My students never cease to be a source of delight to me.  Yesterday one of my JJs was trying to describe the taste of a certain kind of persimmon.  She couldn’t recall the word for “sour” no matter how hard she tried.  Finally she blurted out, “It’s mouth-pucking!”  Yeah, I know the feeling, babe.

I’ve done a lot of thinking and soul-searching about this matter.  You asked me, what’s really bugging me about the job, and what can I do to change it?  I don’t have any solutions yet, but I’ve narrowed the problems down to three main issues:

1.  As I have already mentioned to you, quitting is not an option.  Doing so would seriously damage the reputation of the school.  Hence I feel pressured and put upon.  The bosses and staff are doing everything in their power to soothe and appease me (well, reinforcing the doors would be a good start).   They don’t want me to quit.  And I don’t want to let them down.  Let’s just say that right now, quitting is not an option.   That makes me feel trapped.

2.  In total, I have 50 kids there.  Roughly half of them are private school and the other half are public.  Reconciling the level gap between them – and it’s a substantial one - is hard work for me.  Put it this way: with the private school first-graders, I can immediately start with teaching them simple phrases and basic abstract concepts, because almost all of them have at least a couple of years of cram school under their belts, not to mention several overseas trips.  However, with the public school kids, I have to spend months actually teaching them to sit still and concentrate for five minutes at a time.  Then?  We finally start with the alphabet.  You see what I mean?  I have a mix of all these kids in the same classes, and I’m expected to use the same textbooks for them all.

3.  The biggest and most pressing problem is simply an architectural one: I have to share a floor with several other teachers and classes, and our rooms are separated only by thin plywood walls.  The other teachers are mainly interns (student teachers from a local uni, average age 20) and they are not good at handling the kids.  Some of the time – well actually most of the time – they completely lose control of their classes.  The noise level is horrific.  I find this deeply stressful, hence the hissyfits and the slammed/broken (crappy plywood) doors.  Unfortunately this particular problem is the least likely to be solved, without major renovations taking place.  But for me, it’s a big problem.  It’s the real reason I’m so stressed and unhappy there.

Thanks for all and any input.

Don’t tell a soul, but my biggest fantasy is this: being accidentally locked in my local IKEA for a whole night, all by myself.   I shouldn’t want for anything, certainly not food.  I’d gorge myself on smoked salmon.  I’d open all the closets, roll out all the rugs, and try out all the beds, blankets, and chairs.  I’d light a few hundred scented tea candles, and pop open a few bottles of “Glogg” (nasty cheap spicy wine, I love it).  I’d run up and down the stairs just for the hell of it.  I’d have a blast. 

And if I got bored, I’d have a go at reading the Swedish books placed in the display model rooms.   I’ve noticed that many of them are picture books, and feature all manner of strange-looking humanoid creatures, especially trolls and dwarves.  They fascinate me.

Hey, do you think it might happen if I hide in the loo until closing time?

I don’t want to sound like a bore, but I was wondering if you would be interested in hearing about my recent work/life updates:

1.  The splintering (or should that be “balkinization?”) of JJ’s continues ever further, with four distinct factions forming, which are keeping me very, very busy, swallowing up two weekday mornings and all of my weekends, on top of my regular schedule.  They are a dynamic crowd, and I’m being tugged in all directions; I’ve honestly never been this popular in my life!  I’d like to flatter myself that my esteemed customers are genuinely attracted to my dazzling wit and sparkling personality, not to mention my prized hankie collection, but sadly I have to admit that they are only using me to get back at each other (as evidenced by the fact that they are always trying to pick information out of me about what the “others” are doing, and then ostentatiously one-upping them).  Wow.  I thought I left all this shit behind me in high school … except I was never this popular in high school.  And neither were my hankies.

2.  Junko, my former partner, is in hiding and refusing to come out and talk to anyone except me.  Her nose is seriously out of joint!  I hope she fixes it soon.  Last week her best friend called me all concerned, and told me that Junko has not shown up at the gym/neighbourhood coffee klatches for several weeks, and is not returning any phone calls or emails.   I told her to give it some time, and mumbled something about a sick grandmother (yes, they use that excuse in Japan too).   I’m not getting involved in this shit!  Like I said, I left it all behind in high school … shame they didn’t.

3.  The mums-and-babes group finally starts next Thursday, on an irregular basis.  Junko will secretly join us (well, we are the only JJs who haven’t pissed her off) and I’m now brushing up on my nursery rhymes and dusting off my old story books.  I’m really eager to work with little kids again!  So much less complicated than adults.  And far smarter, too.

4.  I broke another door at the cram school, and I feel terrible about it.  The kids are really understanding, and the bosses are pretending to be so.  (Will post more about this situation later.) 

5.  Ten days ago one of my best friends left her husband and two children and ran off to Thailand.  Now she emails me daily asking about them.  And that’s all I’m going to say about that. 

6.  I’ve started tutoring a group of Korean kids in a working-class district of Osaka every Wednesday evening.   I do it partly out of guilt, but mainly because I genuinely like them and their parents.  (The history of Korean immigrants to Japan is a long, sad and tumultous one, and I’ll be sure to post about it some day.) 

7.  Some of my private students have told me that I’m overdoing it and becoming a workaholic.  Hah!  This from Japanese people?

8.  This morning Ben woke up, yawned, scratched, and ignored me for the rest of the day.

9.  Ditto Sonbeam.  As with every day.  Some things never change, and that’s a blessing.

10.  My 25 ladies are as wise, wonderful and beautiful as ever. I don’t know where I’d be without them.  Or without you guys, for that matter.

And that’s it for now.  I’ll post more when something interesting happens.

The daughter & husband, Nicole & Steven, are on their trip to Maui. They flew into Maui Saturday, 3 days ahead of the scheduled trip, which she won (along with 50 other Dell employees) for making high sales. One of her best friends is presently living on Oahu. So, Sunday, Nicole & Steven boarded a plane from Maui to Oahu, to stay Sunday & Monday with the friend, till the rest of the Dell group got to Maui.

We all know by now all the restrictions on what may be carried on an airplane. There have been stories of 80 year old grannies having their knitting needles confiscated, etc. Well, Steven had forgotten he had a pair of secateurs (for Americans, hand pruning shears) in his backpack. He doesn’t even remember why he put them in there, or when. The TSA security didn’t even notice them in the security check at the Austin airport. But at the security check in Kahului, Maui, before they boarded the plane to Honolulu, a screener saw them. One of the TSA agents got them out of his backpack and looked at them. Then gave them back to him. He actually tried to get them to confiscate them, but they wouldn’t. They did, however, confiscate his shaving lotion and shaving gel, because they were in bottles larger than 4 oz. He meant to give the secateurs to the friend in Oahu while he was there, and forgot. So, back at the airport to leave Honolulu, security saw them on the X-ray machine – again. Then, they couldn’t find them in the bag and had to take everything out. Finally, the offending clippers were located. This time he persuaded the TSA to confiscate them.

I know I feel safer now. They’re really on the ball at the airport.

In recent weeks, I’ve had several medical tests done. There are no problems, these are just routine tests people my age are supposed to have. Since I have high blood pressure, the doctor decided I needed an EKG, an electrocardiogram, and a heart CT scan. I did just fine on all of them. The CT scan showed a slight build up of calcium in my right aortic branch. It’s minor, and I will probably have to take something like Zocor or Lipitor to halt the accumulation. But it’s certainly nothing that will require surgery. I do have a heart stress test on June 23. That will be a more definitive test. I also had a mammogram, which showed some calcification in my left breast. Also, no big deal. They are very common, and never turn cancerous. Then today, I had my first ever colonoscopy. I got an A+ (I refer to it as my rectal report card). Absolutely no anomalies. I’m quite pleased with all the outcomes. I didn’t think I had any problems in any of the body parts tested, but it’s always nice to be proven right.

The colonoscopy was at 6 a. m. this morning. Of course, I had been toilet-trotting for about 12 hours, was starving (no food, just liquid for about 30 hours), sleepy, and decidedly grumpy from no coffee. The nurse asked, “How are you doing today?” I snarled, “Rhetorical question, right?”

Seriously, this thing reads like a dirty joke. I’ve looked on line and can’t find any verification or source. I have no idea if it’s really true, but it’s a hell of a story.

A couple of days ago I wandered into a small regional museum featuring a small but significant exhibition entitled “Surrealism.”  Now, I’m not a great fan of “surrealism” (my real life is surreal enough, thank you very much) nor “art” that looks like the sort of thing painted by a three-year-old let loose with a box of crayons on a living room wall … but this stuff was simply amazing.  On show were individual works by Joan Miro, Paul Klee, Andre Masson, Rene Magritte (pictured),  Man Ray, Marcel Duchamp – who I honestly thought was a mime artist until now! – and some dozen pieces by a bloke called Max Ernst, who instantly won my heart with his beautiful, honest black and white sketches.  All this, along with a bunch of other artists, mainly European and American, that you’ve never heard of before.  For five bucks a pop.

And people wonder why I stay in Japan?

So, yesterday, I was ambling down the “Pet supplies” aisle at the grocery store, and there on the shelf was a bag of cracked corn. I had this burning urge to write “And I don’t care” on a post it note and stick it on the bag. I’m still considering going back and doing it.

Today heralds the official end of my birthday.  I got a free full body massage, pedicure, and reflexology session from Murata-san, for being such a good customer.  It lasted for three hours.  For the first time, I noticed that there are distinct themes to my massage sessions.  It’s a total sensory experience.  For example, today’s theme was “roses.”  My footbath had fresh rose petals in it.  The massage oil was essence of rose.  My slippers were adorned with roses, and so were the curtains, and the towels in the bathroom.  The magazines in the waiting room were all about roses and rose festivals.  The after-massage sweet was a pink cake delicately shaped like a rose, and my takeaway gift was a package of rose-hip tea, a small rose-shaped soap, and a small vial of rose oil. 

Other themes in the past:  Rainforest, Scandinavia, Lavender, Bali (my favourite, because I love gamelan), English Garden (the curtains and cushions were especially beautiful), Clouds, China (great tea), and on one memorable occasion, Kenya Safari (the sound effects were incredible!). 

In fact, the only thing she hasn’t done is Japan.  Or America, or Germany, or NZ for that matter. 

Perhaps it’s just as well.  What would a NZ-themed massage session be like? 

No, I don’t really want to know.