Let me tell you something. I love my job- LOVE it. The past few weeks have been especially rewarding because I am finally beginning to see students retaining what I have taught them, I have gotten to know them better, and today I had a meeting with my Board of Education colleagues to review my teaching practices. I am incredibly lucky for my placement because Yokohama-machi is more than accommodating when it comes to encouraging my teaching development and allowing me to experiment with different English class activities. Most JETs don't get the level of autonomy that has been given to me by my Board of Education and I am very appreciative of this. So appreciative, in fact, that I have decided to stay for a second year.
There is another, lesser known reason why I love my job. I get to be a child again. I get to run around, laugh at silly jokes, and play games. Today I got to be a first grader. It has been snowing for about five days straight. There is a LOT of snow. Luckily, Aomori Prefecture is well equipped with "heat-tech" undershirts, snow pants, and GIANT snow plows that enable everyone to drive through a raging blizzard to work and school as though it were any other day. While having to drive on icy roads with a layer of freshly fallen snow on top is more terrifying than exciting, playing in the snow at recess is INCREDIBLY exciting. Today, as a first grader, I went sledding.
I was walking through the freezing cold hallway reflecting on how smart I was to have worn my heat-tech undershirt and pants to school when one of the teachers pointed outside to a band of children running waist-deep through snow. They were blazing a path through the untouched white expanse, a steep hill awaiting them at the opposite end of the schoolyard. Yellow, blue, and orange plastic sleds flopped around, trailing the excited children. My heart started beating faster. I really was smart to have worn my heat-tech underclothes. I put on two jackets, my rain boots, and one glove (I lost the other one), and hightailed it after the children. The last thing I remember was the second grade teacher and secretary looking at me with amusement, unsure if they had heard me correctly when I said in English, "I want to sled!"
Next thing I knew, I was standing on top of a hill that looked much steeper from the top than across the schoolyard. The children, too, seemed confused as to why I was there, why this overexcited foreign teacher was scrambling up a hill, sinking into the snow as though it were quicksand. In retrospect, they may have been more confused as to why I was in three feet of snow with dress pants and rain boots as opposed to proper snow pants and snow boots, like they are required to wear. Before long, a first-grader told me to join him on his sled. I went from being the awkward loser to the cool new kid. After that other kids asked me to push them down the hill or ride with them.
Recess was awesome. There was the right amount of snow for sledding and the hill had the perfect steepness. Floating snowflakes drifted down from the gray sky and landed on our mittens. The white schoolyard engulfed us in all its glory; endless opportunity for building snowmen, snowball fights, sledding, skiing, anything awaited us in a schoolyard that once looked half as big as when it was bare and snowless. But, of course, I had to snap back to reality eventually, remembering my duties as a teacher and as an adult. This wasn't the first time. The other week, for example, I was playing dodgeball at recess and remembered that I am three times the children's age when the ball zoomed out of my hand and skimmed a child's ear; I have to remember that I am an adult and therefore much bigger and more powerful. Plus, I want them to have fun more than I care about myself having fun.
Anyway, back to sledding. I was happily sledding down the hill with one of my first graders, the breeze upon my face, the white schoolyard smiling back at me, when suddenly I notice that my giant, red rain boot was lined up perfectly with one of my third graders' chest. She was sitting at the bottom of the hill and looked up at Emi-Sensei, who was waving her arms around yelling something peculiar in English. What was she saying? Just being silly again?
I wanted to turn the sled over to avoid running into her, but I had this precious little first grader in front of me and didn't want to topple him face-first into the snow. It was too late. My red boot hit the third grader square in the chest as I frantically tried to retract my leg so as not to hit her as squarely as I did. There was a moment of panic. I jumped towards her with my hands out, ready to catch her bawling, shocked little body...but instead she just stared at me. And then smiled. I turned around to see the sixth graders howling with laughter at the top of the hill. Yes, Emi-Sensei did, in fact, just sled down a hill and accidentally kick her student with a giant red boot. Luckily, no one was hurt and we could all laugh about it for a good five minutes.
So while my job has been fun both in terms of playing with the students and teaching English, there are still many things to learn about my job. The first thing I am working on is channeling my inner child while retaining some shred of integrity as a teacher.
Below are some snaps of Yokohama-machi's first big snowfall of the season.
There is another, lesser known reason why I love my job. I get to be a child again. I get to run around, laugh at silly jokes, and play games. Today I got to be a first grader. It has been snowing for about five days straight. There is a LOT of snow. Luckily, Aomori Prefecture is well equipped with "heat-tech" undershirts, snow pants, and GIANT snow plows that enable everyone to drive through a raging blizzard to work and school as though it were any other day. While having to drive on icy roads with a layer of freshly fallen snow on top is more terrifying than exciting, playing in the snow at recess is INCREDIBLY exciting. Today, as a first grader, I went sledding.
I was walking through the freezing cold hallway reflecting on how smart I was to have worn my heat-tech undershirt and pants to school when one of the teachers pointed outside to a band of children running waist-deep through snow. They were blazing a path through the untouched white expanse, a steep hill awaiting them at the opposite end of the schoolyard. Yellow, blue, and orange plastic sleds flopped around, trailing the excited children. My heart started beating faster. I really was smart to have worn my heat-tech underclothes. I put on two jackets, my rain boots, and one glove (I lost the other one), and hightailed it after the children. The last thing I remember was the second grade teacher and secretary looking at me with amusement, unsure if they had heard me correctly when I said in English, "I want to sled!"
Next thing I knew, I was standing on top of a hill that looked much steeper from the top than across the schoolyard. The children, too, seemed confused as to why I was there, why this overexcited foreign teacher was scrambling up a hill, sinking into the snow as though it were quicksand. In retrospect, they may have been more confused as to why I was in three feet of snow with dress pants and rain boots as opposed to proper snow pants and snow boots, like they are required to wear. Before long, a first-grader told me to join him on his sled. I went from being the awkward loser to the cool new kid. After that other kids asked me to push them down the hill or ride with them.
Recess was awesome. There was the right amount of snow for sledding and the hill had the perfect steepness. Floating snowflakes drifted down from the gray sky and landed on our mittens. The white schoolyard engulfed us in all its glory; endless opportunity for building snowmen, snowball fights, sledding, skiing, anything awaited us in a schoolyard that once looked half as big as when it was bare and snowless. But, of course, I had to snap back to reality eventually, remembering my duties as a teacher and as an adult. This wasn't the first time. The other week, for example, I was playing dodgeball at recess and remembered that I am three times the children's age when the ball zoomed out of my hand and skimmed a child's ear; I have to remember that I am an adult and therefore much bigger and more powerful. Plus, I want them to have fun more than I care about myself having fun.
Anyway, back to sledding. I was happily sledding down the hill with one of my first graders, the breeze upon my face, the white schoolyard smiling back at me, when suddenly I notice that my giant, red rain boot was lined up perfectly with one of my third graders' chest. She was sitting at the bottom of the hill and looked up at Emi-Sensei, who was waving her arms around yelling something peculiar in English. What was she saying? Just being silly again?
I wanted to turn the sled over to avoid running into her, but I had this precious little first grader in front of me and didn't want to topple him face-first into the snow. It was too late. My red boot hit the third grader square in the chest as I frantically tried to retract my leg so as not to hit her as squarely as I did. There was a moment of panic. I jumped towards her with my hands out, ready to catch her bawling, shocked little body...but instead she just stared at me. And then smiled. I turned around to see the sixth graders howling with laughter at the top of the hill. Yes, Emi-Sensei did, in fact, just sled down a hill and accidentally kick her student with a giant red boot. Luckily, no one was hurt and we could all laugh about it for a good five minutes.
So while my job has been fun both in terms of playing with the students and teaching English, there are still many things to learn about my job. The first thing I am working on is channeling my inner child while retaining some shred of integrity as a teacher.
Below are some snaps of Yokohama-machi's first big snowfall of the season.