

This past July, I attended a farewell party that I was not originally invited to. I sound like a party crasher, but it was a parting celebration for a specific person who I knew, but not very well. I was invited at the last minute but looking back, I shouldn’t have gone in the first place.

Strike #2 & 3: Naha, Why You So Far?

& Sober Sister Status!

The party was going to start at an izayaka (bar/restaurant) in Naha, make a pit stop at a bar, and then migrate to a local club. Naha, the capital of Okinawa, was about an hour away from Ginoza via highway and due to Japan’s strict no-drinking-and-driving laws; I would be plagued with sobriety.

Strike #4: So You’re Telling Me I Have to Pay for Alcohol I Won’t Drink?

When I arrived at the izayaka, I was told that nomihodai (all you can drink) and tabehodai (all you can eat) was around ¥3,000 (around $30). Apparently, the original price I was told, around ¥1,600yen (around $16), was for either nomihodai or tabehodai, but not for both.

***

That’s cool!

 I’ll just do the tabehodai, since I’m obviously not drinking!

Wait, I can’t?

 We all need to pay ¥3,000?

They can’t split it?

But I’m not even drinking!

Shoganai (it can’t be helped, so just accept my fate), huh?

Ugggh!

***

Strike #5: The Price is Too Damn High 

Thirty dollars may not seem much for foodies, but the problem was that the food was mostly skewers, fries, salads, and sushi – basically finger food. As a pescatarian, I had a limited choice of mainly sushi and salad. I couldn’t believe I was paying ¥3,000 for sushi and salad, a meal that is less than ¥1,000 ($10) in Japan. Ugh!

Strike #6: Asshole Says I’m Not “Easy on the Eyes,” Except for, Like, My Eyes.

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one to pay for their sobriety, but my sister in sobriety wasn’t limited by the selection of food though. We all left the izakaya, where I reluctantly paid my ¥3,000, and migrated to a nearby bar. Although I was salty about the izakaya and the fact I was sipping water at a bar, I had a good time talking to my fellow OkiJETs. However, that good time didn’t last very long, because we were interrupted buy another JET who told me,

“I hate everything about you but your eyes.”

Normal people would just say, “I love your eyes,” so I was a bit confused. I thought he was just throwing some playful shade, so I retorted, “That can’t be true! Everyone loves my hair!” To which he replied, “No, I don’t like your hair. It’s whatever” and discussed why my hair sucked. I would never consider myself a ten, but my hair? That shit is perfect! You couldn’t find better hair on Jesus, who is the personification of perfection! Insult my hair, and you insult my hair kami (spirit). I don’t know what the hell kind of stunt this guy tried to pull. Was he trying to knock me off my “pretty-girl pedestal” that I wasn’t even on? I don’t know! Why couldn’t I just be left in peace?

 Bonus #1: Save ALL the Money! 

I was agitated with the way the night turned out, and I could feel myself falling into a resting bitch face. However, we were headed to a club where I could dance to my hearts content, so it would be OK – or so I thought.

At Club Fantasy Space Okinawa, we were given a group discount, but I noticed a few particular problems: the cramped space and the disproportionate amount of women to men. Clubs in the U.S. usually strive for more women attendees than men, but this club had men outnumbering women by 15 to 1. It was a horde of sexual harassment and I was about to dance in the middle of it. A few ladies and I formed a protective circle and made our way to the dance floor. 

Strike # 7 : Creepers! Creepers Everywhere! 

The music was great, but the foreign men, who I assume were high-ranked American military personnel were treating the club like their personal frat party. They began to mosh around and crash into anyone nearby. I had to push a few guys to prevent them from jumping on me and my petite friends. After the moshing ceased, the harassment began. Guys, both Japanese and foreign, would snake their arms around my waist in an attempt pull me back onto their denim cocks. Others would grab my forearm, and a few would stand too close and just stare.

Those who have been to the club with me know that I react very aggressively. I will push away arms in disgust or blatantly tell a guy to “back the f*ck up.” Even at my most drunk, I would never succumb to those sort of sexist advances. That being said, I was disappointed to see that some women did.

Strike #8: M.A.C. Lipstick: $18; Punching A Guy in the Face: Priceless

As the number of ladies in our protective circle dwindled to three, we moved to the back of the dance floor. While dancing, I felt two hands grab my hips and pull. I quickly removed the hands and turned toward the guy, a Japanese guy, and said “No!” When I turned around to face my friend, I felt it. I felt a hand grab and squeeze my butt cheek through my silky pants. (#YesALLWoman)

I turned around to see his hand retreat, but he faced his friend and LAUGHED at his flagrant violation. I attacked instantly and punched him in the face with my right hand, which was reinforced by my hard clutch. He fell, but when I moved forward to continue my chonga assault, I noticed my phone on the floor. All the contents of my purse spilled out onto the dance floor. I recovered most of my belongings expect for my M.A.C. lipstick.

Strike #9: F*ck Me, Right?

The bouncers came and removed the guy and his friend from the club, while I found a chair and sat there for the remainder of the night. When it was time of leave, I made my round of goodbyes, stopping to talk to a few friends. One JET expressed how sad she was that the girl, whose party this was for, was leaving. I said, "Yea, imagine how you'll feel when (sober sister) and I leave!" I didn't know how drunk she was, but my words pushed her to the verge to tears. Naturally, I moved forward to hug and console her, but I was shoved away.

I got into my car and drove home; the best part of my night.

Disclaimer: This telling of events is in my perspective. Also, my bad mood in the beginning of the night did not have a factor in whether or not I would have punched that guy in the face. I would have done it even if I had a wonderful time. I don't tolerate being touched, ever. For the sake of privacy, I omitted names. However, I didn't sugar coat any of the "strikes." I don't live in a world of unicorn kitties, and neither should my blog. (-`ェ´-怒)

That Time I Blurted Out the Word "Blow Job" at Work

The title of this blog post isn't a joke.

Preface

Last year at a farewell party, one of my coworkers from the board of education got super drunk and struck up a conversation about American porn. Had it been an older employee or a conversation on the "mechanics" of porn then I would have kindly excused myself, but my young coworker only commented about the freedom of porn in America. 

What, the freedom of porn? 

Yes, because all Japanese porn, whether purchased, streamed or downloaded, is censored. To be honest, I'm not a big fan of porn but highly pixelated Japanese porn kind of defeats the actual purpose of porn, right? Either way, the conversation ended with a list of his favorite American porn stars along with another round of admiration towards America's pornographic freedom. 

The Incident

Fast forward to a random Wednesday afternoon at the board of education where Justin (the middle school ALT) and I chatted quietly about the week's events, when we were suddenly interrupted by my porn-loving coworker. My coworker wanted me to recommend a good porn. What the ??? When did I become the authority on American porn? I knew of Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian's videos, but I didn't know any real porn. Wait, I knew one more! My mom and I were once huge fans of Teen Mom and Teen Mom 2, and I recently heard that one of the girls decided to start a career in pornography. I wikipedia'd the name of her porn and wrote it on the Post-It for my coworker.

Farrah Superstar: Backdoor Teen Mom

My coworker looked at the Post-It for a few seconds than pointed to the name with a confused looked on his face. I said, "Farrah" out loud, thinking that he had an issue with pronouncing the name. He looked stunned for a second and then asked again. This time, I spoke a little louder and slower, "Far-rah." He took another moment and asked, "So this movie is about..." and made the typical gesture of a blow job - tongue to the cheek with a pumping fist.

I was f*cking mortified, but Justin was in a fit of laughter. I explained to my coworker that "Farrah" was the girl's name without really understanding the reason for his lewd gesture. It wasn't until later that Justin explained to me that フェラ fera, pronounced the same way as "Farrah," is the Japanese word for fellatio or "blow job." 

I said the Japanese word for "blow job" in the middle of my quiet board of education - TWICE!  Later on, my coworker admitted that he thought I was pretty brave for saying the word so loud (before he knew that it was a name), but not to worry about it because no one was actually listening anyway. I'm pretty sure that was lie to make me feel better. Earth please swallow me whole!

Moral of the Story 

Be careful! Innocent words in English might not be so innocent in Japanese! Also don't say フェラ "fera" or "Farrah" out loud. Like, ever!

Super Typhoon Neoguri World!

Last week at Ginoza Elementary, the principal announced that Typhoon Neoguri (Typhoon #8) was projected to hit Okinawa. As a Floridian, nothing under a Category 3 Hurricane fazes me but when they announced that Typhoon Neoguri had the same strength as 1992's Hurricane Andrew, a Category 5 Hurricane that devastate all of South Florida, I knew I was in for it.

Stocking up on supplies was easy and since my apartment is solid concrete, I knew that I wouldn't have any real damage aside from a possible broken window. Moreover, because there is only one window in my apartment, actually a large sliding door, I knew I could take refuge in the kitchen, shower, or toilet room.

As Typhoon Neguri closed in on Okinawa, the typhoon suddenly changed course and the center would slightly miss Okinawa but travel close to the west of the island. Although it wouldn't be considered a direct hit, I knew from experience that the inner and outer bands could cause enough damage to shut down the island. This was a massive typhoon, or so it seemed compared to the tiny, tiny island that is Okinawa.

It's customary in Florida to have the day off before a hurricane strikes in order to party prepare or evacuate. I assume the Okinawa would take the same precautions, but boy was I wrong. The day before the typhoon I was beside myself with anger. The principal called an emergency meeting and announced that if the buses canceled their services for the following day, we were not to come to work but take nenkyuu (paid holiday).

Did you read what I just wrote?

I had to wait for Okinawa's bus companies to cancel their services in order to know whether or not schools would be closed! When the f$%# did bus companies become meteorologists? And why do I have to take a paid holiday off?

No one at work could confirm that school would be canceled. When I asked, their response was 「台風くるかなぁ」　or "Will the typhoon come?" I just mentally screamed, "Will the typhoon come?! The f%&$ do you mean will it come? It's coming people!" I could not handle the bureaucracy and although I love Japan and Okinawa, their vagueness over something as serious as a natural disaster really "tap danced on my nerves." Later that Monday evening, the bus companies canceled services for the following day.



See that long island to the right of the eye? That's Okinawa!

I moved my dead potted plants and drying rack inside and awaited the storm. Later in the night I heard the winds pick up, but I peacefully slept through the night. Tuesday morning, Typhoon Neoguri hit Okinawa with relentless winds. When I looked outside, I saw telephone polls, power lines and trees swaying in the wind. My apartment, which was built to withstand earthquakes, also began to gently sway. My phone rang constantly with emergency text warning various cities to evacuate due to landslides and flood, and it wasn't before long that I lost power.

I spent most of the morning messaging friends and family, but I kept my phone powered by using my laptop and an external Iphone battery. I read books and played DS the entire day until I feel asleep.

We had a meme off that day. My messages are on the right

The following morning, no one knew what to do about work. The buses had resumed service, but the weather clearly indicated that the typhoon had not completely passed. I contacted my town's middle school ALT, who told me that he was expected at work. If he was expected at work, then so was I. I began to dress for work but half way through, he sent a text saying morning classes were canceled, and that he was sent home. Later, they said he needed to take nenkyuu for going home, even though they sent him home. It doesn't make sense! I was so confused and, since my classes were canceled, I decided to stay home. Around 1pm, the weather cleared but my phone was down to 3%. I made a trip to the BOE (Wednesday afternoons are my BOE days) to charge all of my electronics. I thought they would question as to why I wasn't at work, but they only asked if I was alright. They are too good to me!

I stayed there playing on the computer working until it was time to leave. The power returned, but the Internet was still down until I contacted my Internet service providers, who sent workers to my apartment.

First typhoon of the season and hopefully the last!

Boy Problems

Japanese children are a mystery to me

I'm not trying to promote the exotification of Japanese culture, but sometimes I feel as though I don't know my students at all.

Alright, that is a bit of an overstatement, but let me explain. The younger children are more forthcoming about their feelings and emotions but as they age, they become more reserved and withdrawn. As a female teacher, the girls are at ease with me; and while there are boys who confidently interact with me, the majority are shy. This reservation and fear does not help me understand their personalities and it also does not necessarily help gain respect, as I've had issues balancing kindness while also commanding respect. Let's give some examples!

Yūga

6th grade

 M. Elementary

Yūga is one of the few outspoken boys who actively participates in English class. All the students participate, but he goes above and beyond to learn and use as much English as possible. Also, it's not rare for him to ask me how to say a certain phrases in English so that he can use them during class. In general, he's a good kid. However, last week as I glanced across the room to check everyone's progress, Yūga looked at me and said, "馬鹿野郎 (ばかやろう, Bakayarou or idiot)" assuming that I wouldn't understand. I changed my expression and asked, "Who is?" Seeing the stern look on my face, he smiled, pointed to himself and said, "I am." I told him he was right and walked away. 

Rin

6th grade

G. Elementary

Rin is an outspoken boy who enthusiastically disrupts English class. His participation in class usually depends on his interest in the lesson. I remember my first interactions with him consisted of him repeating the word "China" even though the lesson had nothing to do with countries:

Me: Do you like baseball?

Rin: China!

Me: Let's try again. Do you like baseball?

Rin: China!

Me: Well, I guess we're done here.

I referred to him as the "China Kid" until the 6th girls from my other schools confessed that they were in love with him and with that confession, I learned his name. He is also the only student who refuses to call me by my name. Instead, he either calls me ★のカービィ先生 Hoshi no Kābī sensei (Star Kirby*-sensei) or ★のガービィ先生 Hoshi no Gābī  sensei (Star Gabi-sensei). To retaliate, I call him Rin-chan (Baby Rin), which also makes his name sound like a girl's name.

"Kābī" ("Kirby" in Japanese sounds) a lot like "Gabi."
 If only they knew how much ass I kick with him in Smash Bros.

Last week, the homeroom teacher asked me to begin class without her because she needed to speak with a student in the hallway. I walked into the class and inquired about the day's classroom leaders, who were suppose to lead the English class chant. When the students remained silent, it was Rin who ratted out his friends and told them to hurry up because class had started. What!?!

Maybe he was polite because the English Advisor, who was visiting the school at the time, had to co-teach with me because the homeroom teacher's "talk" turned into a 20-minute yell-fest? Nope! He did it again another day and even told a few a his friends to shut up while I spoke. Weird!

Hyūto 
a.k.a. Kyūto Hyūto (Cute Hyuto)

5th grade

K. Elementary

Hyūto is an another outspoken boy who enthusiastically disrupts English class, but he also actively participates. Does that even make sense? For example, one day Hyūto kept interrupting my lesson, so I asked if he would like to be the teacher for the day and lead the class. I assumed that he would remain silent out of embarrassment but to my surprise, he rose to the challenge and took my place in the front of the classroom while I stood behind his desk like a student. The lesson went well, and I even received compliments from the principal.

Last week while we were practicing the days of the week, I noticed that Hyūto was not only saying the words with me, but also rudely imitating my voice. I gave him a menacing look but he continued until I finished my review. My co-teacher stopped me from reviewing the months of the year and began to scold Hyūto in front of the class. Hyūto was then asked to sit alone in the back of the classroom. After class, my co-teacher called Hyūto to him and began to scold him once more. 

Giving you the stank eye!

Co-teacher: Were you making fun of Gabi-sensei? 

Hyūto: No, I wasn't.

Co-teacher: Then why did she look at you? Were you not saying the words at the same time? Were you not saying the words in a high pitched voice? Like a girl?

Hyūto: ::Silent::

Co-teacher: Well, answer!

This went on for 15 minutes, but my co-teacher used Hyūto's silence to berate him on his lack of respect. I knew it was necessary, but I couldn't help feeling bad when Hyūto began to cry. 

Co-teacher: Now that you understand, what will you do? 

Hyūto: Apologize to the class.

Co-teacher: To the class?!?

Hyūto: And to sensei

Co-teacher: Which sensei?!?

Hyūto: Hirofumi-sensei.

Co-teacher: To me?!? (my co-teacher lost it at this point)

Hyūto: to Gabi-sensei

Co-teacher: That is the only person who you should be apologizing to. Now go apologize!

Hyūto walked over to me, but remained silent as he used his shirt to wipe his nose and shield his face. My co-teacher left the room to speak to his homeroom teacher, but instructed Hyūto that he was not allowed to leave the room until he apologized. While he stood in front of me crying, I glanced around the room in search of tissues. I couldn't find a box, so I succumbed to  standing and waiting for his apology. After 10 minutes, he popped out of his shirt, apologized, and quickly walked back to rejoin his classmates.

Kind of like this, but his face was inside his shirt.

Boy Problems

From these situations, I learned that I shouldn't judge my male students' level of respect for me solely based on their participation in class. Their hesitation to interact with me is an issue but, in the end, boys will be boys. I never take instances of their disrespect to heart, but I will correct it if it occurs. Until then, I will continue to be that "friendly American face."

Japanese Driver's License: The Tests

The Written Exam

10 True or False Questions

Level: Easy

Time: 30 minutes

For the written exam, I was escorted into a room where I was handed a packet. Inside the packet were large, laminated cards containing questions with pictures and a scantron. The woman who proctored the exam was a novice who spent more time sorting packets and counting people, even though there were only 5 of us, than actually proctoring the exam. After she explained the procedure and time limit, we were free to start the exam.

 

The exam was child's play in comparison to the written exam in the U.S.

 

Here are some sample questions:

1.) If you are going to drive a motor vehicle, it is important to know the rules of the road and to follow them at all times (True).


2.) You can turn right even though there is a red light in this situation (see picture above; True)

3.) At an intersection, a police officer signals for you to stop. You ignore the officer and follow the intersection (False).

4.) When turning right you can proceed to the middle of the intersection to turn, but must not obstruct oncoming traffic from the opposite side (For those that driving on the right, imagine turning left; True).

 If you failed the written exam whilst living in Japan, not only are you unfit to drive in Japan, but you are also an idiot. 

 After I finished the test, I was asked to wait outside until the tests were graded. Once finished, we were asked to return where the proctor announced that one person did not pass the exam. I shocked that she announced the results so openly, but knew that there was no way the person who failed could have been me. When she announced those who passed, she called my name, congratulated me on my perfect score, stamped by paperwork, and asked me to turn in said paperwork to another counter in order to schedule my practical exam.

The Practical Exam

Driving Course

Level: Hard

Time Limit: None

 

On the day proceeding my practical exam, I converged with my teachers about a particular problem. In the U.S., if you turn left into a double-lane street, you turn into the left lane because cars, who are turning right from the opposite direction (right turn on red), could turn into the right lane. In Japan, there is no "right turn on red." Well, actually, it's "left turn on red," because they drive on the left. So which lane was I suppose turn into?

 

 

Confused? Look at the picture above! Notice the car turning left? It's heading to the left lane of the double-lane road it's turning into. This was something I was unsure of because the driving center for my practice class only used single-lane roads. Although I asked one teacher, the question brought about a full staffroom discussion with teachers drawing diagrams and searching the Internet for a definitive answer. I love my senseis!

 

 

The following day, I drove, one more, to DMV in Naha to take the the despised driving exam. I was asked to wait in a room that opened onto a balcony overlooking the driving exam course. When I conversed with fellow foreigners, I realized  I was the only one who practiced the exam at a driving center.

 

The examiner arrived and gave a lengthy explanation, conducted in Japanese, regarding the exam procedures. It was fairly simple;  we were to be called into pairs, One person would take the exam while the other sat in the back observing and waiting their turn. We were given one lap around the course prior to the start of the exam to become acquainted with the cars breaks and gears. Moreover, he explained that if we drove onto a curb (especially during the Crank) we were given 3 chances to back up, adjust the car and continue driving. However, he stated that if we drove over the curb, we would fail the exam immediately.

 

When he finished, the looked down at his clipboard and began calling names.

 

"Romeu Maria Gaburiera-san."

 

I quickly raised my hand to indicate that I was present, when he said, "You're first." I let out an audible "Oh my God!" because I thought he was merely calling role. As I gathered my things, I cursed my luck and silently followed the examiner to the driving course.



I wanted to Mario Kart drift the sh*t out of this place

 

Although the test did not officially start until after the first loop, I exaggeratedly looked under the car and checked the road in order to "safely" enter the car. Once inside, I adjusted my seat and mirrors, and started the car. Before taking the car off of park, I said the one phrase that heard would definitely help my chances in passing:

 

 よろしくお願いいたします～！ (Please regard me favorably)*

  

The course was set for every possible scenario: intersections, double lanes, single lanes, construction, hills, dead ends, obstructed views, railroad crossing, crank turns and S turns. My plan was to stay calm, but check my mirrors like a psycho. I saw it as a performance where every swivel of my head had its count to an unheard song. As I drove, the examiner would instruct me in Japanglish, "Turn right on 1" or "Turn left on 12." I was confident, but I let the confidence get the best of me as I entered the Crank.



The Crank

 

The first turn into the Crank was smooth, and I assumed the same result for the second. However, I felt the left, rear wheel drive onto the curb. I slammed the breaks and watched the examiner jerk forward out of the corner of my eye. I had saved the car from going completely over the curb, but I became discouraged when I heard the examiner let out an audible sign. I exchanged looks my fellow test-taker seated in the back, as I backed off of the curb, adjusted the car and cleared the second turn of the Crank.

 

My morale was low, but I will myself to try my best. I was relieved when the examiner asked me to park. Parking for the test was a side-road park where the car needed to be a foot or less from the curb. If you drive onto or scrape the curb, you fail. After I placed the car in park, the examiner asked the guy sitting in the back to excuse us so that he could discuss my results in private. I braced for the worst, and I knew I was in for it when I heard the examiner suck his breath through his teeth.
 

"Well, you passed."

  

I was so shocked to hear that I passed that told him that I didn't believe him. I wanted to jump out of the car and tell the whole driver's license process to "Suck it!" but I sort of kept my composure. The examiner asked if I had taken a course at a driving school. When I confirmed his assumption, he said he could tell by the way I checked my mirrors and that by doing so I demonstrated the utmost respect for driving safely. He also pointed out one mistake from the beginning of the exam where I had turned right from the left lane (in a double-lane street). I wasn't sure if that was still during the practice loop, but he informed me that he asked me to perform the same turn 4 times during the exam, and I executed the turns perfectly. After stamping my paperwork, he instructed me to visit the foreign license counter.

Ironically, I returned to the same counter with the not-so-nice lady, who genuinely smiled and said "You passed!" All the animosity I held towards her vanished instantly. I had passed, and my struggle and the person who caused my struggle (including whatever was my own fault) no longer mattered.
 

* I also wore a mid-thigh dress, because I heard that wouldn't hurt my chances as well ;)