The Chaos After the Storm

In my last post, I’d indicated that I wouldn’t be teaching at either of my two mountain schools this month, and possibly longer.  Much to my surprise, I got an email from my supervisor saying that I would be going to one of the schools – the one farthest away – because, according to my JTE, the students needed me.  Since I haven’t been getting a lot information about these areas (it’s kind of hard without internet access or television) and my BOE has been extremely busy, I wasn’t sure what to expect.  I assumed that the school was, for the most part, put back together if the students were attending classes and that the roads had been repaired so that we could drive. 

Normally I take a bus, but I was told no busses were going to that area because it was “too dangerous” (that always gives you a fuzzy feeling, right?).  If I’m driven by car, the trip is thirty minutes, closer to forty minutes by bus.  My supervisor picked me up, and the trip took us two hours to get to the school.  It took that long because we had to completely circumnavigate the area, travelling through Wakayama, Mie, Nara Prefectures and then back into Wakayama Prefecture.  At certain spots, we had to stop and wait because the roads could only be used “one way” and in others we had to crawl at a snail’s pace and dodge fallen trees and boulders on the road.  The roads are in poor shape anyways, but add the damage from the last two typhoons and you’re looking at a potential death trap.



Clean-up begins in Wakayama-ken.
http://www.kyodonews.jp/



As we continued to drive back towards civilization, I kept seeing furniture, cars, parts of houses strewn all of the sides of the road.  You really can’t prepare yourself for the shock when you see these massive structures crushed and broken like toys.  The last time I’d seen anything like this was in 2004 after Hurricane Charlie hit Florida, but even then it wasn’t the same.  My supervisor would frequently point out a demolished building or the foundation and sub-floor of something that once was and tell me “Oh, that used to be a preschool” or “My favorite sushi place stood there.”  He also told me that in the early days after Talas, to survey the damage he and a few others from the BOE had to take a helicopter to get to these areas.  It’s been almost a month since Typhoon 12 hit, and the state of things is dismal at best in some places.  This particular area is in the mountain, but running through the mountain is a river, so the people were affected by massive flooding as well as the mudslides caused by the intense rain and wind.

A Self-Defense helicopter lands in Shingu-shi to deliver supplies to people cut-off by the damaged roads.
http://www.kyodonews.jp/

You can certainly say my hopes were not high for what the school was going to be like.  When we finally did arrive, to greet us was a car suspended in the power lines right in front of the school.  With the electricity still running.  For a month, there has been a mini-SUV hanging precariously from live power lines, and yet people were walking under it rather casually, in my opinion.  On the school lawn was like a graveyard of desks, computers, printers, sports equipment, art supplies, chalkboards, musical instruments, and generally things needed to run a school.  The school is two-stories, and the first floor was completely flooded and is still uninhabitable.  The school only has two clubs – baseball and tennis – and their fields and equipment are ruined.  Every day, volunteers from the town go to help sort through what can be salvaged and what is sent to the dump, but it’s going to take a long time to put everything back in order.  While I’ve wanted to volunteer as well, I found out it’s a liability issue for the BOE, so I haven’t been able to do much of anything.

My first day, I taught all three grades, and found the students extremely genki.  That really is the best word to describe it – although they’ve been dealing with this situation for a month, they were all caught up in their studies (compared to a few of my schools, even ahead with the materials) and fully participated in all of the activities.  Normally this school serves school lunch which is eaten on the first floor, but the students have to eat in their homerooms, and the second graders were very surprised I ate lunch with them (“You don’t want to eat in the teacher’s office?”).  A few of them even ogled at my sandwich and asked if I’d made it myself and where I had gotten “brown bread” (wheat bread).  At the end of the day, students always have “cleaning time,” in which they clean their classrooms (in Japan, custodial staff is rare; having the students and staff do the cleaning themselves instills a further sense of pride in one’s school).  However, today, cleaning time consisted of cleaning out one of the sheds that had been used to house damaged furniture from Talas when Roke came through.  My JTE brought me back to the teacher’s office and explained what the students were doing, and that she’d be back for me in a bit. 

“Come back for me?”

“Yes, you stay here, and we can talk about tomorrow’s lessons after.”

“But I want to help.”

“Eh?  Sou desu ka?”

“Hai.”

So, someone found me some gloves and I joined in the clean-up.  We carried out printers and television sets and tables.  We even turned it into a mini English lesson, pointing out different pieces of furniture and giving both the English and Japanese word for it and coming up with adjectives (“Dirty table!”  Rusty chair!”)  These students in particular are interested in how many Japanese words I know, and have no qualms about teaching me new vocabulary.  Every time I would deposit a chair or bag’o’stuff into the huge pile of things to sort through, someone would tell me thank you.  And there were a lot of chairs.  Some even tried stopping me from lifting heavy objects, but I wasn’t going to let a twelve year old girl lift a giant oak desk by herself. 

“Are you okay?  Daijōbudesu ka?”

“Yes,” she said, nearly falling over from the weight.

You’re not an ant dear, you can’t lift things ten times your weight.  “Let me help you.  Heperu.”

“Okay.”

It was in the middle of the afternoon, we were right under the sun, students and staff were bitten by spiders or cut by broken glass, things that were once whole were dropped by boys messing around, but nobody ever complained.  Not once did I hear a “Muzukashi!” or “I don’t want to.”  I think that this is really a testament to the Japanese sense of resiliency.  In times of crisis, they rally together and just get it done.  In America, there are hoops to jump through and legalities to consider, slowing down the process of aid and recovery (I’m looking at you FEMA. *cough* Katrina.).  Even after the Tohoku Disaster last March, the Japanese got to work right away and barely accepted any outside help.  So, it makes sense in a way why I wasn’t expected to help out with cleaning time, but my job isn’t over once the dismissal bell rings.  I was later told that the students and staff were impressed by my work ethic, but technically, speaking, this is my school too.  While I’m only there twice a month, I want the community to be repaired as soon as possible so that the people can get back to a sense of normalcy.  My JTE was telling me that one of the students has to take an hour long taxi-ride, walk thirty minutes, then get picked up by a parent and driven another hour just to get home every day because of the damaged roads.  Despite these inconveniences, the student has not missed a single day of school since it reopened. 

My second day at the school, I taught first and second grade, and I tried my best to remember their names (I only messed up once, confusing two students with their names beginning with an “SH” sound.  Unfortunately, I called the boy the girl’s name by mistake).  The second graders were enthusiastic about an activity in which they had to listen to “my dream” while in Japan, and then fill in the blanks after my dialogue in English.  They were extremely competitive, trying to get a stamp on their paper first.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a student attack a dictionary so veraciously.   The first graders were learning imperative sentences, so we played “Simon Says.”  The students then challenged me to a similar game popular in Japan.  You touch your nose and the other player has to mirror your movements.  So, if they touch and say “head,” so do you.  But if they say “head” and point to their ear, if you touch your head, you lose.  It was pretty fun and the boys especially wanted to trip me up.  Because of the intense cleaning the day before, the students got a reprieve and “cleaning time” consisted of normal sweeping and mopping inside the school.  Then it was back in the car for another two-hour drive to town. 

I won’t be back at this school for a month, but I’m hopeful that conditions will continue to improve, both for the school and the community.  My current inconveniences are nothing compared to theirs, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to see them and help out even though all I did was lug some tables and chairs out of a shed and teach some English.

Even in the tragedy, there is still good news.  This is Goma, the pomeranian from Tanabe-shi who adopted this little monkey orphaned because of the typhoon.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/