I am the first to arrive this week to work, as it is my turn to take the early shift. Myself and the other foreign teachers rotate weekly with coming in a half hour before the kids arrive. After going home to America for two weeks, it is the first time in almost a month that it has been my turn to take this shift. Although I love my sleep and sometimes it feels like every minute counts, I have found that I really enjoy coming in early to work. It is the only time of the day in which the school is still silent, with the exception of the occasional phone ringing down the hall in the principal's office. As I enter the school, I stop in the foray and slip off my outdoor shoes and exchange them for my indoor sandals. I walk into the dark hallway and into the principal's office, and flip on the power board, illuminating the entire building. The day is beginning.
Arriving early in the morning gives me time to prepare for the day. To get papers in order, art projects ready, lessons put together, or just time to think about how I'd like the day to run. As much as this small slice of silence is appreciated, I can't help but feel the total emptiness of the school. The classrooms still all look the same, everything is here. Nothing is missing from any of the rooms, or from the library, playroom or music room, but yet, without the children it feels overwhelmingly empty. This space doesn't truly come alive and become the preschool I love until the kids arrive. They fill it with energy, with excitement.
As previously mentioned, I took two weeks off from work to return home and visit my family and friends. More than a year had passed since I had seen the people that I love and I wanted to get a chance to spend time with them before the major Western holidays arrived and I wouldn't be able to afford to make the trip. While it was nice to have fifteen days to myself in beautiful San Diego, I couldn't help feeling like something was missing.
Every time I flipped through the photos on my phone, smiling back at me were the adorable faces from the children in Aurora. When catching up with friends, I made them watch countless videos of my class singing and dancing and being silly. My family and friends didn't admit it, but I probably drove them crazy with how many stories I told about my working life in Japan.
There is no denying that while I was home in California I realized how homesick I was for the place I grew up in. Being around my family and friends was incredible and I felt guilty for forgetting how amazing these people are. I miss the familiarity of my city, of my neighborhood streets, the smell of the morning beach air. I miss the Mexican food San Diego is known for, and the ease of being able to communicate something as simple as a food order. I miss that the most; the ease of communication. You don't realize how hard living abroad is until you can't talk to anyone in your native tongue. The wall I face everyday with language makes the simplest tasks unbelievably challenging.
But more than those things mentioned about, I realized while I was home that I am attached to Aurroa in a very real way. Working at The World has become a huge part of my life, that I will always remember. Part of the way I define my identity is by the job I do, and I am happy to be able to tell people that I am a preschool teacher in Japan.
I have been working with Aurora since April, and the progress I've seen from my class is remarkable. Most of my class can speak to me in English, even if on the most basic level. Everyday kids are learning new vocabulary and are becoming more independent in completing tasks themselves. Of course we still have our ups and downs but the ups are becoming so much higher, and the downs are becoming smoother to pass through. My class is incredibly intelligent, and seeing their growth in less than half a year is beyond rewarding for me. I have a lot of pride in the work that my partner and I do, and I am grateful that we are able to work so well together.
More than being proud of them for their improvement as ESL students, I realized that I love them for the unique and adorable kids that they are. They are each so different from one another, and so different than any of the children I have worked with over the past ten years. I missed them while I was home, and returning to The World after two weeks of absence felt like an adrenaline rush. As they came in the door and saw me in the classroom they charger towards me, jumping on me and hugging me, while screaming, "Allie Sensei!!!!" One student grabbed my leg and wrapped his body around me and wouldn't let go, no matter how much I tried to shake him off . They were just as happy to see me as I was to see them, and it was good to see the strength in the relationship I have formed with them.
