Monday Teaching: Sakonyama

Here is the first of what I hope to be a complete set of writings on the Japanese English teaching experience.

On Mondays, I take the tole road north to Sakonyama, a relatively rural Yokohama suburb. Driving at high speeds, without the continuous stop-start-stop driving of the normal trafficked commute, is liberating and a very enjoyable experience in itself.

The Sakonyama Class is at Ueno Kindergarten. The building neighbors a large vegetable farm and the sweet scent of burning cedar or other vegetation is often in the air as I exit the car. I usually arrive as the students are getting let out, and am engulfed in a sea of loud giggles and bubbly smiles. I pass through, recite the afternoon prayers, quickly set up the classroom and begin.

The first class has four girls. They arrive early in their Ueno Kindergarten uniforms and wait for me to set up, laughing loudly at everything I say or do. This light mood, along with their short attention span, makes them very difficult to teach and their lessons are often exhausting. To keep them interested, I have to be constantly on the move; singing, playing games and aimlessly running around. If I am not creative enough and my acts go stale, I will lose their focus and the lesson will be in vain. Exerting effort to keep their attention and to inspire them to participate and understand has taught me a lot about the nature of children.

The class’ smallest student is a little doll named Reika. She wears a red hair band and bangs and purposefully makes her voice high and squeaky. Sometimes before class we play voice games together. I squeak three times, and she makes three squeaks. I make three higher and faster squeaks and she imitates, and so on.

After they leave, I have a five minute break. Then the third class’ three students enter. I greet them with “Hello, How are you?” and they respond, “I’m fine thank you and you.” When I first started two of them were quite mischievous, making witty comments and hiding in the cubby holes. To counter this and redirect their talents, I created a behavior modification system (adapted from that which I used at Windsor Academy). If they do good, they get a stamp, if they misbehave, a stamp gets X-ed out. At the end of the semester the winner gets a “big candy.” This has created a healthy competition and a lively atmosphere.

The third class has four well-motivated and intelligent students. The crown is a young boy named Ho-ota. Ho-ota is super interested and excited about learning English. He runs into the classroom, greets me with a loud “Hello” and often leaves with a jumping high five and loud laughter. He wears an array of interesting and character portraying t-shirts. One says, “Perfection: kid running at full speed” and another says “Beetle (collecting) Champion.” He is a pleasure to have in the classroom and I greatly admire his spirit.

The fourth class is the most precocious of the week. It consists of two best friends that understand what I teach so fast that sometimes it’s difficult to fill the 40 minutes of class time. They are so high, that it is difficult to see where to push them upward to. Such is a puzzle that I have yet to complete, but I will continue to put in effort and hope a creative solution will arise.

After they leave, I clean up and head to the car. This moment brings one of two distinct feelings: exhaustion or glory.


Exhaustion has come when I was not fully prepared, had too little sleep and/or did not teach to my full ability.

Glory comes with a soothing internal fire. This feeling means that I fought with all my heart and that everyone involved learned and grew.

Thank G-d, there has been much glory.

Sankeien Park with Sekino Family

There is a well known Japanese proverb that states "ichi-go ichi-eh" or "One meeting, One face-to-face." It teaches that each encounter, whether it be a breakfast with one’s father or a one-time conversation with a stranger, carries great significance. Out of the entire expanse of history and the vast lands of the earth, each moment of meeting has been orchestrated for a purpose. It is unprecedented and unrepeatable. Because of this, the proverb teaches that one should face their conversant with full attention of mind and heart and make the most out of the encounter.

With this in mind, I spent a wondrous day with Sekino-san and Yumiko-san: two immensely loving and caring people who have treated me as their own son.

It started at Oppama station, where they picked me up and drove north to Yokohama. I sat in the backseat and we quickly got into our old conversation groove. We spoke of Japanese thinking, trees, birds and much more, learning and laughing all the way.

We arrived at Sankeien Park under cloudy skies. Such was opportune, for when the heavens are gray, the earth’s colors are more vibrant.

Sankeien Park is a large piece of property, donated by a wealthy silk merchant family in the 20th century. It has many ponds, old houses from around Japan, a bonsai exhibit and about 100 ume, or plum blossom trees.

Soon after passing the gate, we headed to a large pond and watched visitors feed its coi, or carp, and water fowl. A large pack of tufted ducks, with their yellow eyes, bluish beaks and thin black ponytails, would all swim together in the same direction. During feeding, they would paddle to the food, grab it and dive under to enjoy a private snack somewhere unbeknown to me.

After, we strolled to a bonsai tree exhibit. There were trees of various breeds, ages and sizes. Sekino-san said that some were 200-300 years old. I heard that molding and taking care of a bonsai requires a lot of work, and I hope to learn and write more of the process in the future.

Then we headed around the large pond, alongside the multitudes of blooming ume. We stopped in a small hut, where they were serving scorching hot tea next to a warming fire. Over the fire, in the center of the hut, hung a large boiling pot. The volunteers would add and take from the pot to make the tea. Such was a very nice courtesy and window into the past.

Soon after we arrived at a small museum. Inside were dozens of seasonal scroll paintings. Most portrayed the ume, next to a poem or other writing or alongside a bird. Many Japanese have the custom of making a special space in their house for the scroll painting, changing the design with the turning of the month or season. They are very fond of the seasons of nature, and changing the scroll painting is a way of bringing this feeling inside the home.

After, Sekino-san took me out to eat in Yokohama Chinatown for lunch. He bought me roasted chestnuts to give to the Matsusaki family and dropped me off at the train station on the way home.

A meeting and relationship of very high quality. Thanks to the Great Orchestrator.

Of Winter

The cold of winter in the Miura Peninsula comes in waves：three cool days, four cold days and then two mild days. Although the temperature barely dips below freezing, bitter cold comes occasionally. This is because the houses and office buildings do not have central heating and are not insulated as in America. The Japanese have small gas or oil heaters, used only at certain times and in certain rooms. Thankfully it has not broken my spirit, but getting out of the shower, or out of bed in the middle of the night can chill down to the bone.

This said, there are many inspiring points of winter time on the Miura Peninsula.

The season started with the New Year’s celebration. In Japan, such is a 4-10 day event, where families get together from all over the country to enjoy traditional activities and seasonal foods.

New Year ’s Day at the Matsusaki house began with the annual hike to Hiro-o Mountain to see the sun rise on the new year. The house was decorated with New Years’ colors (red and white) and crafts (bamboo, pine and berry creations) and special New Years’ foods (soba noodles, sweet black beans, rice cakes and much much more) were served. Family came from out-of-town and played with tops, flew kites and drew shodo characters (Each individual chose a character that represented their resolution for the coming year. For example, Oka-asan wrote “continue” and I wrote “return”).

Winter is the local area's driest season. This brings many fair and deep blue skies, which unveil views of Fujisan, the sunset and the stars.

The cold and snow of the mountains brings many birds down to the coast. Many new breeds, colors and sounds have graced the skies and trees.
Also, the air is often crisp. I have greatly enjoyed the feeling of walking home from the car at the end of a well fought day; bundled up, with the scent of winter in my nose, its fresh air in my lungs and its slight breeze on my face.

As with the other seasons, winter has its special flowers. The most prized blooming is the ume, or plum blossom, but the Japanese always like to fill their street sides and personal gardens with flowers. A popular seasonal potted plant is an import from the Mediterranean known as shikuramen. It is a strong flower that comes in many different colors and blooms vertical petals that appear as flames.

Thank G-d, winter has brought much blessing and joy. May safe, healthy and fruitful days continue in the coming spring.

Zushi

I moved into Zushi town in mid-December and it has quickly become one of the most fascinating places that I have ever lived.

Before painting its picture, it is important to note that Zushi has a “town feel.” Compared to the streets of Tokyo and Yokohama and Yokosuka suburbs, the people are friendly. Many shops are local and each house and garden has a distinct character. There are few street lamps outside the town center and the nights are dark and quiet. I live near a set of school grounds, and I often see children walking and families supporting their children’s sporting events on the weekends.

Zushi town’s main draw is its beach. Within an hour southwest of Tokyo, scores of youths travel down on hot summer days. The waves are small, but the waters glow sky blue just after sunset. The sand is brown and the waves wash up many colors of shells, stones and seaweeds onto the shore. Windy days attract windsurfers and surfers, even in the winter. The beach itself faces west and offers brilliant views of the setting sun and Fujisan. In fact, this past Sunday about 100 people watched it set with red radiant clouds and a full seven color rainbow.

Just a short climb from the beach is Hiro-o Yama Park. Sitting atop a tall coastal hill, the park has postcard views of Fujisan behind the green cliffs and blue crashing waters of Sagami bay. It has a small animal park with birds, turtles and Japanese macaque monkeys (of which I will write more of in the future).

The bustling town area is centered around two train lines. Surrounding are small surf shops, groceries, flower shops, antique shops and a large variety of small businesses. Also, there are noodle and sushi shops as well as Italian, Thai and French restaurants and bakeries. Nearby is Zushi Plaza, which houses a library, town meeting center for government, recreation and hobby groups and an indoor swimming pool.

I live a mile inland from the beach, amidst thickly forested hillsides. I have traveled a few times to a forested area named Nagoye. This past week I went up into its bamboo forest. I climbed a steep hillside, using bamboo stumps and shoots as my ladder, and sat for some time amidst the wondrous vegetation. The wind would blow strong, loudly rustling its leaves and bending the tall, skinny and hallow poles back and forth. It felt like the massive steel-hard trunks could snap and fall at any moment, but its roots held strong and I was safe.

Above the bamboo forest, is a set of tiered rice and vegetable fields. An old man and woman farm the property with a group of young field hands. The old man is skinny and wears a big green brimmed cap that could have been taken from a farmer in the cornhusks of Nebraska. The woman is bent and wears a head rag. She has yelled at me to leave the property a couple of times, but her husband cools her down and smiles.

The big attraction of the area is its old white ume, or plum blossoms. I have become close to the ume: watching its white flowers against the deep blue sky, its petals glow translucent against the sun or mejiro hop from branch to branch.
Thus is the extent of my knowledge of Zushi town. I hope to stay for the Spring and write of the changes.