The class of 2006

The school year in Japan runs to a slightly different timetable that the one we are used to in the UK. The school year draws to a close in the last week of March and the new year commences in the first week of April. Without sounding like too much of a tree-hugger, spring seems to me like a good time for the school year to begin, being the season of new life and, erm things. The students have about a week or so between one grade and the next, so they haven’t got time to forget how to write or anything like that – I remember going to school after an interminable amount of time only to find writing to be a real struggle. The principal holiday comes in August and all students, even the littlest ones, have homework to do. Children in northern prefectures like Hokkaido get shorter summer holidays and longer winter ones, as the immense snow can force schools to close at the height of winter. Even though there was almost 3m (10ft) of snow in Itakura, not one school day was cancelled due to snow. When you know you will get such a volume of snow every winter, you create ways to live through it. I will certainly never look at snow in the same way again!
My third grade students from Junior High School had their graduation ceremony on Monday. The Japanese have their own unique style for doing even the most mundane of things (tea ceremony, for example), so I didn’t know what to expect from a Junior High School graduation. The Japanesey-ness of the day was kicked off with the female third grade teachers all wearing kimono. From what I understand, putting a kimono on makes putting a kilt on seem like a walk in the park. Being incredibly tight and involving many layers, Miura Sensei told me that she was up at 5.30am to get the whole kit and caboodle in place. I, on the other hand, pealed myself off my futon at 7.30am and threw a suit on. I reiterate once more, it’s great being a bloke.
One thing I was expecting from the day was that it would be chilly in the gym hall. Only classrooms and the staff room are heated in Japanese schools, so it gets a bit nippy elsewhere. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the school had acquired what seemed to be four jet engines for the purpose of heating the hall. Get too close to these mammoth beasts and expect all your clothes and body hair to disintegrate in a puff. Anyway, with these beauties growling away in the corner, things were toasty enough.
So, to the proceedings. First and second grade, along with staff and parents were sat awaiting the arrival of the graduates-to-be. This period gave ample opportunity to practice saying ohayougozaimasu (good morning) nice and loudly, and also to make sure that the level of clapping was suitably frantic. That done, the third graders were clapped into the hall. At this point the heaters were turned off to preserve the silence and reflective aspect of the moments to come. Once the students were seated (boys with hands in a fist on top of their knees and girls with hands clasped on their lap), the principal got up to say a few words. Following this, it was straight into the graduating. A line of students was formed, with five marked stages between their seats and the stage where they would receive their certificates. That way the students knew where they ought to be standing at each given moment. As names where called, students replied with a vigorous “Hai!” They then walked up to the principal who held their certificate outstretched. Bow, right hand, left hand, receive certificate, side-step right (or left, depending on what side of the hall you are seated on), new student takes your place, you and the new student bow together (I think this was to reduce to amount of bowing the principal had to do, he’s getting old you see). There was no clapping during this part of the ceremony, but it was done to the music to the Hamlet cigar adverts (one for the UK readers).
Next, a very old man got up to say something and then the head of the Parent-Teacher Association said something – I’d love to fill you in on finer points of what was said, but it was all in Japanese. It was then over to the students to give their thoughts. Obviously it was a very emotional time, but it was multiplied ten-fold for the students thanks to the accompaniment of very slow, let’s-slit-our-wrists style piano music. The first girl to speak got about half way through her speech, but broke down while recalling her second grade school trip to Kyoto. This opened the floodgates and soon most of the females present were sobbing. I was able to remain emotionally neutral thanks to not being able to understand what the girl was saying, a cunning ploy of mine.
Next the students sang the school song for the last time and then another song that seemed to be specifically designed to make as many of the students cry as possible. This worked like a treat and many of the students left in tears. A line was made outside the school and the third graders were given a rapturous send off.
The staff was then treated to a sushi lunch. Luckily, Suzuki Sensei had given me a heads up on this and I managed to avoid the octopus, fish eggs and eel, which decorated the plates of other staff. At 5.00pm, after an afternoon spent wrestling with the sandman, the staff took a bus to a hotel in the nearby village of Arai. Another feast was laid out and alcohol was flowing freely. I successfully searched out some pork and chicken and was tucking into some clear noodles when I asked the teacher next to me what style of noodle I was eating (they looked sort of fat and udon-like to me). “Sou da ne, hm… how do you say in English… ah, jellyfish!” I could not believe it and spent the next five minutes looking like a muppet whilst trying to get everyone to admit they were having me on. No, true enough, it was jellyfish – not the tentacles, but the head part (or body, if you look at it that way) sliced into strips. It had a jelly-like texture, but there was something hard that you had to crunch through if you wanted to chew it. The flavour was negligible at best, but Japanese food seems to be about texture over flavour a lot of the time. In Japan, westerners have a reputation for being culinary prudes, and I bear this out from time to time. When in the company of others though, it’s better to get the food down you and ask questions later! If the Japanese have been eating the stuff for eons, chances are that it won’t do you any harm.
The meal ended with some staff members giving their thoughts on the day and the previous year as a whole. After each speech, three rounds of “banzai!!” are called, much in the way we say “hip-hip hooray!”
A good night was had by all. Tuesday was equally as emotional as Monday, but for somewhat different reasons.
Note: as you can see, the girl in the centre of the top picture (one of my favourite students incidentally) is giving the "double-reverse-peace-sign." It doesn't carry the same significance here as it does in the UK...