Private Dancers

It was a “one-derful” day. In the teachers’ room, my chin rested on a notepad where I was jotting down thoughts. I was scheduled to teach just one class, and that was three hours ago during first period. I wait until after the subsidized school lunch to ask to be excused for the day.

Two girls entered the room with a soft “shitsuri shimasu,” which is customarily said upon a entering a room to apologize for the disturbance created. Whatever teacher they were looking for wasn’t here – I was alone. When they didn’t leave, I looked back up – they were looking for me!

I asked them where we were going. A lanky girl said “the sports dome.” Intrigued, I followed. We headed to a room above the gymnasium where once I did taiko drumming with the “handicapped students.”

Girls were milling around in their gym clothes awaiting Haruko’s instructions. Male students affectionately call this gym teacher “short, fat woman” in English. She seems to embrace the appropriate description.

Haruko’s class was practicing Japanese folk dances to be exhibited at their upcoming school festival. Each student grasped a yellow and white sensu (Japanese fan) and shakujo (stick rattles with metal bells). The girls, some beaming behind their fan-shielded giggles at performing for a visitor, took their positions.

Haruko popped in a crackling cassette. The girls swayed to the traditional rhythms. The fisherman’s dance looked like a reenactment of an epic tug-o-war. And if you’ve seen the size of the torpedoes auctioned in Tskuji fish market, you’d understand why.

The girls watched my reaction as they twirled. They were no longer dancing for Haruko; they were dancing for me. The choreography, music and intimate setting felt like the real Japan. Sure, Japanese festivals are impressive staged events, but this uncostumed, raw demo in a middle school gymnasium felt more visceral.

Despite a few dropped fans and miscalculated tugs that sent some toppling over, the girls executed well. One dance was a school tradition performed since 1983.

“Shall we dance,” a girl asked me near the end of class, quoting the recent movie based on a Japanese film. Others called for me to join, but I sat contently watching the young experts.