My Kids

The day came. As a last minute surprise (I don't think it was suppose to be) the mothers and grandmothers of my students came to say goodbye and present a gift...many actually. Most of the time I just wasn't sure what was expected. Do I sit, do I run the show, do I show off the kids? Thankfully the kids were in a show-off mood. We did our lion hunt song and our little acrobat handclap. When it came time for the mothers to present their gifts I could see the emotions rise. Most of it was from their nervousness over speaking English to me. I could see the wrestling match in their eyes even if I couldn't recognize the words as the responsibility to share their note in English was passed from person to person. 


 Then a brave mother stepped forward, baby in arm, and began reading the short but disastrously emotion ridden note. She spoke, I teared up, and then she paused. THE pause. You know what it means when it comes: it means she's trying to hold it together and that always has the opposite affect for the listener. She thanked me for my sweetness and strictness with the kids and said she hoped we would see each other again. Funny statement considering she had only met me maybe once in person and a majority of the time was over an online camera connection, but it was still sweet. I then saved us both from further tears by having the kids begin the pack-up routine. As they packed I went to shake hands. Then the tears came. I couldn't help it. I could keep it together when faced with my little ones that I would miss, but when I faced their mothers I lost it.  


When hugs began I was able to pull it together a bit more. With each hug I tried to say the words I wanted to leave them with the most: For my ADHD trouble child, I wanted to leave him with the words, "You're a smart boy." To my energetic, laughing boy I wanted to leave him with a smile. To my clingy children I wanted to leave them with one last hug and the hope of seeing each other again. I tried to treasure their words as well. Even the hard ones to hear. "Don't go back to America!" "I'll miss you." "Don't forget me." That last one drove me to a tall Starbucks matcha frappuccino.  


 After I was finally able to drag my heart away from little hands that left their unique handprints all over it, there was still the goodbyes to assistants and coworkers. I still have to face one more class and list of goodbyes as well as goodbyes to bosses and familiar sights. Like I told my brother, I still have no absolute feeling of surety in my leaving Japan. I am simply moving in a direction that I don't see as a mistake and trusting God for the rest. I don't want to hold onto my gift of Japan longer than what it was meant for, but this has become a home. Maybe one I can come back to, but I'm still so thankful for the time I had.