Palmer English teacher writes from Japan

On Friday, March 11, I had three English classes at Hamasaroma Elementary School, a school of 29 students on the shore of Lake Saroma. The day’s classes were my last of the Japanese school year, which ends in March. The goal of the lessons was to have fun, and we did. The younger grades played a treasure hunt game for which I dressed up like a pirate. The other grades played a rock/paper/scissors battle game in the gym, and a very rowdy game of “pit.” At recess, I played badminton and practiced riding a unicycle.

I have lived in Saroma, Japan, for three years, working as the town’s assistant English teacher. Saroma has been Palmer’s sister city since 1980 and has hired the English teacher directly from Palmer since 1994. I visit all of the schools from preschool to high school in this farming and fishing town of 5,900 people on the north shore of Hokkaido, the northernmost of the Japanese islands. The area often reminds me of Alaska, with its frigid winters, wide summer skies, fields of hay and independent, resourceful people. Saroma feels like home.

When my last class ended at 2:05 p.m., I returned to the teachers’ room, got a cup of coffee and began writing my lesson notes for the day. After such a wonderful day of classes, I felt like the week and the school year were coming to a perfect end. The week before I had just agreed to another year of teaching in Saroma, and the week before that I had become engaged to my Japanese girlfriend of several years.

All was right in my world as the clock struck 2:46.

At first, it was slow and smooth, then rattling, then smooth again, like an airliner in the minutes after takeoff. The earthquake as I felt it in Saroma lasted about two minutes. Some of us got under our desks, but no one seemed particularly concerned, and when it finished there had been no damage at all. Having felt dozens of earthquakes growing up in Palmer, I guessed it was a magnitude 6 or 7, perhaps located somewhere north, in Russia.

The vice principal turned on the TV, where the first images shown were of shaking TV studios in Sendai and Tokyo. It was obvious that it had been strong, but that those cities were still intact. Then the epicenter was announced off the coast of the Tohoku region in Honshu, Japan’s main island, more than 400 miles to the south. Tsunami warnings and watches were quickly issued for nearly the entire 18,000-mile coastline of Japan, including the Sea of Okhotsk near Saroma. Several teachers immediately got in their cars and drove off to make sure students who had already walked home for the day arrived safely.

The rest of the staff remained in the teachers’ room and watched the rising waters gradually swell to violent torrents, live and in crystal-clear high definition. We slowly grew hushed as we realized the gravity of what was occurring. To say it was like watching a disaster movie isn’t accurate. It was worse. I had been to those places, I had friends near those places, and I knew that these astounding images were happening as I watched, many which were cut away from quickly and never replayed in the following days because they were too disturbing. I could imagine myself in that place, in their shoes. Yet, out my window, the day seemed to continue as it had before.

Even though Saroma was spared from this disaster, the genuine concern expressed by the people of Palmer and all of my friends outside of Japan has been extremely touching. My mother couldn’t believe how many people called her or stopped by to ask about me once they heard about a quake in “northeast Japan.” Tohoku, the area hit by the tsunami, literally means “northeast” and from Tokyo, the capital, it is northeast. However, Hokkaido and Saroma are farther northeast by hundreds of miles. This caused family and friends at home to experience some unnecessary worry as well as get an impromptu lesson in Japanese geography.

Here in Saroma, we have felt like many Americans have: unaffected, far away and wondering how we can help. Saroma has already sent monetary aid to the affected area and has accepted two families displaced by the disaster. Voluntary gasoline rationing and electricity saving measures have been in effect. Over the last two weeks the Japanese have used 20 percent less electricity than over the same period last year, due to efforts to conserve. Rolling blackouts have largely been avoided. While essential items like toilet paper, water and instant noodles have been disappearing from shelves in Tokyo, such items are plentiful here. The only bare shelves I have seen are for yogurt, as many of those factories are in the Tohoku region.

Life in Saroma continues much as before, although everyone’s minds are still on the disaster. On TV, regular programming has returned, but news programs continue with report after report. Commercials have also slowly started to be played again, although public service announcements account for the majority, with major stars giving messages like, “I believe in the power of Japan.” In all the myriad coverage of those affected by this tragedy, I have not seen one single complaint, not one outburst of anger or incident of selfish behavior.

Disasters, however unwelcome, have the power to bring us together. In a time of such crisis, the differences between nations and cultures seem to dissolve as our shared humanity is reaffirmed. This sense of shared existence, solidarity and deep empathy that so many around the world now feel for the people of Japan is what Saroma and Palmer have been building steadily for more than 30 years.

Through hundreds of personal experiences, friendships and shared commitment, our two cities have built mutual understanding and trust. Times like this remind us how important and how meaningful these connections are. In normal times they might seem inconsequential. Some people might ask why they are necessary. But they are real.

I was spared from this disaster. I don’t believe in luck, yet I feel incredibly lucky to know this country and its people, a place that has been my home for the better part of my adult life. The Japanese people deserve our prayers, our respect and our support. Let’s give it to them.

Sean Holland teaches English at schools in Palmer’s sister city of Saroma, Japan.