School Days

OK, sorry about that last post (the one I deleted about the BYU-WYO game). I will henceforth cease all blog activity related to BYU sporting events. I figure if you guys aren't at the game/watching the game/listening to the game/reading about the game from a more reliable source such as a newspaper, then you probably don't care about the game, much less what I have to say about it, especially considering that I know for a fact 1/3 of my "followers" don't understand the sport of football and the other 2/3 may or may not comprehend the intricacies of the sport. Luckily, I had that epiphany last week, so I still have material to write about to keep Dania placated (although it seems ironic to me that she would be unhappy with me for not having posted since Thursday when she hasn't posted anything on her blog for a week).


But, anyway, my school days in Japan. Obviously, I don't remember every detail. I was, after all, only five years old at the time, and, as great as my memory is, it isn't perfect. I do, however, have some cherished memories which I will share as best I can. It's funny how they are all flooding in now that I'm trying to think about them...


First day of school for me we went on a picnic. Mostly all I remember is getting on the wrong bus and being with the wrong class on the way back, so I was permanently changed into that class. I remember the teacher putting the different colored paper into my little flower-shaped name-tag.


Other memories: playing on the playground that first day and being one of the most popular kids. It's amazing how many friends being the white, blond kid got me. Of course, my favorite playground activity was scaring all the girls away. In some ways, I haven't changed much. I also remember planting sweet potatoes (what Americans call yams, but are not, in actuality, yams) in the garden area. This early experience may be what set me up to be so manly later on in life...


One of the best memories I have is the day I fell in the pool. It was wintertime, so the pools were all iced over. We, being the kindergarten-aged boys that we were, decided it would be a fun game to see who could knock the most ice off the surface of the pool using our feet. My competitive nature, of course, could not accept defeat. Consequently, I overreached myself and slipped into the pool. In full winter gear. Heavy coat, sweatshirt, snow pants, boots, everything. Put all that stuff on and try to go swimming in it. Good luck. By rights I shouldn't have been able to get out of that pool nearly as easily as I did, but I had no problem at all. As soon as I fell in, I was able to right myself and get to the edge. At the time, I didn't realize the importance of this, but now I see it as a miracle.


Yeah, that was my preschool. We had a little graduation ceremony at the end of the school year, and then I went on to do half of first grade. This post has gone on long enough, so we'll cover that in a forthcoming post.