play
I spent the whole morning being molestered by first-graders. As shy as they were at first (I heard them whispering among themselves whether they should greet me with "harro [hello]," "konnichiwa," or at all), I soom had groups of little mini girl-children dragging me around attached to my arms. They were intent on showing me around the school, including using the liberty of their new-found authority to do things that they wouldn't normally be allowed to do like banging on the drums in the music room, climbing lighting ladders in the gym and running rampant on the school roof. Of course, whatever superior status I'd been given by adding the sub-title "sensei" to my name was not enough to merit obedience when I said something was dangerous or "probably not good" to do. Damn near gave me a heart attack.
Being first graders, the kids didn't seem to be required to do much of anything resembling true "Schoolwork," except the practice of various reading and writing. Over half of their day was spent in calinsthetics, recess, cleaning the classroom and eating lunch. When I ate with them, they assaulted me with questions about what sort of food we ate in America, how old I was, whether I knew about the Tokyo Tower and what I thought of Japan. For some reason, most of them (and even the adults in the teacher's lounge) thought I was a New Zealander or Australian upon first glance. I guess Americans are still pretty rare here. When they kids found out I was 21, they all screamed WAKAI!!! (YOUNG!!!) uproariously, and even more so when they heard I was a college student. Still, several of the girls attached to my arms found it even more thrilling to learn that I DIDN'T have kids and I WASN'T married but I had a boyfriend in America. What puzzles me was their amazement with my marital status and lack of children given the increasing marriage age and declinging birth rate in Japan.
The first graders were most thrilled when I was on their team for dodge-ball during morning calinsthetics. I had a squad of three or four of them blockading me from the opposite team at all times. And I now gather that although they regularly perform these morning exercises in naught but shorts and tee-shirts, the kids aren't immune to cold. Most of them spent the whole time with their arms tucked against their chests inside their shirts. Makes me wonder what they do when it snows!
I felt slightly odd playing on teams with the kids in the morning and then again at recess when they invited me to tag. Later in the day, when a group of fourth-graders elected me to dodge-ball with them, I realized what the weird feeling was. Aside from my towering stature and otherwise physical discomfort, I felt awkward simply because it has been so long since I've played like a child. I tried, since a very young age, to remind myself that I would never forget how to play and never give up playing, but somehow the activity has still slipped away from me. Now, trying it again (although out of my age group) made me feel... old. I found myself worrying that someone would be hurt, that I didn't know how to play the right way, and that everyone was out to get me when, in fact, they were just having a good-old game. I don't remember what it's like to be a part of games like that. Maybe I've lost the ability?
I'd like to think that, instead, I've moved on to other games played in other arenas. But it seems sad to me still that trying to "play" with and like children now makes me mentally (not so much physically) exhausted. My host mom goes to the school every day at 7:30AM and doesn't come back till near six. Sometimes she does grading for several hours in an evening. With a class size of over thirty students and several chronic class clowns to handle I can see why she always falls asleep around ten.
The kids in this school seem to have a much bigger reign of the place than I remember having as a child. Then again, being in an elementary school again made me realize that I don't, in fact, remember much of that time at all. Which is a shame. When did I start to worry so much about children hurting themselves? Or misbehaving? Or that they might be wicked or too curious? When did all the good things that I enjoyed myself at that age turn into things worry me at this one?
Am I such a crone already?
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