Reflection (from return flight)

6/8/09

On the plane coming to Japan, I wrote five major goals in my journal:

"1) Enhance my faith and fire for Jewish practice.
2) Sharpen my teaching ability and touch and better the knowledge of those I teach.
3) Walk with the highest of morals, sincerity and kindness.
4) Embrace Japanese culture through the study of an art.
5) Better posture, eating habits, driving speed and awareness."

As I look now, through His Help and experiences with people and places of a wide range of character, I see that they were nearly all accomplished.

I sit now, confident that I am stronger than I have ever been. There were many trials, mistakes and setbacks (My body is now feeling the effects of this. May He heal it quickly.), but there were also moments of grace and glory.

Through it all, I look at my self and see that I have changed in character, heart and habit.

The Japanese taught me grace and humility and the Israelis emboldened my will. Where my heart used to seek the edge and the exploration of the external, now I desire to settle and explore within. Also, habits of eating, cleanliness and prayer have changed for the better.

As I look ahead, much is to change. I seek to pioneer a new world, and will undoubtedly be faced with my hardest challenges to date.

I will complete this testament with the concluding words of the Adon Olam prayer: "the Lord is with me, I shall not fear."

Thursday and Friday Teaching

Thursdays: Sobu and Yokodai. Fridays: Kaneriya and Yoshii

This Friday afternoon I completed my last class. It was the culmination of a whirlwind week. I said final "goodbyes" to students, prepared the new teacher, packed up and moved out. I sit now, relieved and ready for some rest.

Here, I would like to recount both the character of my Thursday and Friday classes.

The average Thursday began with high-energy Sobu assembly classes in the morning. After, I would have some time at the office to rest and prepare lessons and then head north to Yokodai. There I taught four classes above a dentist office near Yokodai station.

The classes had a wide range of personalities. Some were enthusiastic, some were highly intelligent, some were disinterested and some were sweet and gentle. The quality of the classes' learning would go in cycles. As the year went on, some would be joyful and progress rapidly for months at a time and then have a phase of indifference. I believe such was my own fault. My teaching act and style would grow stale over time, and I was constantly forced to create new ways to draw interest.

In the end, it kept the job very exciting and greatly enhanced my teaching ability and understanding of the nature of children.

Here I would like to speak of Kurumi, Ryo, Saki and Shunichi: four students that I will not soon forget.

Kurumi and Ryo were girls in the third or fourth grade. They were very sweet, good natured and retained much of the lessons. They would giggle at the jokes, sing the songs, and focus on learning.

Saki was a couple years older than Kurumi and Ryo. She was also very sweet and worked hard. Sadly, she was grouped with a disinterested girl that sucked a lot of the life out of the class. Even so, Saki overcame her influence and learned a great deal. She was a great pleasure throughout the year, and left me two sweet and well-decorated letters.

Shunichi was a tall Junior High School student with big hair. At times he felt like a big second grader. He was such a joy to have in class. His natural English ability was weak compared to others of his age, but he always tried hard. If we were alone in the class we would go through the songbook, singing everything from "Rudolph" to "Yellow Submarine." He worked very hard on his Speech Contest performance; making up for his level by learning emotional gestures and tones. In the end, he took the gold medal home. I was very proud of him. On his final day, he left me the following letter:

On Friday mornings I would head to Kaneriya Kindergarten for one lesson. Such was one of the happiest places I have ever been. The students would run to greet me and scream, "Hello," and the administrative staff would gladly sit me down and give me fruits and drinks. They put me in their staff yearbook picture and treated me as one of there own. On my last day, they rounded up the bulk of my students during their recess for a final "goodbye" and handed my a nice parting gift.
Friday afternoons, I had two classes in Yoshii. They were held in a small and well-decorated basement of a very kind woman named Mrs. Nakamura. Although we spoke little of the same language, Mrs Nakamura and I built a close relationship over the year. She served me drinks, introduced me to her sons and invited me to a fantastic Taiko drumming performance in Tokyo.

The first class was composed of as many as eight kindergarten students. At the beginning of the year, they were very difficult to control, but in time became my most interested class. They laughed hard whenever I changed the pitch of my voice and would fight to hold my hand during action lessons. They were a lot of fun and I cared for them as my very own children.

The second class was composed of four super-intelligent and lovely 1st-2nd grade girls [Mana, Hina, Chihiro and Yuna] and an intelligent class clown boy named Taisei. The girls would pick wild flowers and hand them to me at the beginning of the class, and sit attentively and absorb for the entire 40 minutes. They soared through the textbooks and learned and retained more than any other class.
In the end, I let go. I felt like I had completed my task and am now ready to move on. I received many letters and statements of appreciation from students and parents, and feel that nearly all were satisfied. Although, I was not in the best health or mindset for teaching in the final week, the Lord gave the strength to finish strong.

The sun has set on the Japanese teaching experience. May the coming rise arrive with His glory and inspiration.

Japanese Mikvot

Over the past few months I have become accustomed to going to public baths, or sento, and/or hot springs, or onsen, about twice a week.
The sento’s indoor facilities include multiple skin-scorching baths with water spouts to massage the limbs and saunas. The experience includes the removal of all clothes in a locker room, crouching under a low showerhead to wash the body with soap and then submerging.

It is an ancient Jewish custom to purify by complete submersion in a body of water at least the size of a large outdoor hot tub. Today, it is a daily ritual for many to submerge in a well-heated mikvah before the morning prayers.

My most interesting mikvah experiences have come with Rabbi Binyomin. He tries to go almost every day and knows some of the most fascinating sento in Tokyo. One time he took me to a festival-themed sento. Once we entered, we were given festival robes and belts of nice traditional fabric and design. Then we took off our clothes, put on the robes and walked into a large room with food and game stands, large bright displays and hundreds of people walking around in nothing but the robes. From there we went into the locker room, undressed and entered a large bathing area with indoor/outdoor, clear and salt water baths and saunas. We spent some time and left. I was told that that Japanese will take there families there for a day trip. I imagine such a place can only be found in Japan.
Also, Japan has much underground volcanic activity. Such brings many hot springs, or onsen, to the surface. The Japanese have a particular affinity for bathing in them and have built indoor and outdoor facilities throughout Japan. (Wild monkeys also enjoy them and are often spotted bathing in the mountain pools.)

A personal high onsen experience came at a recent trip to Shikine Island. There, salty steaming waters arose from the beachfront. I read that its pools are believed to have healing effects on the skin and have been documented as having one of the best 100 views in Japan. I entered, stomached the heat and the salty sting on my flesh wounds, submerged and refreshed.

Binyomin describes the experience as being “born again.” The lifestyle in Japan occasionally wears down the body and/or spirit, and the mikveh has personally been a great resource of sustenance and renewal. May it continue to be so.

Wednesday Teaching: Takatori and Nokendai

Teaching on Wednesday begins on the floor of the office cafeteria with a playroom class. For the breadth of the year, this encompassed three 2-3 year old students, their mothers and two toddlers. The students would sit and learn, while the mothers would spend half the class time keeping them focused and the other half chasing down the toddlers, who would walk around and find trouble. To keep there attention, the classes have been filled with singing, puppeteering and storybooks.

Through the year they have grown in many ways. One student, Yuna, kept silent and always clung to her mother. I challenged her every week to speak and detach. I didn't give her the weekly cookie until she responded "yes, please" and I made every effort to pull her away from her mother. After months of little improvement, she broke through. Now she holds my hand and is one of the loudest participants in the class.

Soon after, I drive a short distance north to Nokendai for two classes. The classroom, which is housed in a ballet studio, gives plenty of room for running and physical games. Such lightens the mood and is a great learning enhancer.

The first class is composed of five young elementary school-aged student. We play "throw, catch, bounce, roll" with a ball, race with "on your mark, get set, go," and tag while singing the "walking, walking." Such has not only made the class more enjoyable for all, but has built a close relationship between me and the students.

One of students name is Haruka. Her mother is intensely focused on her education. For the Speech Contest, I gave her private lessons and could tell that she was well practiced at home. On the day of the contest, she arrived with sharp garments and a bow in her hair, stood for a flawless performance and took home the first prize.

The second class was composed of as many as nine older elementary school-aged students, but will dwindle down to two in May. (This is because of soccer practice, extra studies and other activities of the full schedule that the Japanese assign for their children.) For the most part, they were all good-natured and well-prepared and progressed smoothly throughout the year.

The last three to remain are named Yuuki, Seira and Yuri. I mention their names here because I have grown quite fond of them. I imagine that one day in the distance I will read this, there faces will come to my mind and I will smile.

Sakura

3/29/09-4/05/09

The sakura, or cherry blossoms, bloom annually for about one week. The tree holds a high mystique in Japan because of the exuberant beauty and transience of its flowers. The people keep an ear close to daily sakura blooming forecasts and have an old tradition of picnicking and drinking with family and friends under its blooming flowers.

My personal viewing has spanned many lands and times of day. The local street of Takatori Yama is lines on both sides with inward bending sakura that form a tunnel. Driving up and down the street on a sunny day felt like floating through the clouds. At night, I ran up and down the street, with neck back, gazing at the flowers glowing through the dusky street lamps.

On Shabbat I hiked out to the Imperial Palace. On the northern side there was a moat below two hillsides, both rife with downward leaning sakura. The whole area was flooded with people, picnicking or hiking through. Similar to the redness of momigi (maples), the whiteness of sakura is an unearthly site that brings on the feeling that one is in a lucid dream or vibrantly animated movie.

On Sunday I went to a park in Tsurumi, just south of Tokyo. It housed a set of lakes and hills of leaning sakura. There, I came across an open are, with a variety of colors of sakura and hundreds of people. There was a slow drum beat and a large circle of slow dancing and the singing. Such amidst the soft tones of picnicking families created an ethereal atmosphere.

On my way out I stopped to pray. Facing Jerusalem and an open view of a sakura-edged lake, I stood for a long moment of peace and gratitude. I thought of all the blessings of the "season" in Japan and how I have been moved to change for the better.

Thank G-d, the land and spirit of the culture has been fertile soil, the wide breadth of great people that I have met have planted an abundance of well-timed seeds, and the Blessed Holy One brought the rain. May all remain so, and the days finish in health and strength.

Japanese Baseball

3/29/09
This past Sunday I took a train up to Saitama to see a preseason baseball game at the Seibu Dome. The Seibu Lions were hosting the Tokyo Yakult Swallows.

I was taken by Brad and Jordan: two brothers who are taking their last semester of law school together at Temple University in Tokyo. Brad is soft spoken with a strong athletic frame and Jordan is a big teddy bear of a man, who has no fear to say or do the outrageous at any moment. They invited me at the Chabad House and we took the train north together.

We took four sets of trains and arrived at the shining silver dome after noon. As we approached, we could hear the roar of the crowd, the beating of drums and loud unified cheers. Upon entering, I was engulfed in the sweet fruits of the values of Japanese culture.

(These values, which do not always taste sweet, but have a beautiful appearance, are unity, harmony, professionalism and attention to detail. To keep a unified and harmonious society, Japanese are very polite, wary of the opinions of others and stray from speaking of controversial issues that may lead to argument [i.e. politics]. Such is one strong internal mechanism that keeps the society peaceful and efficient. Also professionalism and attention to detail are very important. For example, I have seen a parking attendant team, dressed up in sharp uniforms and communicating with walkie-talkies, flag a car into a spot with the same intensity and focus as a flight ground crew bringing down an emergency snowstorm landing of the President of the United States of America.)

The ideals of unity and harmony were on full display from the moment we walked in. The team’s colors of sky blue and white could be seen throughout the dome, from the bathroom walls, to the clothing and faces of the fans. Also, the “bleacher” section was filled with loud and inspirited fans, who had a large array of megaphone-led unified chants, songs, dances and carried large flags and banners. At one point, the entire section took out blue umbrellas and danced and chanted in a nearly professionally choreographed manner. They would cheer loudly as the pitches were delivered and explode with joy on good outcomes. They were always positive, never booing the other team or disrespecting their players. It gave the feeling that the fans were actually a part of the wholeness of the team: the body was on the field, but the spirit was in the stands.

Professionalism and attention to detail could be seen on the field. The players displayed great technical skills and perfect form even while practicing between innings. They all seemed to know exactly how to act in each situation and I did not see one mental mistake throughout the game.

Although our tickets were in another location, Brad and Jordan could not stay far from the effusive buzz of the “bleacher” section. There they made quick friends with the fans, learned the cheers and dances, waved blue flags and acted as wildly as possible. At one point, Jordan picked up a fan on his back, shook him and roared.

The Lions won the game 9-6. After the game we stayed for a pep rally of drumming, flag waving and cheers and headed home. On the way, Brad and I spoke about favorite prayers and I offered him to put on my Teffilin. He agreed and, just as the sun was setting, he and his brother strapped on the holy black boxes, faced Jerusalem and had moments of peace. Soon after we parted, in gratitude.

Tuesday Teaching: Kamio-oka

On Tuesdays, I travel north again to an urban suburb of Yokohama named Kamio-oka. The classroom is located in the city center, near major train and subway stations, sprawling commercial areas and a river.

The commute usually entails a 40 minute drive in tight traffic. I try to make the best of it by singing Shabbat melodies and listening to Eagle 810 (the military’s radio station).

Upon arrival, I carry my bag of props up a flight of stairs to a small room. The room sits above a small art gallery, run by a cheerful　little woman with large glasses.　　When I pass, she bows low and smiles, saying few words.

The first class is comprised of four playful students of early elementary school age. When I arrive, they are usually hiding behind the door or in the side room. They wait for me to find them, laugh very loud and then the class begins. In this class, the stamp competition became particularly close and heated. The boys combined for one team and the girls for the other. Going into the final day, the score was Boys 269 – Girls 266. The lesson was filled with stamp opportunities, and stayed intensely close. The deciding factor was a game of team tic-tac-toe for two stamps. It came down to the final question, and the girls won. After counting all the stamps, the final score was Girls 291 – Boys 289. The girls let out a great cry, I gave them their reward (pictured above) and handed the boys a second-place prize. They all left in high spirits, unaware that they had just been pushed to personal highs in learning.

The next class contains two mild and disciplined older elementary school aged students. It is easy to get them to passively repeat phrases, but penetrating the English into their minds takes effort. I try to add in more games and movement to make it interesting and occasionally I will lighten the mood and get some smiles. The fruits of the effort have been much progression and enjoyment from all parties.

After they leave, I have a 50 minute break to explore Kamio-oka. I usually walk through the thin streets, tasting the distinct flavor of Japanese urban life. Squeezed together within a few acres of land, there are flower and vegetable stands, large department stores, “pleasure” shops, pachinko (slot machine) parlors and high and low class restaurants. I pass flocks of neatly-dressed and homogeneous Japanese, walking fast with heads down, all nice and orderly. After, I recite the evening prayers and prepare for the incoming students.

The third class is composed of junior high and high school students. Two have spent time studying English in America

and all are very advanced. They have studied English in school and their vocabulary and grammar is strong. Because of this my lessons focus less on the words themselves, but on conversation.

Many are naturally shy and need to be pushed to use their knowledge when they speak. We read and repeat textbook sentences together to get good pronunciation and word flow. In addition to this, we have practiced Star Wars dialogues to encourage loud and emotional conversation. This has brought much enjoyment and has advanced their bravery and speaking ability a great deal.

After, I give the boys a “youth-style” handshake, pack up and take the long road back.

The semester ended this week. Some old students will be leaving and new students will be coming. I have become close to many, and it will be sad to see them go. However, I am confident that each has advanced their English and grown in ways they had not expected.