(no subject)
The season of mists has come to this coast. The air's heavy, and easily provoked by winds that know nothing of constancy. It smells like another spring when I take the short-cut back through the forest's edge, squelching across soggy loam and sprawling vines that have reclaimed the old road for now. Except spring had a fresh tang, not the wet pulpyness of overgrowth.
My town is in an NHK feature right now - on my TV screen there's the middle-school I walk by every day, halfway down the hill whereupon sits the senior high school. The sumo team is the topic of this half-hour special. The dedicated, hard-working sumo team whose practice ring I never noticed at the edges of the kidlet-corral playground. What else have I failed to learn about this place?
First of the two bunkasai days at school, and I only sang one song for a rag-tag student duo who pulled my fellow ALT and jazz-man vice principal in at the last minute to fill out their sound, but I felt a lot less like a tourist at my own workplace this time around. Tomorrow afternoon my third-year students are dancing. I'm contemplating getting loligawth'd up, since the school festival typically gives students and those without the somber dignity of administrative status a get-out-of-jail-free card in terms of costuming. I spied one of my first-year boys in a nurse's outfit, for no other apparent reason than because he could get away with it on this day of days.
He even shaved his legs.
My town is in an NHK feature right now - on my TV screen there's the middle-school I walk by every day, halfway down the hill whereupon sits the senior high school. The sumo team is the topic of this half-hour special. The dedicated, hard-working sumo team whose practice ring I never noticed at the edges of the kidlet-corral playground. What else have I failed to learn about this place?
First of the two bunkasai days at school, and I only sang one song for a rag-tag student duo who pulled my fellow ALT and jazz-man vice principal in at the last minute to fill out their sound, but I felt a lot less like a tourist at my own workplace this time around. Tomorrow afternoon my third-year students are dancing. I'm contemplating getting loligawth'd up, since the school festival typically gives students and those without the somber dignity of administrative status a get-out-of-jail-free card in terms of costuming. I spied one of my first-year boys in a nurse's outfit, for no other apparent reason than because he could get away with it on this day of days.
He even shaved his legs.