St. Maur's International School, Yamate

Hot tea and jam on muffins each morning accompanied by fragrant birthday lillies adorning a table which bubbles with hyped energy. Parents pass verbal reminders of schedules, administrivia, and "honey I gotta go". Baby S.P. demands full attention and does the circuit, as he's handed off while dishes are cleared, shoes are tied, and bottles are filled. Morning is a 'don't blink or you'll miss it' time in which these Yokohama Urban Professionals cram grooming and baby daycare preps into slated segments of tasks done with clockwork precision. Routine?, yes. Easy?, no way! I'm exhausted just watching them. I find I am mentally reminding myself to remain calm, more for them than for me... hoping some of my relaxed disposition will rub off on them. Meanwhile, dotted across the concrete landscape of greater Yokohama and stretching to Tokyo and beyond, litterally millions of others are rushing in similar fashion to pull it together and get out of the house. BUT, the majority do not have cars, nor do they have a buffer zone for the occasionally late arrival time. They go by foot, by bike, by train, and they are punctual and efficient. Ladies and gentlemen of all ages in all professions are peddling and dashing in their skirts and trench coats, dodging swift moving miniaturized automobiles with models we've not seen but are needed to fit their narrow streets and slim sidewalks.

A morning of instruction en espanol! I am in thrust into the rush hour commuter pool. Flashing my rail pass at the turnstyle, I try to recall my route to school and practice pronunciation of the places ahead so I may ask for directions when needed. "Eki Ishikawa-cho doko, kudasai?" Where's the Ishikawa-cho train station, please? I point at my rail map. My transfers are swift and soon I am exiting onto Motomachi Avenue. I ask to make sure I am headed the right way. "None of the boutiques have opened", says a man in Japanese, when he asks me what I'm looking for and I say the shopping district. He aks what I want, and I point to my clothes, rubbing the material between my fingers..., meaning I want to get to the area that sells clothes because the base of road I turn off at starts just after Baby Gap. How do you express that? In my head I am having a completely different conversation but have no idea how to convey my needs beyond this initial attempt. He doesn't want to send me their because he knows the shoppes do not open 'til later. He suggests coffee. "Domo arigato gozauimasu," I quip, turning to go.

I fly up the winding path, passing black and white spotted kittens sleeping in a tipped whicker basket at eye level on a side porch. More cats walking along the fence and perched on retaining walls of gardens. I climb the steps which provide a shortcut to the cresting road beyond the Foreigner's Cemetary. A calico is on a limb in the middle of the hill. He offers several "good morning" meows. I want to be on time for my guest speaker engagement.

Anita teaches Spanish and English with Kristin at Saint Maur's catholic k-12 school in the peaceful and oh so chic Yamate neighborhood utop the bluff overlooking Yamate and Motomachi. I check into the main office and receive my visitor's pass. Kristin fetches me and hands me off to Anita who is running an errand. She sweeps me off to the village to post a letter. We chatter away in Spanish on topics in and out of the classroom. I share my ideas for the sixth grade lesson. This is an exploratory class in week three. They know how to meet and greet, how to count, and report their age.

A dozen blue uniformed children donning sweaters, skirts and ties file in. They appear most inquisitive and studious. It's not an act. They are organized and eager to participate. Anita introduces me and the children respond with a rote greeting, "Buenos dias maestro." After a brief "me llamo", I dive into a reading aloud and pronunciation tip: isolating syllables by slash lines of separation. Ho/la co/mo est/as.... E/sta/dos U/ni/dos... mit/su/bi/shi...Yo/ka/ha/ma... I tease them by mixing in Japanese words using our Roman alphabet. I explain the close similaries of phonetic rules between the two languages. They quickly get the hand of it and are reading all the words on the board with ease. I use an emphatic method of exaggerative syllable separation, as though we are chanting and repeating, faster and faster. Next I pull out an old favourite of mine that some of my Spanish Ones will remember. It's the military style chant of reciting the alfabeto en espanol. We establish the extra four letters (ch, ll, n, rr) and soon I play the role of drill sargeant and they retort to the tune of "sound off, one, two, three, four... one, two..... three, four" only using letras. This drill speeds up and is followed by first group process of spelling aloud the names of classmates we've recorded on the board. Then they break into groups to spell their names (Pedro, Estrella, Antonio...) and their countries of origin and/or street names. We come back for a briefing on time telling. They transition with a group, verbal recitation of numbers one thru sixty. They are quick to conceptualize the basics of adding and taking away the number of minutes from the nearest hour. I provide the key question "?Que hora es?" plus the equation for response using "son las (hora) y/menos minutos". Popping a few practice clocks on the board and volunteers are immediately making successful attempts. This is a sign of a supportive environment, and teachers who encourage risk taking and participation in the classroom. The period ends, after a flash 45 minutes, with partners drawing two clocks and writing and verbalizing the time to eachother. There's the bell, and a "gracias Senor Carver" later I am swept back to Kristin's office. Very impressive group, muy listos.

Next little Oscar from Mexico City appears for one-on-one grammar and conversation practicum with Kristin, as Learning Strategist. He is a delightful lad with no shortage of words. He freely shares stories of traveling in Japan and recommends a visit to Nikko, to view the carved Monkey Trio depicting See, Hear, and Speak no evil. Kristin asks that we cover a sticky area for Oscar (and most Spanish speakers) employing the use of comparatives and superlatives. With smiles, he plugs away at producing sentences until the errors are eradicated. I use Spanish grammar explanations and sample sentences to translate, to assist him in arriving at a fuller comprehension of terms and usage. Kristin has a warm rapport with him. She balances encouragement, sensitivity and humour to maintain his interest.

The afternoon and evening revolve around sushi eating and a visit to one of a gazillion pastry shoppes I keep seeing in every quartier. During the day, they are full of woman sipping tea and munching on croissants and other tantilizing filled sweets. With a pinch of self-guilt, I skip doing anything too productive, and go home. At least emails and blog time were accomplished.

I play Nanny Bruce, picking up Sean Patrick at Japanese DayCare, meeting Kristin at the station. Kristin and I go out for conveyor belt sushi, served up in a flashy, mirrored ceiling restaurant with pendulum lighting. It's an enclosed bar in which you watch the chefs before you prepare and place saucers of various sushi onto a conveyor belt that revolves around the room. You pull off the plates you desire, and the color of the plate indicates the price. All the plates are recorded by a check-box system upon completion of dining. Hot tea is piped in via metal tubed plumping that the customer freely taps from the faucet at your seat.

For those of you who won't be visiting Japan anytime soon, please do consider a weekend evening at the famed Rock & Roll Sushi dining at Ben Kay, corner of India and Commercial Streets, Portland.