Different Country School

Sometimes I feel like I am teaching at a Montessori school in the boondocks of Japan. I am definitely in the backwoods, which is no small feat in Japan. Japan is basically a sprawling messy mass of powerlines, masonry work, and millions of bustling black-haired people. However, Ueno village (the village I live in) is different.

Yesterday, afternoon classes were put on hold so we could all go out and pick garbage up around the river. Last week was even cooler for the wee naturalist inside me. We hiked up the mountain in search of lunch for later that day. Basically, we learned what plants were edible and what were poisonous. We picked the good ones and headed back to the school.

I was part of the rice squad. We made fires by the riverside and boiled rice. I felt like a boy scout with a lighter, minus the sewing. We did one of the most peaceful yet exciting things while the rice boiled; we skipped rocks. It's amazing how trying to find the perfect stone, throwing side-arm, and counting in a different language brings you closer to someone and transcends age and culture.

The tempura squad was battering the wild plants with as much vigor as a pancake chef working in a lumberjack camp with a cathartic reputation. Soon enough the sound of oil splattering stopped and lunch was served. The menu: curry (fireside) rice, wild plant tempura, and edible grass salad.

Next event: the all-school volleyball tournament. You may remember, last year I broke my glasses by blocking a spike with my face.