Deja vu

On Sunday evening, I received an email from my to-be principal a reminder that she will be picking me up from Otsu station the next morning for the staff meeting. Gulp. I had totally thought that the meeting was on Tuesday and school was only starting on Wednesday. Thank God for the reminder.

The arrangement was that I would cycle back a bicycle from the school after the meeting so that I can use it as a mode of transport to school on Tuesday morning. After the meeting when I took off with the bicycle without checking it, I realised that I had a wheel problem. Again.

In the scorching heat under the afternoon sun, I pushed the bike to a nearby petrol station to pump it up, only to realise that the pump did not fit the mouth of the wheel. Looking the totally distressed gaijin, I sought help with the ojiisan at the station who brought me to the car tyre shop next door. The typical nice-guy-next-door Japanese car mechanic fixed my wheels for me. For free.

I happily commended my wit and intelligence internally ("I'm good, I'm good") and set off for the station. Midway through, I joined 2 school girls who were also headed for the station and guided me along an enjoyable river view route when the cycling, once again, took on a different feel.

Cluck cluck, cluck cluck. It was a familiar yet dreaded sound. The sound of a flat tyre, the feel of increasingly difficult pedalling. Deja vu. This morning, the principal had to pick me AND the bicycle up from the station to school. After school I pushed the bike to a nearby bike shop and had it fixed for 840yen. I'm still good *wink. When the car comes in this Friday, I should be able to free myself from bike problems.

Anyways, school was uneventful. For the 2-year old kids I'm handling, I must say I was impressed by their ability to understand and obey instructions in English, know a fair amount of difficult words like giraffe, and able to converse (seemingly) intelligently in Japanese with their counterparts (which of course, for most parts, I, the teacher, do not understand). And as true blue Japanese are, even 2 year-olds are very disciplined and sanitised (read: indoor shoes, personal hankies and bringing their own lunch bentos).

There were initial doubts in me as I observed the cutesy way the teachers had to be to handle and communicate with them, and felt rather out of place. I thought I was more at ease being in the office at a desk doing land allocation. After a few minutes of being in them and with them, the training from years of children's camp kicked in. Deja vu indeed...