We recently learned that we are staying in Japan for, knock wood, at least 1 more school year, which is very good news for our family.
Now we'll have more time to enjoy the schools, the great restaurants, our car-free existence, the Tokyo American Club swimming pool, Saturday date night, the city's clean streets, the obsessive trash sorting, no children's television commercials, and the amazing French pastry shops.
Because of severe job cuts, lots of expats here, including many families with a Japanese parent and/or deep roots in Japan, are suddenly packing their suitcases. We're feeling very fortunate.
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Not taking the buyout
We recently decided to sign onto the Washington Post's future, for better or worse, when we decided not to take the WaPo's buyout offer for its longtime employees.
This was our struggle, just one year after we decided to move to Japan: Should Blaine quit the Post, accept a generous and steady buyout-related income, and start freelancing from Seattle - while I'd get a new full-time job? It was a tempting offer, especially given newspapers' tough times and falling profits.
Or should we stay in Japan for the duration of Blaine's planned posting, enjoy his fine work as a foreign correspondent, see how my editing and writing develops, and hang onto the kids' fantastic schools and the family's overseas experience - not knowing what the future holds for our next posting? We decided to stick around.
For me, the bottom line was seeing this is a onetime chance for our family to live something other than a typical American life: house, minivan, schools, soccer practice, big grocery stores and non-exotic vacations. The schools here are a big seller: We love them, and they may be the best schools that Lucinda (and maybe even Arno) ever attend, though I hope not.
When the buyout option popped up, I applied for Lucinda to attend 1st grade in our very good Seattle neighborhood public school, Stevens Elementary. She would have gone there this year for kindergarten in Seattle, but now, for 1st grade, there wasn't a space for her. Instead, she was #4 on the Stevens waiting list, with no guarantee of admission before September, and she was randomly assigned to a low-testing school a few miles away. This did not exactly make me want to rush back to Seattle.
But the truth is, the kids have done wonderfully here, and we're excited about their next school year. Arno's teachers told us last week that he's actually -speaking- Japanese to them, which was completely new info to us (he doesn't bother speaking it to us). And Lucinda performed in a short Japanese play today for her school assembly. No matter how long we stay - 3 or 4 years total, probably - they'll go home with some terrific language skills and a better understanding of the rest of the world.
Even as we made our decision, I know many families who are leaving Tokyo this year - more than in past years, friends say. Some bankers have been laid off, some US companies are pulling their people back, and some have run out of time. Many people are having "sayonara parties" right now. I'm glad we're not among them.
This was our struggle, just one year after we decided to move to Japan: Should Blaine quit the Post, accept a generous and steady buyout-related income, and start freelancing from Seattle - while I'd get a new full-time job? It was a tempting offer, especially given newspapers' tough times and falling profits.
Or should we stay in Japan for the duration of Blaine's planned posting, enjoy his fine work as a foreign correspondent, see how my editing and writing develops, and hang onto the kids' fantastic schools and the family's overseas experience - not knowing what the future holds for our next posting? We decided to stick around.
For me, the bottom line was seeing this is a onetime chance for our family to live something other than a typical American life: house, minivan, schools, soccer practice, big grocery stores and non-exotic vacations. The schools here are a big seller: We love them, and they may be the best schools that Lucinda (and maybe even Arno) ever attend, though I hope not.
When the buyout option popped up, I applied for Lucinda to attend 1st grade in our very good Seattle neighborhood public school, Stevens Elementary. She would have gone there this year for kindergarten in Seattle, but now, for 1st grade, there wasn't a space for her. Instead, she was #4 on the Stevens waiting list, with no guarantee of admission before September, and she was randomly assigned to a low-testing school a few miles away. This did not exactly make me want to rush back to Seattle.
But the truth is, the kids have done wonderfully here, and we're excited about their next school year. Arno's teachers told us last week that he's actually -speaking- Japanese to them, which was completely new info to us (he doesn't bother speaking it to us). And Lucinda performed in a short Japanese play today for her school assembly. No matter how long we stay - 3 or 4 years total, probably - they'll go home with some terrific language skills and a better understanding of the rest of the world.
Even as we made our decision, I know many families who are leaving Tokyo this year - more than in past years, friends say. Some bankers have been laid off, some US companies are pulling their people back, and some have run out of time. Many people are having "sayonara parties" right now. I'm glad we're not among them.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sports Day
When I was a kid, we had "field day" every spring on the dusty playfield behind my public elementary school in Littleton, Colorado. We ran races and did the tug-of-war and softball throw, etc., with a strong emphasis on individual performance, with ribbons awarded even in the youngest grades. Does that still happen in American public schools?
In Japan, schools have "Sports Day," and what we've seen so far is a very different, team-oriented approach to sports - for young children anyway.
Arno's preschool had its sports day on a baseball field near Willowbrook 10 days ago.
Arno and his mates in Umi class, all dressed in red, did the "origami relay" (grabbing origami off a clothesline), the sack race, and the egg/spoon relay (Arno clamped his hand over the plastic egg on the spoon as he ran). Also, the three-legged run, done with his Aussie friend Ceinwyn...
...the throw-crumpled-paper-in-baskets game...
...and the parachute game.
Lucinda's school held its sports day at a (very empty) former Olympic stadium about a half-hour drive from Nishimachi.
The children in grades K-9 were tasked to the blue or white team (the school colors), and each team's points were tallied throughout the day. Lucinda was on the blue team.
The first event was the tug-of-war, grade by grade, which meant 30 kindergarteners lined up on each side of this big rope.
Lucinda and her friends pulled and pulled (and even got small rope burns)...
... and L was thrilled when her blue team won. (She tends to avoid games involving winning and losing - but the truth is, she does like to win.) Celebration ensued.
Next, the kindergarteners ran the 50-meter sprint in groups of about 10. At the end of each heat, the fastest handful of kids received a snip of colored ribbon, and the overall results were tallied for the blue or white team. Lucinda was baffled and a bit upset that she didn't get to hold a ribbon. (I'm sure she was thinking: It's not fair! Why doesn't everyone get the same thing!) But she was mollified when no one kept the ribbons, which were passed on to the next grade of competitors.
Then the kindergarteners had a series of relay races in 4 teams (2 blue, 2 white) of 15 children. Each child did the skill - running forward, jogging backwards, sack jumping, walking with ping-pong ball in spoon, etc. - and returned to sit down in incredibly tidy lines.
I could see that different children excelled at different skills, and I liked the team, rather than the individual, focus. Lucinda told me today that the Blue team - her team - won the day.
In Japan, schools have "Sports Day," and what we've seen so far is a very different, team-oriented approach to sports - for young children anyway.
Arno's preschool had its sports day on a baseball field near Willowbrook 10 days ago.
Arno and his mates in Umi class, all dressed in red, did the "origami relay" (grabbing origami off a clothesline), the sack race, and the egg/spoon relay (Arno clamped his hand over the plastic egg on the spoon as he ran). Also, the three-legged run, done with his Aussie friend Ceinwyn...
...the throw-crumpled-paper-in-baskets game...
...and the parachute game.
Lucinda's school held its sports day at a (very empty) former Olympic stadium about a half-hour drive from Nishimachi.
The children in grades K-9 were tasked to the blue or white team (the school colors), and each team's points were tallied throughout the day. Lucinda was on the blue team.
The first event was the tug-of-war, grade by grade, which meant 30 kindergarteners lined up on each side of this big rope.
Lucinda and her friends pulled and pulled (and even got small rope burns)...
... and L was thrilled when her blue team won. (She tends to avoid games involving winning and losing - but the truth is, she does like to win.) Celebration ensued.
Next, the kindergarteners ran the 50-meter sprint in groups of about 10. At the end of each heat, the fastest handful of kids received a snip of colored ribbon, and the overall results were tallied for the blue or white team. Lucinda was baffled and a bit upset that she didn't get to hold a ribbon. (I'm sure she was thinking: It's not fair! Why doesn't everyone get the same thing!) But she was mollified when no one kept the ribbons, which were passed on to the next grade of competitors.
Then the kindergarteners had a series of relay races in 4 teams (2 blue, 2 white) of 15 children. Each child did the skill - running forward, jogging backwards, sack jumping, walking with ping-pong ball in spoon, etc. - and returned to sit down in incredibly tidy lines.
I could see that different children excelled at different skills, and I liked the team, rather than the individual, focus. Lucinda told me today that the Blue team - her team - won the day.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Everyday Japan - school uniforms
You can't walk down the street here without noticing what children wear to school - and how different it is from what most American schools require.
1. Most young Japanese schoolchildren wear brightly colored brimmed hats to school every day, along with navy shorts year round for boys. The caps likely make the children more visible to drivers - useful because children travel to school by themselves by age 6 - and they also identify their class within a school.
Last week at Shinjuku Gyoen, a park, for Lucinda's field trip, I found a good way to illustrate this very visible fashion statement.
2. Young children sometimes wear smocks in parks to keep their clothes spotless. And even preschoolers carry backpacks and sometimes 1 or 2 other little bags with them.
3. Private school uniforms, for all ages, are ubiquitous!
Sailor uniforms are fashionable here for girls, plus knee socks and penny loafers. Elementary-age schoolgirls (whom I haven't managed to photograph) often wear navy-blue brimmed hats with ribbons; their mothers, who take them to and from school, are equally well-dressed. Boys typically wear military-style jackets or blazers with gray slacks and loafers or sneakers. They almost always carry identical school bags, too.
Traveling in groups as they often do - on the street, in the subway - they look like flocks of birds. I saw these students near the Tokyo Sea Life Park, an aquarium where Arno's school had a field trip.
1. Most young Japanese schoolchildren wear brightly colored brimmed hats to school every day, along with navy shorts year round for boys. The caps likely make the children more visible to drivers - useful because children travel to school by themselves by age 6 - and they also identify their class within a school.
Last week at Shinjuku Gyoen, a park, for Lucinda's field trip, I found a good way to illustrate this very visible fashion statement.
2. Young children sometimes wear smocks in parks to keep their clothes spotless. And even preschoolers carry backpacks and sometimes 1 or 2 other little bags with them.
3. Private school uniforms, for all ages, are ubiquitous!
Sailor uniforms are fashionable here for girls, plus knee socks and penny loafers. Elementary-age schoolgirls (whom I haven't managed to photograph) often wear navy-blue brimmed hats with ribbons; their mothers, who take them to and from school, are equally well-dressed. Boys typically wear military-style jackets or blazers with gray slacks and loafers or sneakers. They almost always carry identical school bags, too.
Traveling in groups as they often do - on the street, in the subway - they look like flocks of birds. I saw these students near the Tokyo Sea Life Park, an aquarium where Arno's school had a field trip.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Obento
An "obento" is a Japanese boxed meal, and the school lunch version is something of an obsession here.
Japanese children do not "brown bag" it. They (and now my kids, too) have small plastic lunchboxes decorated with cartoon characters or other cute stuff. Of course American kids have big metal lunchboxes with cartoon characters... but the actual lunch is what's different.
I scramble every morning to throw together a peanut-butter sandwich and chips, or pasta and some sliced hotdog.
This was the gorgeous obento that one Willowbrook mom prepared when Arno and his classmates went potato digging. Note the matching fork/spoon set.
Salmon with a sliced rice ball, an omelette with condiments, a yogurt drink (the small bottle at top left) and, for the mom, the tomatoes and steak patty - while Arno was lunching on corn chips! I complimented the mom on her artistry, and she told me it wasn't up to her usual standards.
This reminded me of lunch-beautification products that I photographed in a department store.
Lunch boxes.
Tiny paper cups designed to keep one dish from touching another.
At left and center, tiny bottles for soy sauce, vinegars or salad dressing. On the right, cute skewers.
Left, sandwich cutouts. Center, a thingy that punches designs out of seaweed to decorate rice balls.
Individually wrapped "Freshful Straw - Heartful Goods" for lunchbox drinks.
Japanese children do not "brown bag" it. They (and now my kids, too) have small plastic lunchboxes decorated with cartoon characters or other cute stuff. Of course American kids have big metal lunchboxes with cartoon characters... but the actual lunch is what's different.
I scramble every morning to throw together a peanut-butter sandwich and chips, or pasta and some sliced hotdog.
This was the gorgeous obento that one Willowbrook mom prepared when Arno and his classmates went potato digging. Note the matching fork/spoon set.
Salmon with a sliced rice ball, an omelette with condiments, a yogurt drink (the small bottle at top left) and, for the mom, the tomatoes and steak patty - while Arno was lunching on corn chips! I complimented the mom on her artistry, and she told me it wasn't up to her usual standards.
This reminded me of lunch-beautification products that I photographed in a department store.
Lunch boxes.
Tiny paper cups designed to keep one dish from touching another.
At left and center, tiny bottles for soy sauce, vinegars or salad dressing. On the right, cute skewers.
Left, sandwich cutouts. Center, a thingy that punches designs out of seaweed to decorate rice balls.
Individually wrapped "Freshful Straw - Heartful Goods" for lunchbox drinks.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Learning Japanese
Lucinda is soaking up the lessons from her daily, 40-minute Japanese class, and today she announced that she'd learned to write her name in Katakana, one of the three Japanese alphabets. She showed me on a recent drawing.
It's not 100 percent right, but it's darn close to "Ru-shi-n-da" if you look at this katakana map.
It's not 100 percent right, but it's darn close to "Ru-shi-n-da" if you look at this katakana map.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Practicing for Earthquakes
After a few weeks of practice, Lucinda's kindergarten held an earthquake drill today.
The "earthquake" occurred at 1:50 p.m. Parents were asked to leave home at 1:50 p.m. and walk to school (most families live nearby) to pick up their child in person.
Lucinda told me what happened after the teacher announced, Earthquake! The kids duck under the nearest table. When the shaking stops, her teacher hands out silver, pointed, padded hoods that the children wear to protect them from falling debris and (I assume, because of the silver fabric) to keep them warm.
When I arrived at the kindergarten at about 2:20 p.m., school administrators in white helmets were waiting outside.
Lucinda and her classmates, in their hoods, were sitting quietly at a table reading books. Lucinda told me not to laugh about the hood, and she looks a little sheepish here. (I warned her that I was bringing my camera.)
I had to present an emergency card to her teacher before she could leave with me.
Then her teacher praised her for sitting quietly and following directions, and Lucinda walked to the ground-floor window and climbed out. (Here's a photo of her classmate doing the same.)
I have bought boxed emergency supplies - three days of food, water and a blanket - but some people have cookstoves, fuel, boxes of canned goods and thousands of dollars in cash in their homes, just in case.
The "earthquake" occurred at 1:50 p.m. Parents were asked to leave home at 1:50 p.m. and walk to school (most families live nearby) to pick up their child in person.
Lucinda told me what happened after the teacher announced, Earthquake! The kids duck under the nearest table. When the shaking stops, her teacher hands out silver, pointed, padded hoods that the children wear to protect them from falling debris and (I assume, because of the silver fabric) to keep them warm.
When I arrived at the kindergarten at about 2:20 p.m., school administrators in white helmets were waiting outside.
Lucinda and her classmates, in their hoods, were sitting quietly at a table reading books. Lucinda told me not to laugh about the hood, and she looks a little sheepish here. (I warned her that I was bringing my camera.)
I had to present an emergency card to her teacher before she could leave with me.
Then her teacher praised her for sitting quietly and following directions, and Lucinda walked to the ground-floor window and climbed out. (Here's a photo of her classmate doing the same.)
I have bought boxed emergency supplies - three days of food, water and a blanket - but some people have cookstoves, fuel, boxes of canned goods and thousands of dollars in cash in their homes, just in case.
Friday, September 7, 2007
School update
A note about the kids' schools:
Lucinda's first 10 days at Nishimachi International School have gone very well, and I'm encouraged that she'll feel fully integrated into her new surroundings, with her new classmates, in the next month or so.
Lucinda, at 5, can be stubborn about small things when she feels anxious about changes in her life, which generates a certain amount of drama. This is true even though she usually enjoys whatever she tries, whether it's a playdate with a new friend, or eating sushi or seaweed.
We weren't sure how she would handle the start of kindergarten in Tokyo because she loved Parkside, her Seattle pre-K, and misses her Seattle friends and the rhythm and familiarity of the games she played with them.
To our delight and relief, though, Lucinda has been totally mellow about school here, ready to get dressed and out the door in the morning, and joyfully talks about the reading/math/art/music/Japanese skills she's tried that day. (On Friday she made clay in her first pottery class.) Her teacher, Penelope Amies, seems warm and plugged into the kids, and we are gratified that the good-for-Lucinda vibe we got from our visit to Nishimachi in June matches the reality in September.
Arno, who will be 3 in November, has started a bilingual (English-Japanese) program at the Willowbrook International School. He is in the "Umi" (Ocean) class, where the teachers speak English in the morning and Japanese in the afternoon. To symbolize the language change, the teachers Makiko and Sharee hang Japanese tapestries outside the door and in the classroom.
Arno is an easygoing kid, and he's been cheerful when I drop him off for his first days of school. He clings a bit, then trades his Crocs for his yellow, Velcro-ed New Balance "indoor shoes" - how Japanese! - and scans the small classroom for something to engage him. One day it was the astronaut costume, and another day, when the teachers put homemade red playdoh on the art table, Arno grabbed a big hunk of it and said, "Bye, Mom." No drama there.
Lucinda's first 10 days at Nishimachi International School have gone very well, and I'm encouraged that she'll feel fully integrated into her new surroundings, with her new classmates, in the next month or so.
Lucinda, at 5, can be stubborn about small things when she feels anxious about changes in her life, which generates a certain amount of drama. This is true even though she usually enjoys whatever she tries, whether it's a playdate with a new friend, or eating sushi or seaweed.
We weren't sure how she would handle the start of kindergarten in Tokyo because she loved Parkside, her Seattle pre-K, and misses her Seattle friends and the rhythm and familiarity of the games she played with them.
To our delight and relief, though, Lucinda has been totally mellow about school here, ready to get dressed and out the door in the morning, and joyfully talks about the reading/math/art/music/Japanese skills she's tried that day. (On Friday she made clay in her first pottery class.) Her teacher, Penelope Amies, seems warm and plugged into the kids, and we are gratified that the good-for-Lucinda vibe we got from our visit to Nishimachi in June matches the reality in September.
Arno, who will be 3 in November, has started a bilingual (English-Japanese) program at the Willowbrook International School. He is in the "Umi" (Ocean) class, where the teachers speak English in the morning and Japanese in the afternoon. To symbolize the language change, the teachers Makiko and Sharee hang Japanese tapestries outside the door and in the classroom.
Arno is an easygoing kid, and he's been cheerful when I drop him off for his first days of school. He clings a bit, then trades his Crocs for his yellow, Velcro-ed New Balance "indoor shoes" - how Japanese! - and scans the small classroom for something to engage him. One day it was the astronaut costume, and another day, when the teachers put homemade red playdoh on the art table, Arno grabbed a big hunk of it and said, "Bye, Mom." No drama there.
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