The classroom is silent except for the sound of little hands writing. As I gaze out the window from my third floor classroom atop a hill I see a vast expanse of rice paddies-only recently planted so they appear to be flooded fields tinged with green. From my vantage point cars look like toys, teetering between rice paddies on dangerously narrow roads. As two cars pass each other in opposite directions they slow to a near stop-there seems to be just shy of enough room for both to pass.
It has been raining for the past three days. The air is heavy with humidity. Everything feels damp and nothing seems to dry. But today we are granted a reprieve in this season of rain
In the distance I see a shadow of the shaggy green mountains that flank one side of my town. Today they are enshrouded in a humid fog. I listen to the sounds outside my silent classroom. A myriad of birds are vocalizing their content now that the rain has finally stopped. I hear a train and look to see it quickly cutting through the green tinged fields, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. I hear frogs croaking. They must like the recently flooded rice fields because only in the last few weeks have I begun to hear a symphony of croaking frogs.
The smells of Shikoku's summer have returned and take me back to my first few weeks in Japan. It is a very strange, surreal sensation. This time warp, de ja vue feeling lasts only for a moment before disappearing. My brain shifts back to the present as one of my more enthusiastic twelve year old students yells "I'M FINISHED!" as he slams his pencil down on the desk and does a little victory pose. We have a mutually understood silent giggle as the rest of the students continue to work.
In my first season of rain life is good.
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