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.

Of the Ascent

The winter brought a great fire that moved my heart and its desires for the future. Its impact brought great inspiration to accelerate my religious practice.

A twist in fate brought an early leaving date from the Matsuzaki Home and a soon-coming move back to the Matty's Dorm. I decided to take the opportunity to begin a stricter observance of the kosher eating laws.

(This means to not only forgo eating pig or shellfish, but all that is produced without the strict observance of a Rabbi specialist. Because of this, I will be getting most of my food from the Chabad Houses in Tokyo. In order to kosher cooking and eating utensils, they must be purchased anew, immersed in a body of water [at least the size of a large hot tub], and blessed.)

On the night after Purim, I set out on the task of koshering newly purchased cooking and eating utensils. I packed the large front basket of my bike with a glass, bowl, spoon, chopstick set, knife, cutting board, a pan and its cover and three plastic containers and headed to Zushi Beach.

Winter had not fully let go, and there was a strong wind and slight chill in the air. The moon was full and peaking in and out from behind a partly overcast sky.

As I rode onward, I felt very strong. I was fulfilling a command of G-d; on a mission from the Most High.

I arrived at the beach. It was desolate. The clouds were intense and the wind was howling. Afternoon showers left the sand soft and wet and a 20 foot long, two inch deep pool between the naked sand and the shoreline.

I had no choice but to take off my shoes and socks and wade through. As I laid down the bike and made three sets of piles, the clouds parted and the moon shined in full brilliance.

Then I walked in with prayer book in hand. It was dark and difficult to stay dry, but thankfully nothing was lost or damaged. I immersed the vessels, loudly recited the blessings above the waves and wind and headed home. I did not feel cold for a moment.

Back at the house, I went straight to the shower and washed the sand off myself and that which I had just blessed.

As I dried them off, the vessels appeared to glisten. Soon after I went to sleep, with a sated heart.

Love and sacrifice feed each other.

Shodo (Part II)

As written earlier, I have been practicing calligraphy with my home stay father, or Oto-osan. He has introduced me to a style and set of techniques that have taken my ability to the next level.

The style is a mix between kai-sho (common script) and gyo-sho (cursive script) and includes four characters on one page.

This format has also introduced me to the Japanese art of the four character idiom. The following is the meanings of works of this page (top right, bottom right, top left, bottom left). “No break, No bend.” “One will, master (of) the heart.” “Taiko (Drumming), soul beating.” and “Initial will, penetrates the completion.”

Oto-osan taught me a number of techniques that have greatly increased the quality of my work. The most important is the step-by-step process of making each individual stroke. First, push the brush down from a 90 degree angle, hold for one second, then move and pause for one second at the end and lift up. (I believe such is good guidance for handling the ventures of life. First, pause for contemplation and decide the right course of action. Then move forward without looking back. At the end, take a moment to make sure everything went well and then move on.)

As we learn, Oto-osan often spouts pearls of brilliant wisdom and inspiration with his low deep voice. He has said, “write small, looks big,” “continue is power,” and “concentrate, practice, concentrate, practice.”

One night he told me, “flavorman, is a gentleman.” At the time, I nodded and laughed, but didn’t understand what he meant until after much contemplation.

I always envisioned flavor as the “bam” spice of Emeril Legasse, which is anything but what we think of as gentle. After thinking further, I understood that flavor is not dependent on extremes of hotness or sweetness.

Flavor is a refined taste that comes from harmony with and consideration of the other foods. Something stolid、dry and innovative has no flavor, but neither does an overpowering spice.

In the same way, a person could have a fiery personality, and bring loud laughter and joy, but if he or she does not consider the feelings of others, his presence can spoil the atmosphere. As making careful combinations of spices, herbs, and base foods, makes a delicious meal, the gentle nature of a flavorman takes a group of individuals and makes a family.

Thank G-d, I have had extraordinary teachers. May such fortune continue.

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.