Reminders

Even if things are going so badly, by keeping your eyes and heart open, you will be reminded of the ways things can go so well. If you stay receptive, you will receive. And eventually you can find the courage to give back.

I had to teach my students that "taco" in English and Spanish is different from taco in Japanese (here it means "octopus.") One taco I like, the other taco not so much. After class, a teacher asked me, "What food from America do you miss the most?" Without hesitation, I answered, "Mexican." (Luckily, there is delicious and affordable Indian food not too far away.) Then this morning, the teacher swung over to my desk with a big yellow box. It was a taco kit--not of the seafood variety--complete with corn tortillas, sauce, and spices. "For ME?" I asked, wide-eyed. He just smiled and walked away.

In my senior English class, students have to write and present short speeches. I always encourage them to be creative and dare to be the nail that sticks out, because I promise that they won't be hammered down in my class.** One student spoke about why he wanted to be like a bean sprout. This was daring because the Japanese word for bean sprout has the diminuitive -ko added to the end. Ko means "child," and is unfortunately common in female names. But anyway, the student said that because of the bean sprout's name and size, it is easily made fun of and overlooked. It's a shrimp of a vegetable. But, he said, when cooked in stir-fry with other vegetables, it's the only one that remains crisp. It remains strong and true to its original form, despite the heat and the blending with other ingredients. Though it may rank low in the vegetable world, the student said he wanted to be "a bean sprout person," and stay strong. His 2-minute speech lifted me.

Today, it wasn't easy for me to face a class of 42 freshman, all expecting their young teacher to dish out educational entertainment for an hour. As class began I turned my back to write on the board, and when I returned to face the class, something caught my eye and made me stop mid-sentence. Suddenly perched on my desk were 15 TINY origami frogs, each colored differently, each gazing up at me with its own quirky, endearing, penciled-on smile. They were innocent, joyful little creatures, happy for no reason at all. I couldn't hide my delight, or my surprise at my own sudden happiness. For a second everything faded away and I felt nothing but joy as a boy in the front row gingerly pushed them forward as a gift. I was so touched in that moment that I burst into Japanese, much to the delight of my students, who have only heard me speak English. "How cute!" I laughed. "Are those really for me? Thank you so much!!" I can't look at them without smiling, just because.

And then somehow I realized, the way to give back to people who give you so much, is to just be happy to be with them. As Mother Teresa said, "We cannot do great things, only small things with great love." Sometimes people can do great things, but to get you through day-to-day life, the small things make such a huge difference.