Stick a Needle in My Eye
I was talking to one of the elementary teachers as a group of my most loyal first years were, quite literally, hanging off me. The teacher said she'd read my article in the town news letter about my difficult decision to stay in Japan or return home.
The tugging all over my body instantly stopped. I looked down to see a sea of absolutely shocked little faces.
"You're leaving?" they all said in chorus. Like they'd rehearsed it.
"Probably," I said. "In August."
Their expressions reminded me of footage of people reacting to the assassination of JFK. One girl started crying. (I've been having a terrible time with little kids and tears this week.)
Then the chanting began:
"Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. Don't go."
I looked back up to the teacher for help. She looked oddly triumphant as if she'd planned this.
The kids would not be consoled until I promised I wouldn't go.
There's a phrase Japanese children use: 大人の約束 (literally, "an adult's promise") It means a promise that won't be kept completely or at all.
I'm about to become an adult to these kids. Because the forms are signed and they're going in TODAY. I'm going home.
(As a side note, a 5th year just happened to be in the corridor with me and the kids at the time. He grinned when I said I was leaving and raced up the stairs. When I left, most of the fifth years were staring down at me from the railing and yelling "Goodbye Marie! Goodbye Marie!" in a very ironic way. At least they'll be happy when I go. lol)
The tugging all over my body instantly stopped. I looked down to see a sea of absolutely shocked little faces.
"You're leaving?" they all said in chorus. Like they'd rehearsed it.
"Probably," I said. "In August."
Their expressions reminded me of footage of people reacting to the assassination of JFK. One girl started crying. (I've been having a terrible time with little kids and tears this week.)
Then the chanting began:
"Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. Don't go."
I looked back up to the teacher for help. She looked oddly triumphant as if she'd planned this.
The kids would not be consoled until I promised I wouldn't go.
There's a phrase Japanese children use: 大人の約束 (literally, "an adult's promise") It means a promise that won't be kept completely or at all.
I'm about to become an adult to these kids. Because the forms are signed and they're going in TODAY. I'm going home.
(As a side note, a 5th year just happened to be in the corridor with me and the kids at the time. He grinned when I said I was leaving and raced up the stairs. When I left, most of the fifth years were staring down at me from the railing and yelling "Goodbye Marie! Goodbye Marie!" in a very ironic way. At least they'll be happy when I go. lol)