And please...

"Please come back to Japan, and especially, please, in the future, be sure to marry Ryusei."

This was the message that nine of the ten boys in my junior high first year class delivered to me on my last day with them.

The tenth was Ryusei, who tried to redirect attention to Yukihiro. All in vain. All in vain.

It has been an emotionally exhausting, physically exhausting, liver exhausting six-to-eight weeks - and there are still two left to go. I'm psyching up to head back to the states after two years in the middle of nowhere. Every community group with which I have been involved, every drumming group I played with, every conversation class I taught, my church bible study group, my office, both schools, and our local chapter of Foreigners United (yes, you read that right) has had a party. Sometimes multiple parties if my imminent departure happens to coincide with someone else's imminent departure/arrival/birthday/baby shower.

I haven't gained any weight, knock on wood. But I would fail a breathalyzer three nights out of four.

Of course, I don't drink with my kids.

I do drink with other people's kids. I went camping with a friend, his boss, and his boss's family. After barbecuing, Mom and Dad took a nap in the next tent over, while Ben and I did some quality baby sitting. Go Fish and Asahi. And after that, sparklers.

In lieu of the obligatory drunkenness that accompanies almost every aspect of social interaction in Kochi Prefecture (that's not condemnation you hear, that's recommendation), students in the public school system write and deliver little automated speeches that their teachers forced them to write when they should have been focusing on the difference between "l" and "r". Seriously. It's important. No one really likes lice.

I brought these kids up by hand, spoon-feeding them English pronunciation, phonics, grammar, and the four W's and that pesky just-has-to-be-different H. I taught them words like "awesome" and "teal," plus the all-important phrases "oh, snap!" and "yummy in my tummy," complete with DJ record-swizzle hand motions. That's how ghetto I am. I call it the DJ record-swizzle. Totally gangsta.

We worked for two years, in class and out of it, at drumming practice, at festivals, at concerts and school trips. They are the class I worked the hardest with and for the longest amount of time.

So I really appreciated their individualistic and touching tributes.

"Thank you for two wonderful years, and please don't forget Ryusei."

"Thank you for teaching us, and Ryusei loves you."

"Thank you for playing taiko with us, and please marry Ryusei." You know. When he's legal.

Well, I definitely plan on coming back to Japan. But I think I will settle for someone besides Ryusei.