It’s so cold in my flat that I can see my breath. It was so warm only three days ago that I couldn’t wear my jean jacket out side and I was hot in just my blouse and light pants. Today, to get to work, I had on an undershirt, a shirt, a big fuzzy sweater, my fabulous green toque, my fingerless gloves and my wool jacket..oh, and pants. I was chilled by the time I got to the school. I had a shower tonight, it steamed up immediately (first time for that to happen) and it was so hot on my hands and feet that the water actually felt cold. I hate that when that happens.
I had a really good day teaching today. I had my favourite advanced adult class. They’re hilarious. I have a school teacher (a man), a professor (a man), a massage therapist and acupuncturist (a woman), another woman that I’m not sure what she does yet, and a receptionist from our school (a woman) who is a kick in the pants. We have great fun. I’m trying my hardest to keep it fun because they all have enough in their lives to take seriously, but I also want to give them enough challenge in the language that they feel like they’ve learned something by the time they leave. There’s more to challenging them than just giving them new words to learn and that seems like that’s all I’m encouraged to do at this level..and the level is really high. They are very well spoken in English. I want to find new usages and ways to improve their pronunciation without actually correcting them when they talk. At this level, correcting them when they say ‘de’ for ‘the’ seems so elementary when it’s in a sentence like "I think dat we should cut de special languages program at de school as we already have de base languages of Engulish and Japanese and they do not need to be learning Latin at this level. Leave dat for later." Um, yes, very good. Sure it’s not perfect but my goodness, everything else but the voiced dental fricative is all good.
I had a great Kindie class today. I haven’t been enjoying them, but I knew that it was just a matter of time before I started getting the hang of it. I’m still not uber fond of the playgroups though. I have one tomorrow...my playgroup where the kids were completely out of control and the mother’s did nothing and I felt useless and then the kids collided, literally. Thursdays are just not my days. I hope that tomorrow will be good. The kindie class today was a hoot (I get that expression from my Granny). I had put in my notes from last class, and I quote, "Takuma is being very good, but it seems like he is trying really hard to be good, keep him BUSY". I am obviously prophetic. Yes, last class he was being very good and obviously trying REALLY hard. He’s not a bad kid...he’s four. It’s hard to be bad at four. He’s just very energetic and his enthusiasm sometimes needs to be directed into more appropriate actions in the classroom. So today I implemented ‘Red Light, Green Light’ like the playground game from elementary school. Then, we played it to see who could touch the wall first, much like a frozen tag. Today it was much less structured. Essentially, run around in circles during Green Light, and then run back to where you started on Red Light. Not really what I was going for..but I think it will work eventually. I’m going for ‘Stop’ on Red Light. It will come. The only way I could stop him from continually running around the table in circles was to get the three girls to come around me for a story. No small feat (actually 8 small feet, but who’s counting) as there was a considerable distraction with the little man running in circles yelling at the top of his lungs, but they eventually all sat with me. He then eventually came too, but I had to wrap one of my legs around behind him to keep him from taking off again. Have I mentioned that I love 4 year old boys. I would have no problem letting them just go and tire themselves out but I have to remember the other classes next door and the mothers who like to hang in the hall peeking in the door window to see what’s going on. They like to see fun, but they don’t want to pay money for their kids to run around in circles. And so I feel I need to reign in the energy, hence Red Light, Green Light, they get to run, I get to show the mums I still have control...or at least seem to.
Today’s topic shall be...shoes. I am intrigued by a culture that is so conscious of removing their shoes. So conscious of removing their shoes and yet so obsessed with buying shoes (particularly the women) it seems rather contradictory. The little three year olds stop at the line where lino meets carpet like some force-field keeps them from proceeding, remove their shoes being careful to step one foot onto the carpet once it is shoeless and then the next so as to not step on the lino without shoes on, then they turn around pick up their tiny little shoes and turn them around so they are perfectly in line facing the door, ready to greet the socked little tootsies on their way back out of the room. Three years old. What is truly fascinating though is the unlimited supply of stunning shoes that Japanese women wear. It may be a little presumptuous of me but according to my small experience thus far, every Japanese woman has a shoe fetish. Amazing shoes, high heeled shoes, fancy shoes, shoes with trinkets on them. And they take them off as soon as they come near the carpet. If I had shoes like that I would never take them off, and I almost did the other day as I found some fabulous little numbers that were like boots but they were slip on's and they were so fabulous and only like 2000 yen (20 bucks or so) but they were totally unsensible so I didn't get them. No fun. My flat is pretty much all lino or fake wood. As soon as you walk in the door you are standing on a little space about one and a half feet by two feet with a different kind of lino that's about an inch and a half lower that the rest of the place. I walked into my place for the first time with two Japanese ladies who were going to show me how to use all the appliances. (For the record I have become friends with both of them, one of them is even one of my students that I had in class tonight). I stepped one foot onto the regular lino and they were like "Ah, shoes". I of course stepped back and took my shoes off, feigning the slight embarrassment that the situation required. But in my head I was thinking "It’s lino??" Not a defensive, "C’mon whatever it’s just lino" ‘tude. But a confusion. I was told lino was good, carpet, remove shoes. My worst fear now is that when I’ve just put on my boots and I’ve got my bag on me already and I’m half way out the door when I realize that I’ve forgotten something on the kitchen table which is like one long step from the front door and so I’m really careful not to make a sound with my shoes in fear that the neighbours who (supposedly but not apparently yet) live downstairs will hear me walking on the lino in my shoes. This raises a few questions, one, it’s my own home, I should be able to wear my shoes on my lino if I’m the one cleaning it, two, do the neighbours truly exists or are they a figment of my imagination, three, if they do exist do they care, and four, why should it matter to me what people think and why am I putting myself through all this inner turmoil for a rather absurd reason? I think I’ve been thinking too much.
