Spring

By Rick Ambrosio, ALT, Ibaraki-ken, 2006 – 2008

Of the two years I spent teaching English in Japan, certain memories linger in my dreams. Although the recollections have an ethereal feel, the moments were quite real. I vividly remember the days when I would find myself at my desk in the teachers’ room and realize it was time to leave for the day. I picture myself bowing to my co-workers and heading down the empty hallway toward the exit. Light filters through the windows and cascades into the classrooms, sparsely populated with students studying. I walk past and they look up, waving and giving me an excited yet hushed “Riku-sensei!” 
As I walk from the front entrance of the school, I quickly glance at the school girls on the third floor, who always seem to be watching the boy’s soccer team practicing in the parking lot below. As I take two steps from the entrance, I am greeted by bows and a booming “konnichiwa” from them all. Spring fever is in the air. The sweaty smiling faces of boys in cleats; the excited girls chatting and texting messages on their keita by the rows of large one-speed mama-chari bikes; everyone I pass seems to be invigorated by the now-apparent changing of the seasons.
As I walk further down the street I stare at the light pink cherry blossoms that bloom on overhanging trees; I grin mischievously in anticipation of the upcoming festivities these short-lived and exquisite flowering buds will bring as we celebrate hanami, the festival of flower watching. Young school children cheer unintelligibly in lines marching down the pavement, their reflective backpacks and matching caps bob up and down like neon caterpillars, anxious to take flight. 
As I meander closer to my apartment, a flock of my students on bicycles pass by me; they speed into the distance, weaving their way back home through the small streets of my town. To this day I still wonder how they manage to write text messages and ride their bikes at the same time. 
I arrive home and cast open the shades and windows, allowing the wind to pulse through my fourth floor apartment. I smell spring in my nose, just as I did as a child – when winter finally rested and creation once again became enamored with the earth. My lungs beat with anticipation for the unknown awakening that is taking root. I feel visceral and relaxed at the same time. I feel as if I have wings on my feet and the world awaits me.
The dream then floats away like a light sweet veil as I wake. I’ve come to realize that these memories of my time well-spent in Japan will live with me forever. Even when I am old and delirious I will yearn for these days that have passed and now come to me only in dreams, since my life has brought me back over an ocean and I’ve returned home. And my mother wonders why I sleep so late.

* This article was published in June 2007.

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