Self-conscious musings

As published in the August 2008 issue of Awa Life Magazine:

The Sudachi Rolls On

The first thing I ever remember saying goodbye to was, oddly enough, a Native American rain stick. I was young, six or seven maybe, and my father had asked me several times to remove my souvenir, a shoddily made piece of wood likely crafted by vagabonds in Deadwood, South Dakota, from the family garage where I had left it. Eventually Dad’s patience ran out, and in frustration he snapped the stick and all of its racially exploitative powers over his knee. I cried like a damn fool that day, but I learned a lesson: I don’t take well to change. And I still don’t.

August is at once an exciting and wistful time for many English teachers in Japan as it marks a changing of the guard for the JET Program. A hefty rice scoop-full of sempai teachers are swapped out for fresh faces, and those of us who stay on in our positions are left caught between celebrating the new and mourning the old – much like attending both a baptism and a funeral on the same day, only with the added bonus of being able to poke the dead via Facebook after they’ve passed. Like John and Paul, we say hello while you say goodbye, but chances are we won’t reach a neat resolution to our feelings after only 3 minutes 27 seconds. And as someone who’s due to be directly affected by this scenario, I’m cautious.

Nevertheless, here’s what I’ve come up with. Embrace the new. Toast to the old. Take solace in the fact that there are those around you who have been through such a change before. Because no matter how strange it may be to walk back through the glass doors of Tokushima Airport to greet the new charges, it’s always going to be stranger for those walking towards you. There’s a good chance they just said goodbye to someone too - maybe in New York or in Sydney or in some other part of Japan, but the emotions make a common home. We owe it to each other to greet with dry eyes.

For most of us, change is nothing new. But somewhere along the timeline, a disturbance occurred, and instead of our parents or some outside force urging us to leave our friends and belongings behind, we started to do it to ourselves. We make decisions that, whether for the sake of a new job or a new challenge or a change of heart, pull us away from the people and places we love. Suddenly, the stick breaks over our own knee. It’s a crying shame, but at least at 24 I think maybe that’s just the way it is.

So if it’s true that you gain wisdom with time, here’s what I hope to have learned in my first year in Japan. Reach out to those who now wear your hand-me-downs. Ask for a ride from the person who now drives your best friend’s car. Take someone out for a welcome party, and for the love of God, offer to pay for their dinner. And if nothing else, send them to me. I’ve never been good at this change thing, and I’ve got some rather large holes to fill.