Showing posts with label cute. Show all posts

haqqr year or ther abbit


Last weekend, Yuka came over and we started a new years card assembly line of rubber stamps, glitter and craft tape. New Years postcards are huge here, and I like that they're for the new year, rather than for any particular religious holiday; while I probably won't make 75 personalized cards, as I did last year for my Westgate students - I did want to make some for friends and family back home. 


Fortunately, Yuka is very craft-y, and so brought along an amazing array of stamps and ink, amongst which was a very cool alphabet thing that allowed you to make your own personalized stamp by placing teeny tiny little magnetized letters on a bigger stamp. As I'm not sure how well-aquainted everyone back home is with the eastern astrological signs, I wanted to make something to clarify why all my cards are peppered with bunnies. (Though, anyone who knew me back when Sophy the bunny was terrorizing my family probably wouldn't have been too surprised to get a bunny card from me anyway.) As you can see, mastering the alphabet stamps took some work: 


Anyway, I plan to send cards out in the next few days or so! If you want one, just drop me a line :-) 

Kanogawa Epic Cycle Run!


Every weekday morning begins for me with a drive alongside the Kanogawa River and the Numazu mountains to a factory, where I teach everyday and where Iain teaches three days a week. Since both of us love the drive, we decided to take our bikes out today on more or less the same route so we could enjoy it a little more. (As a side note, I did not know the term "cycle run" until I went to Scotland and Iain's sister suggested taking one; at the time, I thought she meant something along the lines of, riding your bike for a bit and then going for a jog, possibly while holding the bike, because I am a genius.) 



All week, my students have been issuing ominous warning about the rainy season beginning on Monday, so now seemed like a good time to go for it, particularly as the clouds overhead in most of these pictures seem to be proving my students right.



There are really nice bike paths along most of the river, so, aside from one detour that involved Iain having to heroically push our bikes up a steep, unpathed hill, it was a really nice, flat ride. We drove through farms of all sizes:




... and lots of rice paddies that are just starting to turn green:




Above: on a work morning, that white van is us! 

It was really nice to take our time and to just be able to take in a bit more of the scenery we rattle past at 50 km/hour every morning. You can spend a lot more time admiring the Numazu Alps...


...or noticing quirky details that you'd never otherwise see, like this weary (bored? sleepy?) looking statue:



...or just plain weird things, like this sizeable bridge to ... nowhere:



Most disturbingly, though, were these creepy plastic doll heads that wandered straight out of a horror movie to guard some dude's vegetable patch:


Above: Come play with us FOREVER, Iain and Mikka.

Seriously, if we promise to stay away from your eggplants, will you take your creepy serial killer trophy heads down?


Fortunately, not 10 meters away was the world's best antidote to the horrors of the Children of the Eggplant:


DUCKLINGS! So, so many ducklings in mud. Awesome.

Three hours and some seriously sore legs later, we are home, where, like clockwork, the rain began about an hour ago. 



ode to my kids

Left to right: Thao, who was the most prone to excessive compliments ("I love these new crayons! You are very nice today! This game is awesome!"); Yen Nhi, who was a bit shy at first but who would wait outside the staff room for me to walk to class; and Lan, who had somewhere picked up the phrase "oh noooo" and used it to call attention to pretty much anything that happened ever (a broken crayon: "Oh noooo, Mikka!"; a randomly open window: "oh nooooo!")

Back in June, I got assigned a kids class - Starters Two, which means very, very, very beginner - which was terrifying, given that a month of intensive CELTA training left me overwhelmed at teaching adults with a functional grasp of English already. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I walked into the room on the first day with a box of crayons and a lesson plan that pretty much consisted of:
1) Say "Hello!!! How are you?"

2) Get them to say "Hello!!! How are you?" back.

3) Sing the "Hello!!! How are you?" song at least three times.

4) Pass out crayons.




Left to right: Lan Anh, who was the best artist in the class; Giang and Huy, who blazed through every worksheet I gave them to the point where I had to print out special word-searches for them to do while everyone else finished.
I was in no way prepared for how insanely good natured my students would be about the fact that I clearly had no idea what I was doing (or the fact that they already knew the phrase "Hello, how are you?" - I didn't find out till much later that the first three weeks of our class was meant to be review), but amazingly they were all cool with the fact that we spent the first few weeks doing way too much coloring and BINGO (they rocked BINGO), and after a few weeks, a handful of them took to waiting in the hallway for me to come out of the teachers room, and would bob around me as we walked up the hallway (Them: Hellomikkahowareyou?? Me: I'm fine, thank you, and you? Them: I'mfinethanksandyou?? all the way up the hall) and then whenever I walked into the room they'd all chorus HELLO MIKKA! at the top of their lungs like I was actually a decent teacher who did more than just make them play Simon Says too much. It wasn't till late July that I was finally starting to feel a bit more adventerous, teaching-wise - one day we sang Hello, Goodbye by the Beatles, and seriously if you haven't seen a roomfull of ridiculously tiny Vietnamese children earnestly singing the Beatles, you're missing out.

.
Bach! I don't even know what to write about Bach. He was the tiniest boy in the class with the weakest English, and I never knew how much he actually understood or could even write - I doubt very much - but he was always in a good mood about his relative lack of comprehension, and he did a mean chicken walk. His shining moment came when we played Simon Says for the first time - people seemed to be only shakily grasping the concept, so I didn't have much hope when I called for a volunteer to be Simon, and immediately felt my heart sink when only Bach raised his hand, but he ran up to the front of the room bursting with excitement and totally OWNED being Simon. If they ever make a movie of Bach's life, the scene where he rocks Simon Says will be accompanied by Eye of the Tiger. It was a thing to behold (Simon Says, point to the Mikka!), and I let him be Simon for much longer than all the other kids everytime after that, and he would always chicken-walk triumphantly back to his desk.
So I was completely smitten with my kids class by mid-August, which is why I was devastated to walk in one afternoon and find out that I'd been moved to Sundays, which meant my kids were going to be given a new teacher, and even more gutted when I found out the shift was happening that weekend and that I would never get to teach them again. I fell all over myself describing them to their new teacher ("They love coloring and BINGO and Simon Says and this game where you paste pictures to their backs and make them guess, oh, and wordsearches, don't forget those, Giang and Huy will finish everything really fast and Linh and Nghia need extra time, and Thuong will ask you to look at everything she does, and if you give Thao the new crayon box she will love you forever and, we started making zoo collages last week, don't forget their zoo collages, and and and" ) and I still miss them, like a lot, so much that I'm writing ridiculously long posts about them instead of my recent trip to Hoi An or pretty much anything else about living in Hanoi, but there you go. I miss you guys.

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