Last week I began to pack up the Aurora classroom. I stood
in the room, empty without children, and began to slowly take down all of their
artwork, careful not to rip the edges as I peeled the tape from the wall. After
their artwork was removed, I started on the Itadakimas and Chicka Chicka Boom
Boom murals. These giant piece of artwork had taken hours of effort from myself
and the students and had decorated our classroom for almost a year, and in
moments they would be lying on the floor, being cut into pieces, each child
being given a special section to take home.
Once I was left with nothing but bare walls, I stood on a
chair and reached for the chain of stars that bordered the room. A chain of
about 100 stars made by my class, each unique and original, just like the
children in Aurora. As I pulled the last star down from the ceiling, I couldn’t
stop thinking about how quickly the year had passed, how in the blink of an
eye, the kids in Aurora had become soon-to-be Shooting Stars.
The week I spent preparing Aurora to become Shooting Star
was an emotional week for me. As I flipped through their art
books, I was able to see their progression that they’d made over the year,
starting with scribbles and un-discernable images, to each developing their own
creative style of artwork. As I looked at all the activities we had done, I
realized how much they had learned and how much progress each student had made
in communication. When I entered the
classroom last April, they were just babies, half of them hardly out of
diapers. They didn't speak English and they cried for their moms everyday. My
first impression of the class was how loud they were. The non-stop screaming
and yelling and noise in a language I didn't understand. When I began, I didn't like it. I wondered why I had
accepted the job and went home everyday asking myself how I was going to make
it through the year? Every name and face was foreign and unfamiliar, just as I
was to them. They preferred my Japanese partner and most of them refused to
interact with me.
As I arrived early each day last week to work on the
classroom, preparing it for the new Aurora class, I realized not just how
far they had come, but how far I had as well. I began this job feeling
overwhelmed, insecure and almost always exhausted from a day of work with them.
What were once unfamiliar faces of children I didn't know, were now the most
adorable faces in my life. In different ways, I’d grown attached to every child
and despite the language barrier I'd learned ways to get to know them and figure
out their weaknesses and strengths. As the kids arrived at school, I could tell
just by the sound of their footsteps who was coming down the hall. This past
year I’d worked so hard to give them the English to communicate with me, but I'd
also studied and tried to learn the basic Japanese they would be using
everyday, so that I could translate for them, as well as understand their
wants.
When I arrived I had promised myself just one year. Stay for
a year to teach in a good school, save some money, and explore and experience
life in Japan. As eleven months approached and I was given the option to
re-contract and teach the same group of kids, I knew I had to take it. The
happiness that they have added to my life is not something I'm ready to leave
yet.
Working with Aurora, and staying another year to see them grow and shine as Shooting Stars, is an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I can't wait to see how far they will be by the time next April arrives.
