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.