For the months of July and August, the preschool sets up a small collapsable pool every year in the corner of the front yard, under the awning, for the kids to play in. Instead of our daily treks to the park each morning, each of the four classes takes turns having an hour in the swimming pool instead. It’s a nice break to get outside and feel the sun, but oh my goodness, helping a room full of 3 year olds get changed into their swim suits is like herding kittens with short attention spans.
Challenging to say the least. But also highly entertaining.
I don’t know if its the heat, or being away for over four months, or seeing all the posts on social media about everyone’s beach trips, but I’m feeling the homesickness this month.
The initial shock has worn off by now about being here, and now that I’m more or less settled, it’s really starting to hit me: I’m still here, but everyone I know and love is there, back home.
What to do, what to do…
Wow, when they said school would get busy I believed them, but I didn’t appreciate just how busy it would get. So busy that I’ve been staying until 7pm to finish grading and prepping, walking home in the dark, eating whatever was in arms length, and staring at my computer screen in a zombified state until I got up the willpower to get into the shower, and then collapse into bed way later than I should be… Just to wake up and do it all over again the next day.
When you’re three, each day is filled with extreme heartbreaking, melt down inducing, world ending drama.
No it’s not a place.
During one of my private English lessons, I was talking with my student, playing a get to know you game since he is new and I asked a question about tea. Specifically, what’s your favorite tea?
He looked at me, clearly thinking hard about it, but said “I don’t know.” I tried asking again, rephrasing it and asking a silly question, thinking he was just nervous. Finally he responded saying that he had a favorite, but didn’t know what it was called in English. I told him that was okay, tell me in Japanese.
By now, you all have probably heard my canned tuna story.
If you haven’t, it goes like this: I was out grocery shopping one of my first weeks here and I picked up a few cans of fish to have in my pantry for those nights (or lunches) when you don’t feel like cooking. The wifi wasn’t working at this supermarket and I couldn’t get the offline Google Translate features to read the characters on the can, so I picked up a few cans all under 100 yen and threw them in my cart, hoping for the best.