Exit Strategy

I've never been in a place in which people are so interested in the exact date of my departure. It seems like 8.8.2006, although not yet set in stone as my date of departure, has been tatooed all over my body. "When are you leaving?" is the one question besides "genki desuka?" that everyone asks me. It's not exactly buckets of fun. Buckets of rain, however, are now falling down over my roof in the darkness of the night.

It's taken me a while to realize just how much of a world-unto-itself this town is to so many of the people who live here. For the first half of the year, many of my superiors would practically yell for me to stay three years (the maximum someone in my position can stay in a town). The truth always was that I'd never planned to stay more than a year. I am not going to lie though: it was tough never being able to meet those high expectations - and it drained me. I felt a little like Santa Claus refusing to give presents to kids or something. For a while I would reply "maybe," when people asked me if I'd stay another year. "I'm sorry" or "it's life" was all I could ever come up with when I finally told them the truth.

The kids, of course, are probably the most open-minded people of this town. They are what make this town - and the job - so special. And it's they who I really care about when I am leaving. I want to be sure that they will keep growing up strong, healthy, and happy. And I am almost positive most of them will. They have so much going for them, such great teachers. Today my class with two sets of twins (in eight students total) asked me when I was leaving and I wrote the date on the board (which didn't seem to upset them too much). Then I told the three fifth graders (all girls, including the Gotou twins) in the class that I might go on the beach trip with them in the start of August. They were really happy and the five fourth graders (all boys, including the Watanabe twins) were a little disappointed they couldn't come as well.

All in all, the kids of Ubuyama will be fine - and that means I will be leaving this town with neither worries nor grief (and many happy memories of being a teacher of pre-K through 9th graders).