Did I suddenly run out of things to write?
Life has become more normal. Now that we are able to relax at home, normal-life things are no longer so alarming! What is interesting is that I am finally teaching real actual classes with real actual students in them. I teach at a few different places, which is interesting: I teach kids who have been given disadvantages by the world who speak fantastic English. I teach kids who have everything and don’t even try. I teach kids who know it all and are so shy they won’t look up from their desks. I teach kids who know nothing but want so badly to learn that they never stop talking. Every class, every lesson is something new, a brand new job every single day to adapt to, take on differently, and look back on with fresh regard.
I think that’s what I enjoy so much about teaching, the thing I never really thought about before: your “career” is not always about some sort of grand final ambition, the ultimate task. Sometimes it is less defined, more simple: today, I am doing something new. Every day I am doing something new. It is discomforting, unsettling, but perfect. The nerves of what cannot be anticipated begin to fade. Instead of lamenting the unknown I embrace it because it is an inevitability. I am perpetually aware that I am the outsider, the American, the tall white guy who every single kid thinks is cool (or an idiot) just cause he’s different. It wears off on me, I feast on their curiosity. I am my own brand new enigma, unravelled to every class differently, at my own pace. To me this is what I always intended when I considered the idea of changing my life by coming here. Not just the things I do but the way I approach events, thought processes, attitudes. It’s exciting!
Also, there are so many snack foods and candies and chips and dried fish jerkies and restaurants that I could never try them all. I can get a new drink from the vending machines every day for months.
We are anticipating the delivery of an IKEA as-is clearance mattress which is in perfect shape but was returned by someone and stuck in the clear-it-out room for ￥9900. It is a glorified futon, and I can’t wait to wake up without feeling like my spine is made of walnuts.