Office Sobetsukai (Sniff, Sniff)

April 11, 2010

The sakura, the famous Japanese cherry blossoms, reached their zenith a couple weeks ago, and now green leaves are shooting from the branches, as the petals drop slowly, slowly down. The individual petals coast the gentle breeze like a surfer riding waves; when a stronger gust shakes the branches, they scatter like confetti. I’m a little sad about the departure of the sakura. It might very well be the last time I see them bloom in Japan.

The Japanese school year came to an end March 25th. At the same time the students plotted ways of neglecting their spring homework, the teachers were in a frenzy. After almost a month of waiting, the secret list of transferees had come out. I spent the last three days of classes going from school to school to find out which teachers were leaving and saying my last farewells. Some departures were expected, others came like a bolt from the blue.

All in all, I had four sobetsukais—or farewell parties—spanning from Friday to Friday. But the last party was by far the most poignant. On March 26th, I went to my office’s sobetsukai—my own farewell party.

For the last two years and eight months, my official place of work has been the Osumi Board of Education, which ALTs simply refer to as the office. We gathered there on Fridays and during student vacations. Our supervisor, Shibahara-sensei, takes care of us. He makes our schedule, fills out our paperwork, gives us information, logs our vacation days, and so on. And everyone in the office looks out for us during times of crisis: when we get sick, when we get in car accidents, when I lost my keys in the rain and people from the office had to climb up my balcony so I could get inside my apartment…

But due to a change in the system, none of us three ALTs will go to the office as of April 1st. Instead we will each have a base school in Kanoya: Kanyoa High School, Kanoya Kogyo (Technical) High School, Kanoya Nogyo (Agricultural) High School. (Mine is Nogyo.) In a way, it makes sense. We ALTs do nothing in the office but take up space and talk each other’s heads off. That doesn’t change my feelings, though. I like the office. I like these people and the close relationship we’ve built up over time.



Our farewell party was held at Sennari, a traditional Japanese restaurant, shoved down the end of a narrow street. The ever cheerful Ikeda-sensei stood in the parking lot and guided our car (or should I say Matt’s car) into the parking lot. Inside the restaurant, there was a large fish tank and an arrangement of flowers.

We weren’t allowed into our party’s room right away. According to sobetsukai ritual, the guests of honor must enter last, while everyone else applauds them. It occurred to me that this was probably the only time I was going to have this kind of special treatment. If some of the people in my schools throw me a farewell party come July, it will probably be an informal gathering only. What does it matter? When I’m part of these official parties, I actually feel included as a valued worker, rather than just the random foreigner hastily remembered at the last minute. It’s strange. We ALTs are about as useful as lumps of coal in the office, yet they always make it appoint to include us in these things.

As I walked into the room and took my seat under my banner, I realized for the first time how many people were leaving the office. Those leaving outnumbered those staying. The turnover rate for the office was so high. At two years and eight months, I had been there longer than all but one other departing person. (Yoshida-sensei, the youngest person in the office, beat me; he was here three years.)



Although trays of artfully decorated appetizers, sashimi, and tempura were sitting right on the table in front of us, no one could eat until the speeches were done. Akune-sensei, the “big boss” of the Osumi Board of Education, was the representative for those who were departing, and he made a long but intimate speech. Individually, he praised us. For me, he said that I took care of the other ALTs, and my heart glowed a little. Once, Akune-sensei got choked up and had to stop for a few minutes to recover. I felt like I was going to cry, too.

After speeches, we poured our drinks and toasted. “Kampai!” As at all enkais, the food on our tray was only the beginning. Course after course came: sushi, tonkatsu (fried pork cutlets), suimono (a clear soup) with a sakura floating in it, and chawan mushi (steamed egg custard). Alcohol began to flow. I don’t drink straight alcohol, so I had expected to be hitting the cola and ulong tea, but to my surprise, they had brought chuhais to the party, a kind of wine cooler with a shochu (potato spirits) base.

Midway through, there was another round of speeches, with all the departing people giving their own. I was the first of the ALTs called, and I reminisced about the past and expressed my gratitude. Although I spoke emotionally, inwardly, I felt calm. Even so, my face must have expressed some of my sadness, because Andie, next to give her speech, broke down and started tearing up. This surprised me, because Andie struck me as being fairly tough. Later, she blamed me. Seeing other people cry made her want to cry and the atmosphere here was so emotional.



Matt gave his speech last and ended with a touch of aplomb. At the very end, he thanked Shibahara-sensei personally and gave him a gift of his very favorite beer, Heinkein. Shibahara-sensei raised the bottle high and said that he didn’t intend to share. After the speeches were finished, Andie gave Shibahara-sensei her own present. It was a very nice black bag, a little smaller than a suitcase. Her teachers had suggested it, as a very useful item for travel. It turned out to be a very good suggestion. Shibahara-sensei’s face creased with joy, and then he started crying. He turned away from us, but I could see his back shaking.

Now, I hadn’t bought a present for Shibahara-sensei yet, and I was beginning to wonder how the heck I was going to compete with these presents. But I got an idea, as the party wound down. For once, I had remembered to bring my camera to the party, snatching it up before I ran out the door. And even though Matt is a semi-professional photographer and Andie is Japan’s own personal paparazzi, I had oddly been the one snapping pictures all night. I decided to make my photographs my farewell present to Shibahara-sensei and everyone else.



The formal party at Sennari came to an end around 9:30, with more short speeches and three rounds of “Bonzais!” But the night was young, and Akune-sensei was hosting a nijikai—or after party—at his house, as he was wont to do. A bus waiting at the restaurant parking lot shuttled us all to Akune-sensei’s house. More food waited for us there. Huge platters of sushi, bamboo salad, edemame and peanuts, and drinks, drinks galore, sat on the tatami mat floor. We thanked the women who had prepared the food excessively and had another toast.

For the next hour or so I buzzed around, making small talk, taking pictures, and trying to shove a little more food into my already full stomach—out of politeness, of course! By 11:00 or so, I decided to take my leave, hitching a ride with Matt. As we left, the women were just starting to bring out bowls of ramen—just in case there was the faintest possibility that we weren’t all completely stuffed.

Over the weekend, I made copies of my photos for everyone in the office and a special scrapbook for Shibahara-sensei. I gave it to him Monday morning. By then, he wasn’t drunk, so he didn’t cry. But several people in the office were delighted and thanked me warmly.

Pre-Hokkaido Business

Early August 2009

From Friday August 7th until Saturday August 15, I will be on vacation in Northern Japan. My first stop is Hokkaido, which is the second largest and northernmost of Japan’s four main islands. In the old days, it was a rough and wild land, and even now, Hokkaido is known chiefly for its agriculture and delicious food. I will spend one day in the main city of Sapporo (famous for beer and ramen), and then move down to Hakodate, which was the site of a famous battle, for two days.

After that, I will move to the Tohoku region, which is the northern area of the main island of Honshu. My first stop will be Sendai, which is one of the larger cities in the region. Then I will move down to Aizu-Wakamatsu, the site of a famous rebellion and suicide tragedy, for two nights. Finally, I will end in Tokyo, where I will do some research at one of the museums for a short story I’d like to get published.

So, that will be my summer trip. Naturally, I will give you more details once I actually do my traveling.

But in the days before my vacation, I find myself unexpectedly busy. On paper, it looks like I should be winding down with the arrival of summer. Not so. Classes ended at the third week of July, and I found myself just getting busier. Technically, these days are filled with “office days” which usually means going to the Board of Education, sitting in an air conditioned room, and doing whatever they can find for us to do. Usually that’s nothing. Usually.

Except, that with the end of July comes a change in ALTs. The old Assistant Language Teachers go home and the new ones arrive. And this year, the two other ALTs in my office, Rachelle and Vickie, were both leaving. And, in fact, I was changing schools so I had my share of goodbyes.

Someone decided that rather than having us waste time going to the office, it would be better for each of us ALTs to report to a “base” school, which could relay information to us. These base schools would be Kanoya High, Kanoya Kogyo (Technical), and Kanoya Nogyo (Agricultural)—in short the three Kanoya schools. All well and logical—except two of those schools were mine. To make a long story short, I had to switch Kanoya Kogyo (technical) for Koyama High, a smaller school further from my house.

So, in the last few weeks, I cleaned out my desk, wrote instructions for my successor, and prepared a goodbye speech (in Japanese). Every time I went to Kogyo (admittedly only three times in July), I was struck with a heavy emotion, a mix of sadness and stress. I really hadn’t expected to leave any of my schools, and I had a special affection for Kogyo, my nearly all-boys school. I had started off having almost no classes and ended up averaging four classes a day and actually preparing lessons. Kogyo was the only school where I felt like a real teacher. And that was the school I had to leave.

So, after I said goodbye to Kogyo, I had about a week and a half to say goodbye to Rachelle and Vickie. The two of them were even busier than I was. They had to clean, pack, and say goodbye to everyone. Still, we found some time to spend together. We went to see Harry Potter and I took them out to dinner. The Kanoya girls met one last time for Shirokuma: shaved ice with condensed milk and fruit. Of the six girls present, I was the only one staying.

Yesterday (was it really only yesterday?), Rachelle and Vickie left Japan. I woke up early that day, not only because I had to be at the office before 8:00, but I was also a little restless. July 29th had been wedged in my mind like a splinter. The day my friends were leaving. The day the new ALTs were arriving.

Rachelle brought some friends with her to the airport, including Noriko, a teacher from her school, and Masako, a friend who was a volunteer English guide. They reminisced while we waited in the airport. Before long, Rachelle and Vickie were waiting in line to go through security. All this time, I had been with my two friends, wondering why I didn’t feel sadder… or really anything at all. It didn’t really hit me, until I saw Noriko with tears streaming down her face and Masako wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. And then I just felt heavy.

But this tender moment was broken by a bit of comedy—well, to me it seemed as such. Jinnouchi-sensei—a teacher Kushira Shogyo, my school, and her daughter Yuana were coming to say goodbye to Rachelle. But they hadn’t told anyone until Rachelle and Vickie had given everyone hugs and were about to pass through security.

What made this event funny to me was that Jinnouchi-sensei had only spent time with Rachelle maybe four or five times—she was more my friend than Rachelle’s. But if you knew Jinnouchi-sensei at all, you would know she’s a hyper-social butterfly and she really loves making friends with people. Plus, she’d had Yuana call me and ask me about Rachelle’s departure time a few days earlier, and so I suspected something like this would happen.

Anyway, this had a happy ending, because Jinnouchi-sensei and Yuana got there just in time. They appeared right before Rachelle was about to disappear through the metal detector and had about three seconds to say goodbye. For this they had driven two hours to the airport and would drive two hours back.

Rachelle and Vickie passed through security. We all—in true Japanese fashion—stood by the glass window, waving, until we could no longer see them at all.

By now it was about 11:30. Everyone but Noriko decided to go to lunch. Now, the silent figure in all of this drama—the person I haven’t even mentioned yet—was our supervisor, Shibahara-sensei. As the only male and the person with the least English, that really wasn’t surprising. But this is how much of a social butterfly Jinnouchi-sensei is. She had never met Shibahara-sensei before, so she immediately set about getting acquainted. We went out to lunch, and the restaurant was busy, so we had to break into two groups. Jinnouchi-sensei volunteered to sit with Shibahara-sensei.

Volunteered nothing. More like, she told us how it was going to be. They sat chatting, while Yuana, Masako, and I talked about castles in Saga prefecture. Of course, Jinnouchi-sensei paid for our lunch. This did not surprise me in the least; whenever we go out, she pounces on the bill. I don’t even try to stop her anymore; just make a note in my head and try to get her a treat later on.

After lunch, Jinnouchi-sensei, Yuana, and Masako left, but Shibahara-sensei and I stayed at the airport. The new ALTs arrived at 1:30. I had the laminated signs Rachelle and Vickie had made. I was anxious. I was waiting for people I had never seen before who I would hopefully make friends with. It wasn’t just me either. Half of all ALTs coming to Kanoya were on this same flight, so the people from the Boards of Educations from all over the prefecture were gathered together with signs of their own.

The flight emptied out, and out came all the foreigners. Matt, Vickie’s replacement, was the first one we saw. He was tall, with reddish brown hair and glasses. Since he was getting Kogyo, I had emailed him a couple times before. I knew he was a year older than Vickie, from New Jersey, and liked taking photographs and sports.

Andie, Rachelle’s replacement, took a lot longer to come out. Andie was short, petite, and black. I can’t say African American, because she’s from Jamaica. All I knew about her at the time was where she was from and her age (one year older than Rachelle).

So, there we were. As soon as I saw them, most of my anxiety left. I don’t know why, but knowing what they looked like was a big relief. They were both nice and polite and wanted to know a lot about Japan. So I told them. Whatever I could think of. About halfway through the car ride, we stopped at a convenience store for drinks. I remembered how my boss had bought us ice cream the first day, so I decided to do the same.

We went to the office and the ALTs made their self-introduction speeches in Japanese. Both Matt and Andie had, oh I’d say maybe a year’s worth of Japanese, and so they could manage that just fine. But when the boss made the speech in Japanese, I was the one to translate it into English. In my two years I’ve risen into the position as the unofficial translator, a post I hold with some pride.

I offered to take the new ALTs grocery shopping after work. Then we went out to dinner and I showed them around Rina City, a shopping center near our house. By the time I got home it was 8:00. For all intents and purposes, it was a 12-hour day. And by no means was I finished.

Today, in the afternoon, we went to the bank and city hall, while I explained the two hundred ways Japan makes us sort garbage (I’m only slightly exaggerating), helped fill out forms, and did more translation in general. I don’t begrudge the extra work or the enormous amount of information that must be passed down. I actually like feeling helpful, like an older sister. At the same time, I know these are adults (both of whom are older than me) who want to be independent as soon as possible. I feel like in a few weeks I’ll be obsolete and they’ll know more about Kanoya than I will. There are already so many things I don’t know, questions I can’t answer.

They both seem nice, but I haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other. We’re still on polite, information gathering mode. I’ve been talking and talking, but all of it practical: how to tell soy milk from normal milk, where the coin laundry is, the way ATM cards work in Japan….

Besides all this saying goodbye and saying hello, I’ve been keeping busy with other tasks, which include studying Japanese (from 1-4 hours a day), finishing a chapter (and trying to write another one), taking a medical exam (but first translating the questionnaire into English), making dinner (hoping the food doesn’t spoil too quickly in this heat), fighting insects (they’re winning), reading reviews from fans of my fanfiction (some are threatening to kill me if I don’t write another chapter), and viewing a rare once in a lifetime eclipse (which I couldn’t see at all because it was cloudy). I might go see fireworks on Saturday. I definitely have to clean my house by Sunday.

To put it succinctly, lately I’ve been just a little stressed.

So, I’m looking forward to this vacation. A break from studying Japanese. Long train rides to read in. Beautiful scenery and good food with no cooking and no washing dishes.