This year was my last year as an ALT. I had cards made for all my graduating junior high school students, I had presents and cards and pictures from the last days of two of my schools, and I was slowly but steadily packing and getting ready to make my way home. Slowly but steadily there pretty much meant procrastinating any way possible however, so I'm not quite sure it counts.
I really didn't want to go home. Japan has been wonderful to me; I have great friends that I made here, the people are amazing, the country is beautiful, and the toilet has a butt warmer--fabulous in winter. But I really didn't want to stay another year. Conundrum. But there you are. Also my father has really been playing up on his cancer and treatment, and guilted me into the decision.
Always blame the parents for difficult decisions.
My second to last day at one of my elementary schools, my students and I were having a great time. They were really energetic and excited about the games, we took pictures together, and the graduating sixth graders spent the entire day getting food and decorations ready for a party for all the teachers. The rest of the students were sent home a little early for this reason.
On March 12, I and all the other teachers were sitting in the second floor of my elementary school while the students prepared to feed us sweets and entertain us with songs and a play. It had just started when the earthquake hit.
As with all the earthquakes, there is a slight pause while everyone figures out how bad it's going to get, before either shrugging it off or diving under the nearest protective covering. As soon as the students realized that this one would be rough, they were under the desks.
The children in Japan are much better trained in logic than the adults.
The teachers, at first, stayed in their seats and made sure all the students were safe.
Until of course the quake refused to end, and in fact got worse. Then they did the best they could to keep shit from falling over, and keep the students under the tables--which were on wheels. Everything was on wheels.
I stayed in my seat for a bit and held the two tables together, to keep them over the students, because the tables were sliding everywhere. Then I saw a cup of tea about to slide off the table, and because I'm brilliant in situations like this I stood up to keep it from spilling.
I ended up on the floor covered in tea and sweets. It was a special moment.
I'll describe this doomquake as best I can: it was like an intense amusement park ride, with broken seat belts.
Which I've done, so I know from experience.
You know those graviton rides they have in some carnivals? Have you ever tried to move around while they're going? It was kind of like that. None of my limbs seemed to be able to do what I wanted them to do, because my body didn't understand what gravity was trying to tell it. Moving was extremely difficult. Luckily I am extremely stubborn.
I managed to right myself, though it was difficult with the earth attempting to throw me off--ironically in my youth I used to love this t-shirt I had that read "stop the earth, I want to get off!" and for a moment my brain flashed back to this, thinking that maybe I had offended it and it was going to oblige me. Then I noticed a large television stand, with an equally large and heavy looking television on top, rolling around the floor. Because it too was on wheels.
See the structures in Japan are built for earthquakes. They're made to sway and bend, to keep from breaking. It's very efficient. But evidently no one thought to do anything logical or efficient with the shit inside the buildings.
So I tried to maneuver over and hold onto this television stand, as well as the two tables, and avoid getting tossed around myself like a rag doll in a dryer. It sort of worked. The TV stand fell over anyway, barely avoiding crushing me, and I sat there and listened to all the teachers yelling at the students to "hand in there, it's almost over, just hang in there!" and the students crying silently and trying their best to be brave and support each other. They were terrified.
Even I got a bit nervous.
Normally I'm fine with earthquakes. The first big one I experienced in Japan was three years ago, and I woke up at the end of if, grunted, rolled over, and went back to sleep. The next big one was the previous Wednesday to the doomquake, and it was during class. It was kind of fun. Earthquakes don't bother me.
This one was rough. And it took for freaking ever. I started laughing quietly because I really had no idea what to do, and it seemed like the earth was just going to shake forever, or rattle itself apart and leave us spinning in space. It might have been my version of hysterics, not sure, but the teachers seemed to take a moment to look at me in a concerned way.
When it finally ended, everyone took several breaths before the mad rush to get the hell off the second floor of the school and into the gym, which is the designated safe earthquake zone.
Some of the students were still crying and clinging to each other. Two really small students, maybe first graders, had been trapped outside during the whole thing, crouched down by a concrete wall and holding on to each other for dear life. A teacher ran out and brought them into the gym, trying to calm down their hysterical crying. Every time an aftershock occurred that was even a little rough they would start crying again.
People who had been out on the streets and passed students walking home brought them into the gym, and parents and other children started trickling into the gym as well. Families from nearby houses came in to either find their children or seek shelter themselves. I helped out as best I could keeping the kids calm while they waited for their parents to come get them.
But I eventually started to feel useless, because there really wasn't much I could do once everyone had calmed down, and I began quietly trying to make my way to my car, to head home.
And then my kyoto sensei, the vice principal, told me I had to stay, because there was a tsunami coming.
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