So, I really should be in bed, but I can't get the events of today out of my head, and I don't really want to until I write them down, so I'm sitting at the computer with bloodshot eyes and eager fingers. Where to start...Well, those of you that know me well know my love for movies. I can't get enough of them. I used to see them as a frivolous pass time, but after I (by default) changed my degree focus to film, I began to appreciate them in a new way. I realized that watching a movie with someone is a bonding experience. As you are watching, you go through similar emotions together, creating a (sometimes profound and long-lasting) link between you. This is especially true when the people you are watching with don't speak your language. Today, due to the fact that it is discussed in the text book, I watched E.T. with my 2 nen sei class (2nd, or 8th grade by the U.S. system), in English, with Japanese subtitles. I was exciting about the prospect of seeing a movie with them, but didn't really expect all that I experienced today. We met in the science room, due to technical difficulties with the regular room's TV, and began watching from the scene in the forest, where E.T. is trying to send messages to his family. Since I've seen the movie so many times, my attention was quickly drawn away from the black box at the front of the room, and turned to the faces of the students around me. Now, this class has been my favorite since my first week here. Today strengthened that. As my eyes swept the room, the first face I stopped at was one of my favorite "squirt" boys, named Kazuma. His eyes were glued to the TV, mouth slightly open, ends tipped up in a transfixed smile, and eyebrows raised in eager anticipation. The look on his face somehow revealed the spirit that I believe lives inside him, and most of the students I teach from day to day. It was a look of preserved child-likeness. Innocent hope and expectancy for things to come. It has not been polluted by a culture that encourages "toughening" or "learning to do it yourself" at all costs. This 14-year-old was not hindered in openly displaying his boyish joy. Neither were two other boys, who were sitting across from the table from me. The first boy's name is Kohei. He is a natural leader. Though he is a goofball most of the time, he is serious about baseball, and studies very hard. He is one of the tallest in his class, and his stature is a little more "distinguished." The second boy's name is Kenta. In many ways he is the opposite of Kohei. He is short for his age, and has a slight handicap in his lip, which sometimes gives his speech a sort of slur. He is not as quick as most of the students, and it is not an uncommon occurrence for him to hand in a paper to me with only one or two answers marked. He tries very hard, though. He is always asking help from other students and friends in his class, and some of the boys have taken him "under their wing," with, what I sense as, the desire to protect his innocent spirit from the harsher and more difficult things in life. As the movie began, I noticed Kenta lean back on Kohei's chest, much like you might see a young son do with his daddy. This is not too uncommon for me to see, because the students, even the boys, are quite affectionate with each other. What surprised me was that he stayed there through the entire movie, occasionally leaning his head on Kohei's shoulder, and even at one point, receiving Kohei's embrace around his neck. Granted, these tender moments were sprinkled with good-natured punching every few minutes, but I was captivated, even moved to the point of tears, by the tender affection shown between these two 8th grade boys. They openly exposed their intimate friendship with each other without fear, reservation, or shame. The girls, too, revealed their emotions in ways I did not quite expect. I am a "blub" when it comes to movies, even ones I have seen umpteen times, so I was careful to set my jaw and hold back my tears during the sentimental parts. I figured that, living in a culture in which emotional displays are generally frowned upon, other students would find it odd, and even embarassing, to discover their teacher teary-eyed during a science fiction movie. I was wrong. To my surprise, with melting heart, and (at this point), involuntarily teary eyes, as I looked around, I beheld the watery eyes of a few girls. Then I heard a few sniffles. Then a few more. Soon I realized that every girl in the room was crying. Every one. When Tamaki sensei asked me later how I enjoyed watching the movie with the students, I wasn't quite sure what to say. I told her it was wonderful, but a little difficult to explain. "Well," I said, "I think it's because usually I can't tell what the students are really thinking or feeling. But today, when we watched the movie together, I could see the looks on their faces, and I knew we were feeling the same things - together." As I'm typing this, I am starting to realize that though it was difficult to explain to my co-teacher, it may be even more difficult for you, the reader, to understand what an impact this had on me. Let's just say, when you live, day in, day out, with people who you're not sure ever really understand who you are, what you're saying, what you're doing, what you're thinking, being able to experience and feel something truly together is good. Very good.

It occurred to me while writing an email earlier that I may never have actually outlined a typical day for anyone who might read this thing. So, please allow me to elaborate. I try to keep it concise, but, if you read this at all on a regular basis, you know I’m not so good at that… Usually my three alarms go off around 6:15-6:30ish. Half the time I sleep through them, but when I don’t, I turn on my heat (we turn it off at night to save energy, which means my apartment can be in the 40s or 50s in the morning), and head to the shower. To get to the shower, I leave my bedroom through a sliding, Japanese-style glass door, and enter my camper-sized, unheated bathroom. Not fun. Especially in January and February – ice has been rumored to have been discovered on some of the apartments’ bathroom floors in the morning. But there’s lots of hot water, so I am thankful. At around 6:45, usually while I’m still getting ready, the other junior high teachers (5) arrive at my apartment for morning prayer. This has been a blessing to all of us – to have time to focus on important things before we rush off into a world that hustles and bustles, most of which we can’t really understand. Then, depending on which day it is, I head off to either Segawa Jr. High School, or Funehiki Jr. High School. Segawa Jr. High has about 75 kids in all three grades (7th-9th, what they term 1st-3rd because each level starts the numbering over – thus in high school they start again at grade “1”.) Funehiki has somewhere around 450 kids, so there’s quite a difference in atmosphere. Segawa is more traditional, but also more family-like. Funi-chu (short for Funehiki chu-gakko) is more casual, with more individual freedom because there’s too many people to keep track of everyone closely. When going to Segawa, I take a kindgergarten bus on its route to pick kids up in the morning. By the time I get to school, two adorable 3-year-old boys have joined me on the ride, and politely greeted me with “Ohaiyou gozaimasu,” the Japanese equivalent of “good morning.” So, when we pull up to the school, I thank the bus driver, and add “Ittekimasu” meaning “I’m leaving, then coming back,” and he replies with “Itterashai,” telling me, “yes, please do go and come back.” This was, needless to say, very odd for me at first. I kept thinking, “of course I’m leaving and coming back! Do you think I’m going to stay there?!” But, it’s polite. So I learn. When I step inside both schools (Funi-chu I walk to), the first thing I do is change my shoes. We have separate shoes for indoor and outdoor use. This, too, I found strange at first, but when I see the kind of mud that accompanies a good thaw around here, I realize the value in the exchange of footwear. So, my shoes in place, I head to the teachers’ office. The teachers in the schools here all use one office, with the desks arranged in some sort of pattern, side to side, all crammed together. It’s a big cluttered mess, if you ask me, but it seems to work. So, I enter the office, and loudly proclaim, “Ohaiyou gozaimasu” to anyone within earshot, and they promptly respond likewise, because it’s polite to greet everyone when you first meet them throughout the day. Because I usually arrive before most teachers, after I get settled, I usually try to find something to look busy with for the time between my arrival and the beginning of 1st period. There is a short homeroom class first, so I have a lot of time to fill with my pretend business. I usually just end up staring at the wall for a while, still not quite awake… Then classes begin. At Segawa, the most classes I can have in one day is 3, because there is only one class for each grade. (This leaves even more time for me to stare at the wall or try, usually unsuccessfully, to look busy) At Funehiki, technically I could have as many as 6, but since Tammy (the other Assistant Language Teacher at Funi-chu) and I split the load, it usually ends up being somewhere around 2-3. During class, I enter with the head teacher (a Japanese teacher that I work with), and the students all stand up. “Good morning Miss Hori!” They announce. And class proceeds after we have asked the weather, date and day. During class we usually do some sort of reading from the text book, then they either have to do memorizing exercises, or repeat after me, or copy stuff into their notebook (the ineffectiveness of the teaching methods and the lack of any desire to change them infuriates me, but that’s another post)…so, then at the end of class, the students all stand up again, and tell me, “Goodbye, Miss Hori!” It kinda sounds like they’re marching with their voices when they say it. They haven’t quite mastered the sing-song tone of English yet… The noon bell goes off at, well, noon, and the whole city gets excited (yes, the song reaches everyone in the city, it’s like a community alarm), that lunch is coming soon. Well, actually, usually everyone is totally consumed with their work and doesn’t even stir. But I get excited that lunch is coming soon, because I don’t usually have much to do. I usually eat lunches with one of the classes. I’m on a “schedule” at both schools so I can spend a little bit more time with the students on a more personal level. All sorts of things happen during this hour, from observing crazy 9th graders play some sort of tackle game, to asking a sweet 8th grade girl advise for my Spring Break trip to Kyoto. I love lunch! After all the classes are finished, osouji commences. This is cleaning time. Everyone participates. Even the principle and vice principle. Everyone (except me, I can’t get myself to do it) puts on a silly white cap to designate this as a “special time,” and begins to complete his or her assigned task. I help sweep the library at Segawa, and usually “help clean a classroom” at Funi-chu. The reason I “help clean” there is because Tammy and I managed to find the group of kids without a teacher chaperone, which means that we have a lot of fun basically giggling and goofing off for ½ hour… At the end of the day, the kids have homeroom again, and then clubs. The clubs can last up to 3 hours long, and the kids are DEDICATED. They do crazy things like go barefooted in an unheated gym to practice karate in the middle of winter. They play their instruments outside (in January), and other insane things that I really don’t want to participate in between the months of November and March. So, usually I stay where there’s a heater or, if it’s 4:15 or later, I head home, making sure to announce, “Osakini shitsureishimasu” as I leave the teachers’ office, backing out as I bow, letting them know, “how rude I am for leaving before them.” So, that’s my day. Of course, it’s always sprinkled with other random events and happenings, like right now – three former Segawa Jr. High students (high schoolers now) are peeking through the teachers’ room window, waving at me, and giggling when I wave back (did I mention two of them are boys – probably about 17 years old). Though the routine stays the same, nothing is what I would term “ordinary.” As Tricia says, “My time here has ceased to become ‘life in Japan’ and now is just ‘life,’” but it’s definitely life filled with the random, the odd, and sometimes, yes, the ridiculous and absurd. Maybe eventually it will just become normal. I hope not.

This was inspired by my brother Chris. His recent blog reminded me of it, and I think it speaks volumes about life, and God, and trying to please people all the time. Let's just say I had a rough day. Maybe you'll hear more about it when my brain re-molds it into a piece of humor. Until then...Walt Whitman When I heard the Learn’d Astronomer WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer; When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick; Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

The Nutcase So, after all is said and done, I’ve come to one great conclusion: I am an idiot. This realization I have come to before, but never with such a blast of humiliation. I’ve heard some of you say (or rather, read some of you write) that at times, in the office, you occasionally snicker or smile in weird ways, which evokes curious glances, or slightly irritated stares in your direction. Well, I’m sure I’ve topped you all. Two days in a row, in fact, have I topped you. So, Tammy and I have been discussing how allegories are a wonderful thing, and how they make difficult concepts seem more comprehensible. So, we began brainstorming about different objects to link with each unique personality in our group. Tammy, as was realized by Cristy, strongly resembles origami. Though tender and fragile, because of the “folds” God has made in her life, she has become quite resilient and can endure much hardship with strength and perseverance. This being such a wonderful description of her spirit, Tammy and I set out to try to find an object to characterize me. We thunk and we thunk, till our brains were all thunked out, but ultimately came up with nothing except for something like “porcupine” since I’m often rather gruff when I first meet people. But, we ultimately gave that one up, because a porcupine has no desirable thing behind the gruffness, just a dangerous, prickly animal. So we forgot about it. Until yesterday. In the past two weeks, I have been venturing to put to rights my complete detestation of Little Women. Having only seen the movie, and being highly disturbed after each viewing, I resolved to read the book, and hopefully discover it more entertaining, and ultimately more fulfilling, than the Hollywood version of the classic. So I asked for the novel for Christmas, and my brother Chris, being the fellow literature lover that he is, indulged me. After falling in love with the book, for it is, in fact, very different from the film, I realized that I have many similarities to the often boyish, brash, and act-without-thinking Jo March. Therefore, you can imagine my excitement when, toward the end of the book, Jo’s sister suggests an object that well describes her character, saying, “You are like a chestnut burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel, if one can only get at it.” “That’s it!” thought I. But unfortunately, less than a second later, I proved myself a little too like Jo’s character, when, impulsively, without any trace of forethought, (in the teachers office) I exclaimed, gesticulating enthusiastically with my non-book-filled hand “That’s it! Tammy, I’m a chestnut!” Yes, that was bad. It was very bad. And I believe in the next few seconds I was more of a beet than a chestnut. I sank down in my chair a bit, chiding myself for how silly and impetuous I allow myself to be, and determining to not let such an outburst of emotion occur again. Especially in the all-formal, Japanese teacher’s room. But like I said, my character is all too much like Jo March. Today I finished the novel, and was looking for something to do during the “just-finished-book slump” that inevitably came on afterwards, so I got on the internet to check my email. I was pleasantly surprised to receive a message from one of my good friends in Mansfield, and even more surprised (in fact, shocked out of my pants might be a bit mild) to read therein that one of my friends is expecting a child, good friends of mine are considering lives as missionaries, and yet two more friends, who just started dating before I left for Japan, are now engaged. What I should have done was maybe raise my eyebrows a little and squash the surge of astonishment that bolted through my body. I should have waited until later to express my surprise. Instead, I sat there, mouth dropped as far as my jaw would allow, and made some sort of loud hard-breathing noise, as if I was hyperventilating and would soon collapse if I didn’t gulp in air in a panting furry. Before I realized what I was doing, it was too late. The teacher next to me, concern seeping from her furrowed brows, asked me with deepest sympathy, “Are you ok?!” I don’t really know if I’m ok. I’m incurably plagued by the disease of idiocy. How do you explain that in Japanese?

Last Wednesday our dear friend Tammy turned 24 years old--an age none of us, not even her, can believe she's reached. Now, before you throw a hissy fit, screaming, "That's not old! What are you talking about?!" let me explain that it's because this cute, pixyish, toe-head blonde is very young at heart, and, sorry Tammy, sometimes a bit naive, too. Which made her surprise parties a lot easier. For everyone's birthday, since it's difficult to be away from home, we usually hold a party the date the event actually occurred, and do an additional something-or-other on one of the weekends close to that day. This could be anything from ice skating (Tricia) to just eating (me ) depending on the preference of the honored individual. In Tammy's case, all she requested was that she not have to plan anything and suggested that a surprise might be nice. We rose to the challenge...four times over. The list of surprises we managed to keep that way are as follows: 1.Subs on her actual birthday. She's not a whiny person, but I do think I remember several long sighs as the word "Subway" rolled off her drooling tongue on several occasions. 2. Buying her own birthday present. Yes. I kid you not. Lis asked Tammy to buy lotion for her [Lis], and to pick whatever scent she [Tammy] liked. You should have seen the look on Tammy's face when she opened it! 3. A surprise chili lunch on Saturday. She thought she was going to Cristy's apartment to get her hair done for salsa dancing. 4. Salsa dancing. There was none. Even though we all dressed up hot and cute to make the facade believable, we knew Tammy was concerned that not everyone would enjoy such an activity, so, knowing she wouldn't have fun unless we were all having fun, we took her bowling instead. In our dancing get-ups. She didn't know we were bowling until we were actually inside the alley because we covered her eyes the last 1/8 mile The web of lies we had to weave was quite intricate to keep her from finding us out - and I'm sure they didn't all agree, but Tammy, being the true, trusting friend that she is, took us at our word every time. Thus, I think her requests were met - she had no clue about anything. Yesterday was good, too, but in different ways. We had our second high school Bible study, our first having been held last Sunday. Last week we had the kids (five of them - four boys and one girl) draw pictures of who or what they thought God was. We got a variety of responses - one example being a light shining in the sky, but most drawings were mixed with a bit of what I perceived as "I really have no idea." So, this week, we began to talk about/teach on what God is - what defines him as a being. Here are our points if you're interested: There is one God God has many names He has no beginning and no end Nothing made God and he was before everything He knows everything He is everywhere He can do anything He is invisible God loves all people God loves___(your name)___ It's incredible how amazing these strike you as when you actually teach them. Having grown up in the church, I don't remember a time when I was first made aware of these truths. But. Wow. We were praying God would supernaturally make things clear that we could not even really explain to someone in their native tongue, but we weren't sure if the kids were really processing much of what we said until the questions began. Just the fact that they asked questions is amazing, Japanese people being usually so reserved, but then we thought about what they were asking and we were pretty much floored. Q#1 Why is God a "he"? Q#2 Does God love Saddam Hussein [the same way he loves all people]? Q#3 Does God love trees less than he loves people? Why? Really think about these questions...how would you answer them? Then think about your answers - especially to #s 2 and 3. When you try to explain these things to fresh minds who have never heard such things before, it makes you really think about what you're saying. I serve a God who has no start or end, who knows everything from the number of stars in the sky to my deepest secrets, who is in this room with me as I write just as he is in heaven, who is able to split an ocean in half or move the mountain outside my apartment window with nothing more than a whisper, and who loves someone like Saddam Hussein, like me, enough to put himself through unfathomable amounts of pain, torture and anguish. So that we might be forgiven. So that we might know him. So that we might call him Lord, Daddy, Friend. Think about it...

A pose with the birthday girl...aaaawww

A stroll afterward to THE Mall

Leading Tammy (with her eyes closed) to her afternoon of "salsa dancing"

Patty showing off her oh-so-sexy shoes

Since it's Wednesday, and a new month has dawned, I decided it might be good, ok, whatever, to scribble (can you scribble on a keyboard?) some notes about my weekend. It's true. I live weekend to weekend. Not that the weekly stuff isn't important, but it all runs together, and by Friday ends up some sort of hurried smudge of hours in my head. Last weekend was good, though. Both thought-provoking and encouraging - always a good combination. Friday night a few of us got together in my apartment to watch To End All Wars together. (I've noticed a theme in our Friday night "flings," they haven't been so light-hearted lately. Last week it was Hotel Rwanda). I am very thankful that, like me, so many of my teammates don't always approach movies with a "now it's time to turn my brain off" mentality. Those few hours on Friday night were no exception. If you have not seen either of these movies, I would highly recommend them, especially To End All Wars. It asks some deep questions, and stirs you in ways that you will still be processing a week later. Just some of the (actually voiced) questions are: What is the final destination of hatred? At what point does a man lose his dignity? What does it mean to love one's enemies? At what price mercy? A long discussion of these things ensued after the credits. Again, Adriane and I pondered over deeper issues of life, and wondered, Can we really answer such questions without having experienced something of what these men went through? And if we had experienced such tribulation, how would we answer those who asked such questions and had not been through it themselves? I suggested that we would answer with more questions, which would provoke the inquirers to think for themselves. This may or may not be a good reply, I don't know. Then it occurred to me that the "answer" to these seemingly unanswerable questions could not be words at all. The answer is, and always will be, as long as evil rests on the Earth, a person. All our deepest, gut-wrenching fears, all our monstrous, devouring sin is answered in a person. Our only hope, to which we cling with feeble, wretched hands is Jesus Christ. He is the answer. It sounds so cheesy. So Sunday school. But it's true. He really is The Way, The Truth, The Life. All else fades, falls away, and becomes meaningless. He alone remains. The rest of my weekend - trips to Kouriyama, sushi bars, friends, also seem meaningless in light of this profound Truth. I did have a lot of fun this weekend, and was blessed by marvelous bouts of rest and laughter. But instead of leaving you with great, wordy details about the jolly but frivolous parts of my two days off, I'll leave you with the thought-provoking and genuinely hope-filled. When all is said and done, nothing else remains anyway.