OPENING PANDORA'S BOX: A SPEECH CONTEST

"Have you ever tried to commit suicide?  I have." 

This was the opening line two years ago of one of my students who was competing in a local speech contest, as reported to me by a fellow ALT who was there.  I'm confident that this was an accurate quote, and doubt that the ALT was exaggerating.  Having attended the speech contest this past summer, I've witnessed firsthand the awkwardness of this event.  Speakers open their mouths, and out comes a Pandora's box of misfortunes: deaths, illnesses, handicaps, injustices.  The formula is always the same: something negative happened, and they overcame it.  Sometimes the challenges are framed in unexpected ways.  One girl with dead eyes spoke in a grim monotone and extolled the virtues of the color pink and how much she loves it, and then went on, "And when my baby twin sisters died suddenly, I loved pink even more.  It made me happier."  You could have heard a pin drop.

There's a toneless recitation, however, that robs the events of any meaning, significance or sentiment.  It may be my cynical Grinch heart at work, but it makes me uncomfortable that these otherwise cheery kids trot out stories of the tragedies of their lives in order to curry favor and sympathy from the judges.  My students never seem to pick anything sensational.  The student I'm coaching this year has chosen child abuse as her topic, but thankfully is not approaching the subject with any personal anecdotes, but rather, a more philosophical discussion of abuse.  I feel a slight pang, because I know that no matter how much we practice, there will be a student from another high school who has a parent who went to Bible college in the United States, or studied abroad in Australia for a year, and their accents and inflection will be near perfect, regardless of the content of their speeches. 

The speech contest is in a week, and God knows what awaits us.  Especially since DL and I have been asked to emcee the event.  Pray for us. 

KOYASAN

As part of my attempt to make this the year of doing ALL THE THINGS, I have been trying to steadily knock out some of the entries on my Japanese bucket list.  Recently I escaped to Koyasan, a temple complex in the mountains of Wakayama prefecture, and one of the holiest sites in Japan.  The journey to Koyasan is quite a pilgrimage in and of itself; 3 hours of various train lines, a cable car, and a bus.  The town is unremarkable; it consists mostly of a mainstreet of souvenir shops where you can buy religious talismans, and offerings of beer and sake.  The real draws are the temples nestled into the sides of the mountain, as well as the extensive Buddhist graveyard. 

Cemetery at Koyasan

Hands down, the best part of the getaway was staying overnight in one of the temples.  The monks rent traditional Japanese rooms to travelers for a night or more, allowing guests to explore the old buildings and their grounds.  You're encouraged to wear a yukata (a long, lightweight cotton robe) around the temple during your stay.  On my way to the communal Japanese-style bathrooms at 9pm, my yukata tied around me and grasping my toiletries and a change of clothes, I ran into a young monk in the darkened halls.  He very generously offered to show me and my friends around some of the more beautiful rooms of the temple, including a tatami room with giant floor-to-ceiling screens.  The entire room glowed, as the screens looked to have been made of gold leaf.  

A delicious vegetarian dinner and breakfast were included, with lots of colorful small dishes: soups, fruit, tofu, pickles, and a variety of vegetables.  Each morning, the guests gather at 6am for morning prayer, listening to the monks chant and make offerings of incense.  A glorious way to escape from the hurly burly for a weekend.

Our room

Women's communal bath.  You undress and clean yourself at the showers before soaking in the large tub.  Heavenly.

BACK TO SCHOOL

For me, school life is characterized by questionable comments from my students and entertaining misunderstandings.  Our first week of classes was no exception. 

One student approached me in the staff room and said, "Eri-sensei, I'm friends with you on Facebook.  I saw the photos of the baby you posted.  Is that your baby?"  Momentarily flummoxed, I had to take a minute to recover before saying, "Um, no.  That's actually my nephew."  She was embarrassed; so was I, slightly.  All I could think was, "My students think I'm old enough to have a baby.  I am old." Only later did it occur to me to ask her if she thought I had been pregnant for the past 9 months and then popped out a kid, returning to work the next day.  I guess eating all this tempura has caused me to put on some weight?

Third years were expected to write a short composition in class about their summer vacations.  Assignments like these require close supervision, as it is a struggle to get the students to write 3-5 sentences in English, much less a couple of paragraphs.  The JTE and I circled the room, checking students' work, until the JTE motioned me over.  "She [the student] says that she went on SM Tour this summer," said the JTE to me, wide-eyed.  "Can you believe it?"  I shook my head.  "No, what is SM Tour?" I asked.  "You know!" she said.  No, I really didn't know.  We went back and forth like this, and for a moment I wondered if the teacher was talking about S&M, which seemed to be the only logical answer, given her shock.  However, I quickly put this thought out of my mind, given that 1) the JTE in question is a woman several years younger than I am and quite the innocent, and 2) we were talking about the summer plans of our 17 year-old student.  I turned to the student and asked, "What is SM Tour?"  "It is concert by Korean idol," she responded.  I looked over at the JTE, whose eyes had gotten wide.  "Ooooohhh," she said, exhaling with relief.  "I thought it was SM. You know, like sadism, um, maso..."  I chuckled uneasily and didn't pursue the topic.  But the exchange has definitely made me reconsider my JTE and her straightlaced facade.