Teaching is getting easier, though I’d stop short of saying I’ve got it figured out. The next two lessons went a lot smoother than the first, mostly because I stopped trying to over-plan and started actually listening to the students. Turns out a classroom runs a lot better when you’re not panicking at the front of it.

I’ve been people-watching shamelessly, and the thing that’s stuck with me most is how reserved everyone is. People are unfailingly polite, but the rules around politeness are so strict that there doesn’t seem to be much room left for self-expression. Everyone keeps to themselves, and at times it comes across as almost self-isolating, like a train carriage full of people who are together but each in their own little bubble. It’s a strange contrast with the warmth of the Gifu locals who wouldn’t stop talking to me, which makes me think the reserve might be more about the unwritten rules than about people actually being cold. I’m obviously seeing a tiny slice after two weeks, so take all of this with a pinch of salt, but it’s got me thinking about how much of community is built on being allowed to be a bit messy and loud.

One of my favourite moments this week came from a student, Kiko. She was telling me about her favourite food, and it turned out to be red bean soup, which she explained is something only people from her part of Japan really eat. She was so enthusiastic about it that I completely forgot I was supposed to be the one teaching.

It was a small, random conversation, but it’s the kind of thing I’ll remember long after the lesson plans have faded. Food is a brilliant way into someone’s world, and it was a nice reminder that people are proud of where they come from.

This one made my history brain very happy. I spent a day exploring Nagoya and visited Nagoya Castle, and it lined up with my Eurasian empires paper in a way I did not expect. What struck me most was the contrast: the castle is grand, with all the scale and showmanship you’d expect from a seat of power, but inside it was shockingly homely. The paintings on the walls made it feel less like a fortress, and more like somewhere people actually lived.

I got talking to a security guard and asked him about the tiling on the roof. He explained how much importance Tokugawa Ieyasu placed on pattern and order in his castle, and that clicked straight away with my paper. Empires don’t just rule through armies; they rule through order, and here it was built into something as small as a roof tile. Standing in a place you’ve only read about is a completely different experience from reading about it in a library, and it made the paper feel much more real. It was history coming to life, in the most literal way.

A small update on the school project: I took my observation about English and Japanese learning feeling like two separate worlds to the teachers, half expecting a polite nod (I’m an expert at those now). Instead, they agreed. It was a relief to hear that what I’d noticed as an outsider matched what they see every day, and it makes me feel much more confident that this is a worthwhile thing to work on. 

Less lost, more settled, and still collecting good stories. Week three, bring it on.