Random Thoughts, 10 Days In

Teaching little children has its up and downs. They're easy to amuse and impress, and it's easy to get them to learn. Yet their screaming leaves a lot to be desired, like intact eardrums. And asking "What's your name?" and "How are you?" all day long, in a voice only used when adults speak to children (or when they want to patronize other adults), practically singing each syllable, is very tiresome.

But I must say it's strange hearing adults talk to one another (and me) using the voices they use with 4 year olds. The question, "How was class this morning?" when asked as if I were a preschooler can be a little unsettling. As is finding yourself with "Ten Little Indians" or "If You're Happy And You Know It" repeating in my head, ad nauseum, hours after I've punched out for the day.

On a different note, the other night I picked up a box of Pringles and a beer. Upon popping the box, I came across something rather different...


Now, we've all heard stories about Americans wanting tattoos of something written in Chinese or Japanese simply because they like the kanji, and then being shocked to learn, often months or years later, that what has been written is something profane (and far from what was originally requested). I met a mother of a student the other day who was wearing an orange tee shirt with the Reeses logo. However, instead of "Reeses", the word "Cannabis" was there. I also met someone who was wearing a Nirvana shirt with some rather profane words on the back, and he had no idea what the shirt said, much less who Nirvana was. So I guess it's a two-way street.

It's been hot and humid here (but not St. Louis hot). But hot in a way that upon exiting the shower, sweat immediately starts pouring down the brow. And what goes better with the summertime heat than heated toilet seats? Answer: Hot tea. Yes, even in 95 degree heat with 90% humidity, I'm hard-pressed to find a restaurant goer who is not drinking scalding hot tea.

Very, very slowly adjusting to life in Kusatsu.