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.