Assembly Class

Sobu Kindergarten: 9/25/08

This Thursday I taught a set of assembly classes at Sobu Kindergarten. An assembly class is a 20 minute English lesson in front of 30-90 Japanese children. Although it is teaching, the classes must be entertaining. This means that, in order to capture the students’ attention and involve them in the lesson, the teacher uses songs and much jumping, moving and shaking.

This Thursday I drove south on the toll road to reach the lesson. The toll road was paved through the central highlands of the Miura Peninsula and offers great views of the sharp green hillsides and rural villages. This particular day was clear and the sun illuminated the multiple shades of greens of the grasses, ivies and trees.

At about 10:00am I arrived at Sobu Kindergarten. The structure and decoration of the Kindergarten is closer to a theme park than an American school. The buildings are painted pastel yellow, lime green, pink, orange and bright red and sit at the foot of a hill in a rural setting. There is an entire building near the playground built like Thomas the Tank Engine (pictured below). The hallways are also painted with pastel colors and there are cute pictures and paintings posted everywhere. When I arrived, I heard the sounds of “Supercalifradulous” booming from the stereos and loud laughter of scores of children.

Most children of the kindergarten wear matching yellow, green and red shirts, green shorts, long black socks, white shoes and small caps that designate their age or class. Whenever I walk through the halls at a Japanese Kindergarten, I am often greeted by the children. They run to me from all directions and shout “Hello” and then give out a loud belly laugh. Often I put my hand about a foot over their head and offer a jumping high five. They proceed to crouch low and jump as high as they can (as many times as it takes) to slap my hand. Upon a successful high five, the children celebrate and laugh in a state of bliss. (Imagine a college basketball team winning a National Championship and celebrating. Picture the jumping and cries of joy of the winning young men. Such is a comparable level of delight to what is experienced by these children after a successful high five.)

Soon I arrived in a pink classroom and began preparing for five lessons. I taped a calendar and pictures of the months to a white board and took out the rest of the props: pictures of the sun, clouds, rain and snow, the alphabet, Q, R, S, T, U and V posters and their subsequent props (a picture of a turtle and a tiger for the T lesson).

Each class entered with 30-60 students and 1-2 teachers. The teachers had seemingly full control of the students. They had them stretch out their hands (pictured below) and sat them in well-spaced rows.
The lessons began with repeating phrases and singing songs about greeting, the date, months and the alphabet. After, as they began to lose their concentration, I had them repeat and physically perform, “up,” “down,” “shake,” and “turn around.” Then we sang and performed Hoki Poki. This brought loud laughter and concentration and I followed with teaching the letters and their words (U: umbrella and unicorn). After this, I ended with a “Goodbye song.” Upon the conclusion of the lessons, I was immediately hugged by huge swarms of students. I reached my hand out and gave as many ecstatic high fives as possible and pointed them in the direction of their teachers.
Here it is important to repeat that the classes are more about entertainment than lecturing. There is an art to keeping the children focused and interested. The teacher has to be quick and always have the edge. When the students start to get bored, one must quickly change to a fun song or motion exercise. If they get too excited and lose focus, the teacher must calm them. Also, there is also an art to having them repeat a letter or phrase ten times. One must change speeds, pitch and volume of his or her voice and constantly be creative. Such has been a challenging learning process for me and will probably continue to be so for the rest of my stay in Japan.

After finishing the lesson, I packed up the props, said the final “goodbyes” and took the toll road home.

Around Shonan Takatori

The Matty’s office and dorm (whose structure is the same as the adjacent houses) lie in a quiet neighborhood named Shonan Takatori. The neighborhood stands at the waste of Mt. Takatori (This means “grabbing hawk,” which refers to a species of brown, wide-winged hawks that stalk and swoop throughout the area. They have been known to talon food out of a human’s hand, and I believe this is the source of the name.), about 1.5 miles inland from Tokyo Bay.

The houses around the area are small and tightly pressed together. Each has distinct architecture and intricately planted, shaped and cut gardens. Most are built compactly on 2-8 foot high stone foundations to protect from earthquakes and typhoons. Many people have small box-shaped cars and dogs and/or cats as pets.

The local earth is filled with a wide variety of life. The diversity of vegetation is far superior to that of America. The mountain landscapes are filled with various species of maple, pine, bamboo and many others unknown to me. They cover the forests in small connected patches, appearing as a quilt. Also, throughout the spring and summer, many different colors and sizes of flowers sprout along the roads and within personal gardens. The Japanese have quite an affinity for them and make an extra effort to plant flowers in every free corner. Along with vegetation, there are many species of insects. The most interesting are the green beetles, praying mantises and the various species and colors of butterfly. This said, the area’s birds are much less widespread than in America. I have sporadically seen sparrows, chickadees, swallows, ravens, hawks, and tiny green birds named mejiro. Also, land animals are rarely seen. They are limited to small forest squirrels, snakes and raccoons.

Just outside Matty's office, there is a trail that ascends Mt. Takatori. It passes trees, flowers and a set of house-sized brown boulders and leads to a tower that holds open and expansive 360 degree views. On a clear day, one can see Chiba Prefecture (on the other side of Tokyo Bay) to the east. To the north, one can see the towers of Yokohama and Tokyo and the green inland hills, the southeastern most edge of the Miura Peninsula and Yokosuka city to the south. To the west, one can see Sagami Bay, more hills and Fujisan (it has not been clear enough for me to see yet).

Many times, I hiked to this tower, sat in meditation and then opened my eyes to clear vision of these vast views.
As one descends from Shonan Takatori towards Tokyo Bay, one passes a variety of places to shop, eat and drink. Within 50 feet one can find a new and well-kept bank or corporate convenient store and small wooden shacks that house the businesses of small “mom and pop” food, flower, clothing or car maintenance shops. Also, there are tiny noodle shops, housed in buildings that are five feet wide and fifteen feet long (just enough room for a cook, his or her equipment and seating for 2-4 people).

Continuing towards the bay, one walks along a river, where many fish from land or clam in the water, and arrives at a large park. In the park, there is a baseball field, an area for barbecuing alongside the river and a tall hill that houses a tower. From there one can see the vast inland villages, the mountain range at the center of the peninsula, Tokyo Bay and a few miles of its coastline.

I still live in Shonan Takatori, and plan to continue to explore and write more details in the future.

Dorm Living

6/08-8/08

Recently, I moved out of the Matty’s Dorm and into a homestay with a Japanese family. Here I would like to recount the most pleasant characteristic of dorm living: the bedroom.
The day I moved in, Mrs. Kyokuta showed me my room. It had tatami floors, paper windows, a bed and a large metal desk. From the outset, I desired to live and sleep in the Japanese style. I moved out the bed and the desk, and brought in a futon. Every morning I folded up the futon and stored it in the closet and every night I took it out and prepared it for sleeping. During the day, my room consisted of two walls of paper windows, two walls of closed closets and a bare tatami floor.

Such an arrangement brought many moments of peace. Its emptiness was a good environment for prayer, study and meditation. I kept the tatami floors clean and soft and the morning and late afternoon sun illuminated the paper windows with great beauty.

On the south wall, behind the paper windows, there were two sliding panes of glass that opened to a small wooden patio. The patio faced the dorm’s garden: a well-planned set of seasonally flowering bushes and trees, boulders, wild bamboo shoots and a traditional rock lantern. I would often eat breakfast on this patio, looking upon the vegetation and the surrounding hillsides blowing in the wind. At night, the patio often had open views of the rising moon. I would sit and watch it glow through the clouds. On such nights, I would open the window panes, lay the futon next to the screen, and fall asleep with my eyes watching the moon.

Such experiences will be missed, but I have been very happy in my current living environment. I plan to write about the family, the house and the way of life in future.

Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 3 & 4)

8/14/08-8/15/08


After a windy night in the high mountains, I awoke to clear skies and a view of Fujisan. My initial plan was to head south and hike two more peaks in the morning and then loop back over Kita Dake and Aino Dake in the afternoon. This changed when a weathered and old mountain man told me that thunder and rain were possible in the high mountains in the afternoon. With this knowledge, I decided to continue south over the peaks and take the quickest route down the mountain. As I left, the man said, "be careful" and "good luck."

As I started to climb Notori Dake (3052m), a dark thick cloud and powerful wind covered the mountain. The green mountain scenery from the day before was hidden and I could only see 20 feet in front of me. As I approached the second peak, the sky cleared over the eastern valley and vision returned. I took a short break and headed down a rocky hill with wild flowers and tall grasses.

The time came to leave the high mountains and I began a steep and seemingly endless descent through a thickly forested mountainside. The hike was taxing on my knees, feet and eyes, but clear views of Fujisan and the surrounding forests eased the pain. Finally, I arrived at the campsite and put up the tent with my tired bones. After, I walked over to a near river and built a rock tower. At the campsite, I met a French Canadian named Phillip and his wife, Yoko. We spoke about living in Japan, talked, laughed loudly and raised spirits.

Before heading to sleep, I sat for a long time and watched the clouds float around Fujisan, taking in the atmosphere of the mountains.

I awoke the next morning at sunrise. There was a clear view of Fujisan under clouds of yellow, blue and orange. I quickly packed up and got my sore legs marching down the trail by 6:15am. The first leg was along and over the river and the second was through a mossy forest. The sun was out and illuminating the leaves and the views of the surrounding mountain slopes.

At one point, I took a break and sat facing the river. I gazed at the ripples and the reflecting light. I thought about how fortunate I was to be in the Japanese Alps at that moment and to have made it over the mountains with my health and possessions intact.

Soon after, I finished the last leg, a paved road under clear skies and open views of the high mountains, and arrived in Narada. Narada was a small town at the end of the trail with houses with multi-colored roofs and a famous onsen, or hot spring. With the help of a kind Japanese couple, I found the onsen. I quickly paid, took off my dirty clothes, showered and submerged in the warm waters. The facility that housed the onsen facilitated the cleaning experience of the bath. It had tatami-floored tea rooms, stone floors and ajisai flowers just outside the bath. Afterwards, I headed down to the bus stop and found the fastest route back to Tokyo (with the proactive benevolence of the kind Japanese couple).

A few hours later, I arrived in Tokyo, called Rabbi Binyamin and was graciously accepted to stay with his family for Shabbat. At his house, I prayed with renewed fervor, nourished my body and got a full night of sleep.

Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 1 & 2)

8/12/08-8/13/08

The trip began on a Monday evening, when I took a train to Tokyo and stayed at Rabbi Binyamin's house. The next morning, I prayed, ate and took a set of trains west to Kofu. At 2:00pm, I took a bus along with 20 other backpackers to a trail head in Hirokawara. The road was thin and winded around mountain edges and alongside waterfalls. Upon arriving in Hirokawara, I made best use of my maps and the Japanese signs and took a steep path up the spine of the mountain. I arrived at the campsite with just enough time to set up the tent before dark. With the darkness came the pouring rain, which continued for the majority of the night. My tent was soaked and leaking, but dry enough on the inside to allow a full night of sleep.

When the sun arose, the rains stopped. I took down the tent and let it dry with my sleeping bag in the sun for about an hour and a half. At 9:30, I began to hike a steep path up a grassy mountain. As I ascended, the weather changed very quickly and often: from cloudy skies to sunny skies or to a thick and engulfing mist that obscured vision.

Eventually, I reached a clearing and saw the surrounding ranges under blue skies. As I ascended, I met many Japanese and they all greeted me with a cheerful countenance and "conichiwa." I continued up and made it to Kita Dake (3193m), the second highest peak in Japan. There I prayed with tefillin and ate.

As I gazed upon the valley, I saw a bird still in the air. It wasn’t flapping its wings, just balancing stationary in the wind.

I headed down and arrived at a mountain hut station by 2:30pm. There I rested and pondered whether to set up camp or continue to the next hut (which was three hours away). There were dark clouds over the valley and hovering over the peaks and I considered staying. I looked into the distance, saw that there was no precipitation coming out of any of the clouds and judged that it would be safe to move on.

As I went, the trail became steep, misty and lonesome. I went fast, but with great caution, always leaning and stepping uphill. The atmosphere was heavenly and I often gazed into the clouds. I reached the second peak, Aino Dake (3189m), dry and safe. As I descended, the sun peered through the clouds with Grace. Soon, I made it up to the next mountain hut, set up the tent and headed to the western edge of the campsite. The Beauty of the view and Glory of the day brought me to sing verses of praise into the valley. As I sung, the sun peaked through the clouds again and shined rays of yellow into the valley mist. After, with a cold and tired body, I returned to the tent for sleep.