school – Page 17 – hannah ananas

Sick at work, and no one cares

Today, I woke up around 2:30am, throat sick. Lots and lots of pain, a desire for water that could not be satisfied due to extreme pain when drinking, and total exhaustion. I woke up once (or was it twice) more before my actual alarm, needing to rush to the bathroom from all the water I was drinking. I contemplated just going to the doctor’s office instead, and getting a sick leave day, but my mother, who is visiting, convinced me that it was best to go to school, since I hadn’t been there much lately and would be gone the rest of this week, too.

And I discovered more of the Japanese views on work and illness while I was at work today. Almost no one seemed concerned that I was sick and at work (and could barely talk). Having to sit around at work after I finished all my classes was even more rough than the start to the day. And finding compassion for being ill and stuck at work was rather impossible from a people who practically would work on their deathbeds. (For those who don’t know, Japanese teachers don’t take off work for almost anything, including illness. Only the flu gets them all ruffled up into a panic, where they force you to stay home for a week.)

It was an odd day for sure…
Post-a-day 2017

Rain and Love

Last night, as I was heading out from school, I left the well-lit library to find incredibly dark hallways. As I passed an adjoining hallway, I joked with a group of girls who seemed to be heading in my direction. We all headed down the hallway and downstairs in a goofy, laughing group, and were met at the front doors by a group of students and pouring rain. I sighed at the rain, and began to accept my wet and cold fate, but slowly. I was mostly concerned about my backpack and the fact that I’d only just this week left home without my backpack rain cover.

“No umbrella?” one of the girls asked me.

“Nope.”

“Me, too.”

“Me, too!”

There were several other nods to these statements.

“Six people. One umbrella.” They all laughed, and I with them.

I quickly corrected the ‘too’ to ‘neither’, and we all set out to the entranceway’s outdoor covering, where another group of students was standing around. With only a brief pause, as though to psych ourselves up, we then shot out into the rain with squeals and laughter and sloshes and splashes in what seemed like every direction.

As we bounded down the hill, I fell behind with calls for being careful on the slippery slope that had developed from our driveway. One girl called out to me, and urged me closer to her. She was on her own now, the pack of howling girls just ahead. But she had the umbrella, so I had little hesitation in joining her beneath it.

As we made our final descent to the train station, she struggled through bits of English to inform me that her grandmother’s car would be waiting for her after the bus, and so she only needed to get to the bus at the station, and then would not need her umbrella, so would I please take it? I eventually acquiesced, thanked gratefully, and told her to come to my desk the next day to pick up her umbrella. She was delighted, and so was I. I was delighted beyond reason at the scenario itself, and I was naturally excited that the contents of my bag were now safe. What an evening! 🙂
Post-a-day 2017

Music creates life

You know, music really can make life feel worth living.

These past few weeks have been really odd for me, and this week, especially, has been quite filled (to partial explosion) with stress, and an odd kind at that. This afternoon, as I had still two hours to fill, after what had felt like a day’s worth of work and several hours of painful efforts to sleep, I put on my jacket and rushed out into the hallways to get myself moving around, and in hopes of finding something to help pass the time, preferably involving movement (thus my vague plan of aiming for the gymnasium).

The music students are currently preparing solos (with piano accompaniment), and so I came across one of my lovelies (the Bass player) rehearsing in the hallway/student entrance area (there’s a piano there) with her accompanist. They welcomed me joyfully, and so I watched and hopped around (it was filthy cold) with semi-frozen delight for a bit.

They finished after not quite ten minutes, and so I wandered on my way toward the gym again. As I was making the final turn, I was caught by a trumpet and a couple clarinets (which was fine by me). One of them had told me that she wants to play with me, but our scheduled time for today had to be canceled, because she had to go home after rehearsal. But she was here now, and practicing…, so she dragged me in and got me to play a bit (though not together, since we only had one trumpet).

Then, when I thought they were all leaving, they told me to come with them upstairs to what turned out to be a brief a capella singing rehearsal. They were sopranos, so I got to stand with them and learn the soprano part to a very pretty Japanese song. It was almost spooky how cool it sounded and felt to be in the group, making such beautiful music.

Afterward, we established that one girl is crazy, and I declared my similar mental state. She and I, and others off and on, proceeded to dance around to the music of others rehearsing… we high fived as I was about to leave, as a sign of joint craziness and joy, and I said my goodbyes to the room, with lots of love in reply. I truly felt myself at home with this goofy group of musicians.

As I rushed out the door, and put back on my shoes, a flautist was in the hallway, next to my shoes. He excused himself, and I said, “Play!” Instantly, and with a smile and an “Okay,” he played part of his solo piece for me. It was beautiful.

And it was standing there in that freeing hallway, listening to this boy play flute, that the thought crossed my mind, unbitten, “Music really can make life worth living.”

As I have struggled with life lately, – and no, I don’t mean in the sense of giving up on life as a whole, but just on giving up on this part of life, living here and doing this job and all of that – what has gotten me through every time has been music. Sometimes it has been live music from these kids at school, or from the guitar I got as an early Christmas present last week. Sometimes it has been from Spotify or my music collection. And sometimes even just a single song that a friend sent me from YouTube.

Whatever the case, the source of my survival, my strength, my belief that this life is worth continuing and working at, despite its near-overwhelming hardships, has been music. I finally understand a bit what a friend of mine meant, when she said she felt like she had died, when she lost her hearing and, thereby, music. When I don’t have the music, I just get used to the solemn melancholy, the deafening silence of a lifestyle I don’t love – I grow accustomed to not living, and I despise the existence (but that all just becomes the norm). And when I do have the music, I am excited for today, for right now, and for what tomorrow might bring – I feel the life inside me and all around me, and I yearn to spread myself around and live to the fullest.

Music really does give life and make life worth living, even when it feels like you have nothing else for you.

I'm part of Post A Day 2016

Oops: Thank You, Teacher

As I showered just now, I somehow recalled a video meme I recently saw via a friend on Facebook. I didn’t much like it, and found it a poor use of such a great clip, but I’ve remembered it nonetheless. The words were along the lines of “when you just barely make your paper deadline”. The clip was Captain Jack Sparrow gliding perfectly onto the dock, as his ship disappeared under the water, sunk.

For whatever reason, this reminded me of the time in college when I did not make a sort of deadline.

It was my second year, in the Fall semester, and for one of my French classes. I think I had planned out studying for the test, and things had come up rather last-minute, completely destroying my study plan. It was probably a combination of that and the usual heart’s tug of ‘Let’s get distracted by everything other than studying.’

So, I found myself cramming desperately the night before and the morning of this test. I eventually just looked at myself, called it all ridiculous, and checked my teacher’s office hours. She would be in her office the half hour before class, which was not long from now. I kept studying, though in a completely different mood. Either I would get what I was dearly hoping to get, or I’d likely fail the test. And I could handle either (though I certainly had a preference).

I arrived at her office with an inner nervous, sweaty hands kid residing in my stomach, and a true sense of ease at what I was about to do.

I told her quite openly that I, by full fault of my own, was utterly unprepared to take the test today. Yes, I could come to class and take it, but it would create a waste of her time in grading it, as it would be filled with various levels of nonsense. I requested that she allow me to take the test later in the week instead, and asserted that I accepted any removal of points from my grade, should she see it necessary.

And she agreed. She asked – seeing as how I went to a fabulous school, where teachers actually get to know you as a person, and their care for you shows unfailingly – about whether something specific had happened, if I were all right, or if it were just a standard ‘Oh. My. Gosh. I messed up!” (Yes, I did make it clear that my situation was of the not-so-proud “Oops” category when she initially asked.), and then accepted my request to take the test later. I believe we agreed upon Friday, so that she still could grade it and give it back with the others on Monday… something like that, anyway. (I then rushed back home and resumed studying for the next two-ish days.)

I think that experience – although I’m not sure I’ve thought this until now – had a strong impact on how I handled students as a teacher. I remembered always that students have lives outside of the classroom, and that my class was not always the most important part of life for my students (and not simply by the students’ decision, but by global agreement), which sometimes meant that assignments went forgotten one night.

Essentially, I always expected the best of my students, and I remembered that they were only human. And, so far as the grading went, if they cared enough to admit their error and to make the request for an extension or redo, as I had done in college, then, so long as the situation were doable, I was willing to accept (or negotiate for acceptable terms). My students all knew this. They also knew that I accepted humanness, not laziness, and that I am an expert at distinguishing the two (slash knowing when they’re totally full of it). 🙂

Yeah, I love teaching. It’s like being a parent, but you get to kick them out whenever they’re driving you nuts. (I was about to say ‘And the spending money on them and feeding them part,’ but then I remembered that we actually constantly spend money on students, and I almost daily, if not hourly, shared my food with kids. One student regularly popped into my room throughout the day one year, asking for food. Good times. Good times.)

I feel like this went a little tangent-to-tangent (whatever that means), but that’s okay. So rolls my brain, eh?* 😀

*I’m not even Canadian. I just like the sound of that

I'm part of Post A Day 2016