can i go home now?

Every other year, when it comes to spring vacation in Japan, I sit at my desk with absolutely nothing to do. It's in between school years, and so without knowing what the plans are for the next school year I sit at my desk and try to look like I'm keeping myself busy, so other teachers don't judge me and think of me as a waste of government money.

This year, however, is different. Since I'm switching schools, I've had to clear out my desk, which is much harder than it sounds. Not only have I got my own crap to get rid of, I've also got about 10 years worth of 'resources' that have been left around from previous Assistant Teachers. There's fake money from the UK, Canada, and the US in there - something that most people don't use but are probably too afraid to throw away just in case the next teacher that comes along happens to be from one of those countries. I also have a fake mobile phone, which I can kinda see how it counts as an educational resource, and a toy plastic shotgun, which I'm still struggling to justify how it could ever be used for educational purposes, but following tradition, I can't bring myself to throw it out, you know, just in case.

I've also got token farewell presents for each teacher sitting in my desk, which I'm wondering when I should pass out. I was thinking of giving it to just the teachers who have spoken to me, but afraid of the leers from other teachers who have not made it on my 'favourite teacher' list, have caved and got token presents for all the teachers. But that doesn't mean I'm still afraid to give them out. I just want to avoid the awkward farewell speeches that may follow from every teacher when I do give them out.

And, the biggest difference of course, is that I've got nothing to do at all. And with a completely empty desk, it's hard to even make it look like I have things to do. So since I'm technically obliged to be here til tomorrow, what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm tempted to leave as soon as I can, and hope that no one else will notice or even care that I'm not here when I should be. After all, when will I ever see them again after I move schools?

Okay, that's it. I'm going home. Well, once the judging leers from the other teachers stop and I can give out my farewell presents. But yeah, once that leering stops, I'm totally out of here.

meeting is by chance, but parting is natural

It's Friday - the last day of the Japanese school year, and here I am, hiding out in the staff room. Other teachers are hiding out as well, since they're also leaving the school this year too.

So even though the teachers leaving the school have known for at least a couple weeks that they'd be transferred to another school, it's kept a secret from students until the very last day of school. Even other teachers don't find out until a few days beforehand. Students only find out in the final assembly, when all the students are seated, and the doors open to reveal the lineup of leaving teachers. 

Poor kids. Reality TV-like dramatic reveal aside, it must be quite traumatic to only find out then who's leaving. At least with Reality TV there's the prospect of fifteen minutes of fame and the chance of monetary compensation at the end of it all. 

see, and this is why i don't like doctors.

Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate the healthcare system in Japan. When a consultation with a doctor AND medicine is covered for around $15, I can't really complain too much. But seriously, can't you shove all of this in just a regular pill? That's not even including the three other medicines I have in powder form, which come in single use packs for you to pour directly into your mouth, before sculling 2 litres of water to remove that "I have a tablet in my mouth that I can't swallow and now tastes gross" flavour that lingers.

I am always a little traumatised going to the doctor though. A visit to the doctor here involves entering a usually-busy waiting room, lining up to see the receptionist, and telling her what your illness is. In front of everyone else. I do feel sorry for anyone who has come to the doctor for an STD something. Actually, maybe they purposely do that as a deterrent...

thirty-eight.

Original Marimokkori (Hokkaido)

Thirty-eight.  I now have at least 38 marimokkori in my possession. It's not as bad as you think though. My friends, now aware of my um... 'hobby', come back from their travels with a few well-endowed green trinkets as souvenirs.

Sanuki Udon (Takamatsu)

 The question is, what do I do with them now? They're currently just house in a small nondescript cardboard box, which I always figured would be temporary until I take them home to Australia. But then what? Should I put them in a clear plastic case, for everyone to see? I feel that other people may be less understanding and quick to judge about my hobby to collect these green guys from all the places I've been.

Himeiji Castle (Himeiji)

I was going to try and stick them on a map of Japan, to show where I've been and everything, but with the non region-specific marimokkori in my collection, I'm at a loss of what to do with them as well.

Onsen

Limited Edition Gold!

Meh, I guess I'll just work it out once I'm home. Though, the next question is whether I can get my whole collection back to Australia. It might be an awkward conversation with the customs officer if he opens my suitcase.

The beginning of the end

Wow, it does seem like a very ominous title for a blog post, but after a three day conference for JETs returning to their home countries, it really has got me thinking. I was hoping to find answers, and ideally, someone running up to me and offering me a job on the spot, but unforunately neither of those things eventuated. On the plus side, it did involve a three day mini trip to Yokohama wearing a suit and finally understanding what it feels like to be an actual professional who normally goes on business trips. I've been trying to act all nonchalant and casual about the fact that "I'm on business", but I think my grin of excitement about sitting on a Shinkansen and not being at school is giving me away.

Tomorrow when I do return to actual work, I'll be reminded again about the fact the end is nigh. It'll be my final class with some of my third year students before they graduate next year. It might not sound like much, but these were also the same kids who had bowl haircuts, squeaky voices and were afraid of cooties when I had just come to Japan. Now, they have big hair, shaved eyebrows and bright pink hairclips. And don't even get me started on the girls. But regardless, the very first kids I taught and didn't feel very attached to when I first came are now my favourite ones, and the last group of kids I'll see graduate.

Boy, how things change so quickly. Hopefully that also applies to my imminent unemployment as well.