The mountain school
Two years ago when I arrived at Nishikawanobori Elementary school, a very confusing conversation took place in Japanese which resulted in me getting into the vice-principal’s car with him, driving past the “Welcome to Nagasaki” sign, over a dam, up a mountain, and stopping at a tiny one-room school house in Yahazu. And so I arrived at bunkou. There are only four students in bunkou, two first graders and two second graders, which is all the tiny village of Yahazu has. To save the wee ones from trekking to the base school, Nishikawanobori instead brings the resources to them, and once a month that resource is me. It takes a bit of getting used to, changing from teaching classes of 34 to four. Activities that used to take half an hour now take about 30 seconds. (Who wants another turn? How about another? Not bored yet? You want to go again, right?) It helps that the four kids are adorable and think that everything I do is hilarious. Though consequently I am terribly self-conscious about EVERYTHING now (and you would be too if seemingly randomly kids broke into inconsolable fits of giggles at you), including but certainly not limited to: my hair”style,” the way I say “ba-nya-nya,” how I give a thumbs up when I ask “OK?,” the way I sweep the floor with my midget-sized broom, the way I inflate beach balls, and oh how the list goes on.
Today was the last day at Nishikawanobori Elementary, and I was lucky to have been the honored guest at a truly lovely and heartwarming ceremony this afternoon. The gym was decorated, signs were painted, trivia quizzes were written, songs were sung, armfuls of gifts were given, and I ended it all with a very incomprehensible speech about how much I would miss them. Kindness followed by sadness, I suppose that’s how this whole Japan story’s going to end up eventually.
1 comment July 12th, 2006
