Yes, I do take requests

The Lut Desert, Iran--the hottest place on Earth.  Photo credit: free stock illustration.

My aunt reminded me I never "finished" my blog.  It made me realize since this blog is titled "From the Rooftop of Japan", it does indeed need to be finished as I now reside in the Lut Desert of Colorado--Pueblo.  And that is not sitting as comfortably with me as I'd like.

Not the living in the hottest place on earth part.  I've pretty much reconciled myself with that.  I was reading an article posted on facebook the other day about things Coloradans never say.  One thing was "I just bought my dream house in Pueblo!" Though my neighbors have been very welcoming, and I do believe they have my back--two weeks ago I watched an addled woman be taken away in an ambulance from the bench directly in front of my house *and* filed a police report for property damage when some idiot trying to skip out on cab fare busted down my side fence. Yesterday I had to listen to the Dollar General clerk's rant about how much she hates crack addicts (the customers immediately in front of me.) Culture shock. (Editor's Note: Seriously though, Pueblo is a great community and I'm grateful to be here--but it's a far cry from Ikusaka.)

Me dealing with the haters.

No, it's the admitting that I am no longer in Japan and have to deal with normal life again that I'm having trouble with.  Yep, I ended that sentence with a preposition. Since I'm back to being an aggressive American, I can freely tell you to suck it if you don't like it.

I have a confession to make to all my friends and acquaintances who returned from Japan before me.  I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt every time I saw some kind of 懐かしい post on your facebook wall, because I couldn't imagine why you'd want to be back in Japan.  I thought you were having a difficult time moving on with your lives. And though I don't want to be back in Japan and I can say I'm genuinely looking forward to my own classroom and the possibility to make a real difference instead of being a human tape recorder... there are a lot more things I miss about Japan than I'd care to admit.

I miss these crazy kids. :) 

Aside from the obvious lack of politeness and customer service (which I expected), my beloved mountains are very different here.   I climbed my first 14er (mountain above 14,000 feet/4287 meters) and it was like I'd never climbed a mountain before in my life.  Altitude had never affected me before, but Japanese mountains are very short compared to others in the world, with only a few over 3000 meters (9842 feet).

Summit of Humboldt Peak

The trailhead of Humboldt Peak *starts* around 9900 feet.  As I gained altitude above 13,000 feet I felt like someone was squeezing my heart while I tried to breathe.  I was literally moving below a snail's pace and I felt like I couldn't go another step.  The trail was one of the easiest I've ever walked, with not a single chain, ladder, or rope necessary and only very minimal rock scrambling.  I felt weak and discouraged, and even more so when I finally gained the summit and there was absolutely nothing there to even verify we were at the right mountain.  My climbing partner wisely went elsewhere to take pictures, while I had to field accusatory questions from one of the other hikers about who exactly was paying for my work.

That one hiker unfortunately set the tone for the rest of the day, so when we met two other very friendly hikers on the descent, I was reticent to engage with them for fear of being attacked.  But I did eventually talk to one woman who had been hiking for 12 days, and had been running ultras since the 80's.  She seemed like someone I would have really enjoyed hiking with, and if we hadn't been so paranoid our car had been towed off the annoying private road, I might have lingered longer to pick her brain.

Colorado roads--dirt bike courses to most normal people.

But roads in Colorado are crazy, I've learned.  I've plotted my next climbs based on which mountains have roads I think I can get my Subaru Forester up.  I thought having an all-wheel drive vehicle would be enough, but now I think a Jeep I have to pole-vault into would be more appropriate.

I did feel better when I accomplished my first solo 14er, the highest mountain in Colorado, 14,440 foot (4401 meter) Mt. Elbert.  I didn't take rests like I'd planned, but I kept a slow and steady pace, while still passing every single other hiker on the trail.  I arrived at the summit tired, as I had to traverse over two false summits--and though I knew they were there, I kept hoping that maybe the bible of all 14er climbing, 14er.com, was wrong. ;)

Mt. Elbert summit selfie with a hand written sign.

The summit was crowded, but it lacked the camaraderie I've come to expect from my summits in Japan.  I know that I am no longer the strange foreigner that stands out and therefore invites conversation, but I couldn't even get anyone to make eye contact with me to ask them to take my picture.  I miss the mountain huts where you can relax, have a beer, a snack, and trade route tips and trail stories with other hikers. The people I met on the mountains were always my favorite part of any hike.

Two of the many lovely people I met at the Kitadake Katanokoya hut.

So where does that leave me with the mountains--and this blog?  I'm not sure.  I'll continue summiting 14ers, and doing so by ease of trail access--which means I will probably always be climbing popular routes.  I'm hoping this fall or next summer to do my first overnight backpacking trip--I might make it an easy one like Pike's Peak, which is one of the few mountains that actually has a mountain hut.  I'm worried as my summer break draws to a close and I'm forced to become a weekend warrior with most of the rest of the population that I will have to deal with crowds and craziness.  I'm hopeful, but realistic, as I try to find the positive in my new home and remember that similar or not, any mountains are better than no mountains.

My favorite hike ever--Kashimayari via the Akaiwa course in prime fall colors.

Shirouma Sanzan

Not long ago, my friend J told me a friend of a friend wanted to go to the mountains with me.  K-san was apparently a very fast hiker as well, and gave J his mail address.  Because I knew I was leaving at the end of May, I put off mailing him because I wasn't sure I would have time.

However, he hadn't forgotten about me, and asked again if I wanted to climb.  I sent him a mail explaining my situation, and asked if he might be interested in a climb to Shirouma over Golden Week.  He replied immediately and said he was definitely interested, so we set about arranging the logistics.

Shirouma is a 2932 meter (9619 feet) mountain famous for a year round snow field called the Daisekkei.  It is also infamous for avalanches, landslides and rock falls--especially in May and August.  I had planned to climb it last year, but an unusually rainy summer kept me out of the mountains until September.

In February, I saw a post for an April guided rope work course up the back side of Shirouma.  I immediately signed up, but due to confusion over our residence tax, I was forced to cancel.  After taking avalanche training this winter, I'm petrified of climbing in avalanche territory alone, and I was forced to decide Shirouma and I were not to be.

However K-san offered me an opportunity to not only climb with a partner, but an experienced one at that.  He has climbed Shirouma at least 5 times before, and has a reputation as a capable back country skiier and hiker.  He made sure to check I had the proper avalanche gear, and wrote a detailed police report which we submitted at the trail head.

Avalanche

K-san picked me up in Ikusaka around 5 a.m., and we headed over the mountain towards Hakuba.  In the car, I mentioned I'd originally wanted to do Shirouma in two days, and hit Hakubayarigatake as well. He said he'd done that route in 10 hours in the summer, and asked if I was up for trying it in one day today.  I said I'd see how I felt when we got to Shirouma and play it by ear.

However, as soon as we started hiking we got to a split in the trail.  We followed the numerous skiiers towards the left, and after about 30 minutes K-san got out his GPS and map.  He said the winter and summer courses were different, and the course he thought we were taking was over there (pointing slightly to the right and front of us).

Last snowfield!

Soon we reached our first major snowfield with several old avalanches and not much of a trace.  I asked if this was the Daisekkei.  K-san said no, the Daisekkei was way over there (pointing in the same direction as before).  I started to become a bit concerned about exactly where we were going, as according to the course I thought we were taking, we should have reached the Daisekkei already.

Every time we reached the top of a snow field, we turned to find yet another one mocking us.  We heard and saw at least 3 large rock slides, and every time an airplane flew over I was convinced we were going to die in an avalanche.  Everyone except us was on skis and skins, and the snow was soft and we postholed often.

After about 4 hours of hiking, K-san asked me to take the lead.  There was no trail or markers, so I just climbed straight up, trying to avoid the most obvious avalanche runs.  When we neared the 5 hour mark, K-san pointed towards some rocks and said "Yari onsen". I finally understood our route--

The trail to Shirouma

we were hiking backwards.  Instead of hiking from the base at Sarukura to Shirouma, we were hiking from Sarukura to Hakubayari to Shakushi and lastly to Shirouma.

Slightly panicked, I asked K-san if any of the huts on this side of the route were open yet.  There is usually a hut at Yari onsen, but judging by the obvious lack of a building, I was guessing it was still shut.  K-san confirmed we wouldn't reach an open hut until the summit of Shirouma.  We had been hiking in wide open snowfields with no cover at all, and there were skiiers all around us.  However, when you gotta go, you gotta go, so I ventured off towards the right while K-san took a break and dug myself a pit.  I did my best to use my pack as a gate and pretended like I was just resting awhile in my snow pit in the middle of nowhere.

Summit of Hakubayarigatake

I had also only brought one big bottle of water because our original hike was only supposed to be about 6 hours, and I figured I could refill it at the Shirouma hut if necessary.  Now, that hut was another 4-5 hours away and I had less than 1/3 of my water left.  When we finally reached the ridge line after 6 hours, I did what you are never supposed to do, and refilled half my water bottle with unboiled snow.

Climbing in snow is extremely tiring, especially when you are post-holing constantly.  My legs ached and my pack was heavy, and I was not having a good time.  Both K-san and I were worried about making it up and down before dark (though we had headlamps), so we didn't stop to rest, take pictures or enjoy the surroundings.  Luckily, there was no snow on the ridge line, so we were able to make slightly better time.  When we reached Hakubayari, I went up the short trail to the top and K-san took a rest at the bottom.  The summit was full of skiiers, so I wasn't able to get my usual selfie, and from Hakubayari, K-san and I were the only ones on the trail all the way to Shirouma.

By the time we reached the short spur trail to Shakushi, K-san asked if it was ok if we didn't climb it.  I said sure, because Shirouma still looked so far away, with several big up and downs.  At last we reached the giant hut just under the summit, and K-san ditched his pack.  I planned to buy drinks and a bandanna at the hut, so I kept mine with me.  I was feeling overheated and sick, and had taken off

Summit of Shirouma

as many layers as I could.  I had run out of water hours ago, including the snow I'd added, and all I'd eaten since breakfast was a Cliff bar.  I didn't think I was going to make it to the top, and the only reason I continued was because K-san had the impression I was a lot tougher than I really am. There was no way I was going to diminish my reputation further by not summiting our goal mountain.

Reaching the summit was fairly anti-climactic, and though I could see all my favorite mountains, all I could think about was not tossing my cookies off the side.  I took a few half hearted pics, but the summit was crowded, and I spent the shortest amount of time ever on a summit.  We'd left Sarukura at 6:10 a.m. and we reached the summit of Shirouma at 3:20 p.m.  My 6 hour round trip hike had turned into a 9 hour trek one way.

When we returned to the hut, I said I had to rest for 10 minutes.  I went inside, used the toilet, and bought a bottle of orange juice, water, and a bandanna.  I downed the orange juice in one sitting and refilled my water bottle with the water.  Already feeling better, we packed up and headed out exactly 10 minutes after arriving.

Putting on our crampons, we headed down into the Daisekkei.  It didn't look a whole lot worse than any of the other snow fields we'd already been through that day, except that immediately upon starting, a large rock slide started to our right and lasted for about 20 seconds.  We waited to see where the rocks would end up, and then continued down.

Going down is my weakest area, especially in snow.  At times, K-san was a good ways ahead of me until we got off the steeper slopes.  After about 25 minutes, we switched to sliding down on our bums, but I didn't last long as I worried about going too fast and not being able to stop quickly enough.  I chose to boot ski down instead.  We passed at least 3 or 4 old avalanches again, but I could soon see the tents at the bottom of the Daisekkei.  I raced down the remaining slope, and breathed deeply once I was on flat ground.

Heading down into the Daisekkei

We made it back to Sarukura at 6 p.m., meaning our entire trek took about 12 hours.  I think K-san was a bit disappointed with my crappy descending ability, saying he thought that since I run trails I'd be good at going down.  We didn't take any break longer than a few minutes except for the 10 minutes at the top, and it is officially the longest hike I have ever done, time-wise.  It's also one of the rare times I climbed with a partner, and that added a certain level of stress as neither of us really knew the other's climbing style or preferences.
I don't recommend rushing through this course, especially if you are blessed with amazing weather as we were.  Though the scenery was some of the best I've seen, this hike was one of my least favorite, as when we weren't pushing through a difficult spot physically, we were pushing through to try and make good time.   If I would have been by myself, I would have stayed at the hut on Shirouma instead of returning home.

However, I knew this hike might not be as enjoyable as usual, as I was worried about crowds during Golden Week (not a problem) and worried about climbing with a partner.  I am grateful to K-san for driving, guiding and accompanying me, as I wouldn't have felt safe trying the mountain by myself.  So though if I lived in a perfect world, there are a lot of things I would have done differently, considering the conditions under which I was operating, I am grateful for a good hike and an extra bonus accomplishment of doing all the Hakuba Sanzan. I hope to get my last mountain circuit in this weekend as I attempt revenge on the mountains of Yatsugatake.

Unconditionally

In the warmer months, I've climbed mountains in the cold, wind, rain, and sleet.  I never gave up on a summit, and persevered in the face of less than ideal conditions.

Winter, I learned, is a completely different ballgame.  The stakes are much higher--even on a good day with clear weather; a fall, slip or misstep can send you to your maker.  I turned back on half the mountains I attempted to summit this winter due to my own inexperience or bad weather conditions.  

I'm slowly taking "revenge" on these half-climbed mountains, but I was thwarted yet again on the first mountain I ever tried to climb--Komagatake.  Avalanches destroyed the supports on the ropeway, leaving the mountain inaccessible for the entire winter.  It was finally repaired at the end of March, but I had to wait until mid-April to find the time to make it down.  I saw evidence of these avalanches on my way up the ropeway, including the largest one I've ever seen.  Not a mountain to be caught on in avalanche prone slopes.

The weather forecast for the weekend was mixed, alternating between sunny to partly sunny to partly cloudy.  I decided to give it a try anyway.  Though I deliberately ignored my alarm, I made it to the ropeway only an hour after my planned time.  I lucked out with the bus times as well, and caught the bus only a few minutes after buying my ticket.

As I rode the ropeway up, I saw the clouds moving in.  I was able to catch a brief glimpse of the Senjojiki Cirque before everything was enveloped in white.  As I climbed the nearly vertical path to the ridge, I couldn't see anything besides what was immediately in front of me.  When I got to Hokensansou, the wind picked up, and it started raining with bursts of sleet.  There was no one else on the trail, though I could hear voice somewhere in the white.  

Nothing but white on Komagatake.

I asked the advice of the hut manager regarding the weather for the afternoon.  She told me a high pressure system had moved in, and the weather wasn't going to change anytime soon.  She advised me to catch the ropeway down ASAP, as it was closed during high winds and bad weather.  I ended my second attempt up Komagatake in the exact same place as the first.

This past weekend I attempted my second thwarted mountain--my much-anticipated New Years hike up Tsubakuro.  Bad weather forced me to change my plans to later in January, and lack of strong crampons turned me around after hiking 12 km on the closed mountain road to the trail head.  Because the views from Tsubakuro are of some of my favorite mountains, this peak was high on my must-climb list.  It was opening weekend of the mountain road, and I knew it would be horribly crowded.  I set my alarm for 3:10 and planned to hike part of the way in the dark to get a leg up on the masses.

However, when I arrived at the road gate about 4:20 a.m., I found a line of cars.  Thinking they must be parked on the side of the road for some obscure reason, as Japanese cars always are, I drove past them up towards the gate.  The proverbial light bulb went off, as I saw the gate was locked with a

Queue on the mountain road at 4:30 a.m.

sign that said it would not be opened until 5:30.  I backed up slowly and got in line behind the 9th car, inwardly fuming at the idiocy of such an arbitrary time.  It was already getting light, and as I sat in my car, I could hear my solo hiking minutes ticking away.

As the sun rose behind the trees and my irritation level with it, a speedy white Prius drove by. Thinking it was someone else who didn't realize the gate was locked, I waited for it to come creeping back.  It didn't return, and I noticed the front cars had their brake lights activated--within seconds, the lead cars were through the gate.  I impatiently waited for a count of 10 for the cars immediately in front of me to move, then swerved past them to freedom.  My new favorite Prius had unlocked the gate a whole half hour before the posted time, and I was ecstatic.

I raced along the narrow mountain road, and secured one of the first parking spots in the lot.  I'd already prepped all my gear while I was waiting; so I checked the parking brake, grabbed my pack, and dashed to the porta potty.  To my surprise, I was the very first person to use this potty all season.  It was immaculately clean with nothing in it--the toilet paper hadn't even been unwrapped yet.  I almost took a picture as I doubt I will ever see a porta potty that clean again.

Not a speck of snow at the trailhead.

I headed confidently towards the trail, and was shocked to see not a speck of snow.  When I had attempted this mountain in January, I had to cut steps with my ice axe and walk through snow walls taller than me.  A few minutes after the first bench, I stopped to put on my crampons.  The snow was very inconsistent, and I had to be very careful not to fall through the weaker areas.  I did fall once, earning myself a sharp stab with a tree branch to the ribs.  I now know why we have ribs. :)

I was surprised at how steep the trail remained; I had expected it to level out at some point.  My calves were screaming, "Why?!" and I had to take short pauses after about 2 hours.  I felt like the ridgeline would never appear, and I would be hiking up and up forever.  Finally, after 2 and a half hours and one last big climb, I reached the ridge.  Yari peeked out to greet me.  Hello my old friend...

I could hike forever once I reach the ridgeline of any mountain, as the scenery is like a natural shot of adrenaline.  After the steps to Enzansou, the snow disappeared, and I took off my crampons and absorbed the view.  It took exactly 3 hours from Nakabusa onsen to Enzansou, against a map time of 4 hours in summer, 5-10 with snow.  Despite

First peek at Yari.

how difficult the climb felt, I'd apparently still made very good time.


I couldn't believe how lucky I'd been so far not to meet hardly anyone else on the trail.  In fact, the trail was so pristine at times I had to stop for a moment to make sure my route was correct.  Not wanting that luck to change, I hurried on towards the summit.

Summit bound!

The rocks around and leading to Tsubakuro are very fun, and I had a good time taking selfies and trying different combinations of the rocks with the surrounding mountains.  I was surprised when I reached the summit, as there was no large shrine or post typical of most mountains in Japan, and I began to worry I'd somehow
reached the wrong summit.  I saw a sign towards KitaTsubakuro, but there was no trace and it didn't look like anyone had been that way in some time.  I decided to go back to the map at the hut and double check to make sure I had the right summit, and double back if I'd made a mistake.

On my way down, I began to meet my first people.  They all kept asking me if I'd seen the dolphin.  I had no idea what they were talking about, so I just smiled and nodded.  One old man, not satisfied with my obvious lack of understanding, dug out his camera to show me his picture. I saw no dolphin, so he made a shape with his hands, in case I was still unclear what a dolphin was.  Finally, I said "Oh yeah, a dolphin, I will take a picture too" in an incredibly unconvincing voice.  Finally giving up on my idiot self, the old man continued down the trail.  I stared for several minutes at the place where the old man told me to

At the summit.

look for the dolphin, still not having a clue where it might be.

I arrived back at the hut around 9:30 a.m. and asked them if it was too early for any kind of food. I ended up with some cup ramen, a bottle of water, and another mountain bandanna to add to my collection.  I sat down next to another woman hiking solo, who after confirming I'd already been to the summit and back, asked me if I'd seen the dolphin.  Well prepared for this question by now, I said "Oh yeah, I saw the dolphin, I took a great picture."  Wtf...

The hordes were beginning to arrive at the hut now, and I spent a lot of time waiting on the sides of the trail for people coming up.  I counted over 100 people coming up on my way down, and the trail was no longer pristine. It looked like it had

My completely accidental photo of "the Dolphin"!

been trampled by a horde of somethings, with pine needles, branches, and mud tracked every which way.  Despite wanting to see the sunrise the next morning, I was very thankful I'd decided to do a day hike instead.

When I reached the bottom, I hauled my gear to my car and came back with my onsen bag in tow.  The outdoor onsen had no hot water in its showers, so I had to shovel buckets full of onsen water for a bucket bath instead.  However, I had the bath entirely to myself, so I lingered; wandering idly from one bath to the other.  There's nothing better than an onsen at the end of a successful climb and I felt at peace with the mountain and with life.

Views from the summit.

My person onsen. :)

Conditions are everything.  The mountain has nothing to do with whether or not I can climb it, but rather the conditions surrounding the mountain.  The mountain simply is, and I have to choose when best to access it.

Today I sent my husband off back to the U.S.  Japan has been a little like climbing a winter mountain in bad weather.  The conditions just weren't right for us to reach the summit.  Perhaps coming to Japan only a year after our marriage, when so many things about us were untested, was not the best idea we've ever had.  After all, it's best to have some summer mountains under your belt before attacking the big daddy winter mountains.

Just as I've been forced to realize my limitations in the winter context, I've been forced to realize my limitations here in Japan. These are not the best conditions for me to be successful, but that doesn't mean there is anything wrong with me or wrong with us.  I am optimistic our return to the States will be like revisiting previously thwarted mountains.  The mountain is still there, with its beautiful views and invigorating challenges--but perhaps now the conditions will be right for us to enjoy them. I plan to savor my last month here in Japan, while planning and looking forward to our future elsewhere.    

A Simple Gift

Coming back to work immediately after returning from the Philippines feels like repeatedly getting slapped across the face.  From the minute I walked in the door at my school this morning, I was reminded of all the things I need to attend to sooner than later.  The peace and simplicity I experienced in 4 days of rural Filipino life has all but slipped away.

My initial arrival in the Philippines was less than favorable.  My welcoming committee was health check security guards offering pieces of white paper stating I had probably been exposed to Ebola and should closely monitor my health.  As I made my way into the airport, I was surrounded by throngs of pushing, yelling, sweating people and harassed by whistle-blowing 厳しい security guards.  There are whole towns in between airport terminals (literally-it took me 20 minutes to get from one to the other).  I had to take a taxi from Terminal 3 to Terminal 1, and waited in line for a half an hour to get one.  As a woman traveling alone, I was instructed to hold onto another piece of white paper confirming my departure time and destination "for my safety".  If they didn't receive the paper at my destination, they would alert the police.

When I finally arrived at Terminal 1 to meet my roommate for the evening, E, I had to battle more 厳しい guards as you aren't even allowed to walk in front of the arrival or departure areas without a valid ticket.  After arguing with no less than 5 different guards, I finally made it to the arrivals area and met E.  We were totally screwed over by an expensive private taxi, but I had no energy to argue my way to the metered taxi area.

Our hotel room was positively spacious by Japanese standards, with cool air conditioning and a warm shower.  If you have cause to stay in Manila, the Tune Hotel Ermita is a nice choice.  The next morning we got up and took a walk by Manila Bay, stopping for a delicious Filipino breakfast with real fruit and whole wheat bread!  We returned back to the airport to meet the rest of our group, and piled into vans for the long trip to our hotel.

Manila Bay

We were all fascinated by the giant dorm-like hotel room they put us up in, with 7 people (and beds!) per room.  We tromped over to one room for orientation about the organization we were working with, Gawad Kalinga.  If you'd like to know more about this inspiring organization, you can check out their website here: http://www.gk1world.com/home  I urge you to check out the "Our Model" page to see what makes GK different from so many other NGOs, and the reason why I wanted to work with them.

After an amazing breakfast at the hotel, we set off for the village where we would be staying for 4 days and 3 nights. We took a pit stop at a local resort for a swim and authentic Filipino meal.  Filipino people LOVE to eat, and we weren't hungry a single minute of our time there.

Sun sun sun... here we come!

We arrived at the village in the early evening.  We toured the village, met the president of the community, and settled in with our host families.  All the families live in houses built by GK, and ranged from simple 1 room apartments without a flush toilet or shower to houses with lofts.  All the families gave us their own bed for the duration of our stay, and repeatedly encouraged us to make ourselves at home.

The village at dusk.

The work we did was hard.  As part of the agreement for living in the village, all families must donate a certain amount of service hours.  My host mother was doing her service hours while we were there, so I had the opportunity to work with her and her friends every day.  Because none of us were skilled laborers, and all but one of us were women, we excavated dirt to lay the foundation for a new set of houses.  It's dry season in the Philippines, with temps around 32 C every day in the hot sun with no shade and no rain.  After only about an hour of work, I had fine dust in every part of my body.

Our work.

But, we took a lot of breaks.  It's shocking how quickly I became overheated shoveling in the heat, and I drank at least 6 bottles of water daily.  We spent our break times interacting with the children of the village, whose English levels varied widely, but all operated at maximum genki.  We learned how to take cold water bucket "baths" because there were no showers or hot water, and how to use regular toilets with no flushers and no toilet paper.

Selfie!

While I can't say our short time in the village was easy, it was definitely meaningful.  The villagers are a close-knit community who pop in and out of each others' houses, take care of each others' children, and know everyone.  Their infectious good-nature and endless teasing was so refreshing after three years in Japan--I honestly can't remember when I last laughed so hard so often.  The fathers work hard to support their families, and the mothers work equally hard to take care of the house and the family.  While I know that life for these families is not easy, and we were only there long enough to just see the surface, I was inspired by the simplicity and surety of their purpose.

Our beautiful host family.

I have always struggled with too many choices.  My priorities are all over the map, and I tend to flit from one thing to the next.  I want to do everything, and I want to do it now.  My personal "road map" is poorly drawn and not to scale.  Talking with the villagers, their lives have very clear paths centered around family, faith, community and country.  They are optimistic the next generation will do better than them.  They have hope and conviction, and I am grateful to them for reminding me of what really matters.

Eight things I hate about teaching applications

Most of you know that we are returning to the U.S. this year. Most of you don't know that we are trying to relocate to Colorado.  The why's and how's and everything else's of that decision is best left to another post.  Suffice it to say that we are confident in our decision, and we are going to stick by it.:)
 
However, that means  I have spent the last month or so navigating the bureaucratic cluster F that is the teaching system.  If you have never applied for a teaching position, I am convinced that it is the most ridiculous waste of time ever invented.  If, after reading this, you have had a worse experience in a different field, please share it with me.  It will make me feel better.:)

Here is just a sample of the reasons why teaching applications are not only a waste of time, but also stupid.

1. Every state requires a different license, with completely different (and often opposite) requirements to obtain said license.

Having to be licensed in every state is not unique to teaching.  My mother is a nurse, and I know she has had to deal with the same thing. I would argue that the requirements for getting a teaching license are more ridiculous.

Colorado is a nightmare.  First of all, I had to figure out how to get fingerprinted in a country that only fingerprints criminals.  Why people have to get continually re-fingerprinted blows my mind.  My fingerprints haven't changed, and aren't they on file somewhere?

Second, I had to electronically submit official transcripts.  They would not accept paper copies, which I could have had sent from the transcript mecca of the world directly to their doorstep.  No, I had to have them sent to Japan, which took about 2 weeks and cost twice as much, and then find a scanner and upload them.

Third, the fact I physically possess not one, not two, but THREE degrees and now also physically possess the transcripts to go with them was not enough to convince the state I have any qualifications whatsoever.  Nope.  I had to download, fill out, and mail yet another document to the university where I received my teaching certification.  They had to confirm that I had indeed completed everything I said I did (because my transcripts, teaching license, and degrees are actually clever forgeries) and then send it back to me, so I could attach it to my application.

Fourth, I needed recommendation letters written in the last two years, which I didn't have, since I've been in Japan for three years.  So, I had to bother my references AGAIN and ask for new letters, give them time to write them, and then attach them to my application.

Many of the other hurdles I encountered while applying for my teaching license (which I still don't have) can be found within the regular teaching applications as well.  Read on for more cheery points.

This is true.  And my waistline will not be happy about it.

2. Every application requires some kind of personality inventory, that takes anywhere from 10-30 minutes.

Again, this isn't unique to teaching, but I've read that if you don't "score" the way the district wants you to, you are automatically disqualified just on the basis of this one test.  Whether that's actually true or not, I have no idea, but I wouldn't be surprised.  After filling out my umpteenth inventory, I literally have to direct the mouse with both hands to resist checking something inappropriate.  I mean seriously, the questions they ask... "I dislike dealing with children." "Strongly agree, Agree, Neutral, Disagree, Strongly disagree"  Strongly agree, strongly agree!!!!!!  What &^%$$* idiot would ever check that option?!

3. You have to answer numerous essay questions about ridiculously vague topics.  School districts collaborate to make sure no district ever asks the same question as another, so there is no possible way you can recycle your answers.

4. You must calculate your semester hours in every subject imaginable, as well as your GPA in every subject, every semester, and every year (I really wish I was exaggerating, but sadly, no).  When you have three transcripts to wade through, in three different majors, this becomes a giant mathematical undertaking.  Plus, I don't do math.  I have very few credits in math.

5. You went through a lot of time and effort to create the perfect resume.  It's not good enough.  You must re-enter all of your work experience into every application, over and over and over and over again.  Same thing with education.  Again, while not unique to teaching apps, it just adds to the whole misery of the process as you waste 20 minutes of your day entering information that any moron could get in about 1 minute from your RESUME.

6. Be prepared to submit every document you have on your computer.  I've submitted about twenty applications thus far, and here's a list of some of the things I needed to attach (beyond the usual resume, cover letter and recommendation letters):
-Official transcripts from every institution
-Teaching license
-Proof of application for a Colorado license
-Philosophy of teaching
-Passport
-Student evaluations (i.e. how they scored on standardized tests)
-My evaluations (i.e. how my supervisors evaluated me)
-Work sample (exactly what this entailed, no details were given)
-Praxis test scores
-Letter of introduction (specifically stated this was NOT a cover letter)
-Marriage license

7. You have to go through a pre-screening phone interview and/or virtual video interview.  Living in Japan, this means I've had interviews in the middle of the night and in the wee hours of the morning. I have between 10-15 minutes to prove that I am more worth hiring than the other 350 applicants. Which leads me into number 8...

8.  In order to get a job, you have to pass an 89 step ring of fire dance culminating in a self-flagellation ritual. Or, barring that, win the lottery.

Basically.

Most schools now require a minimum of three normal interviews, a team interview, a demonstration lesson, teaching video, and lesson plans.  As an out of state (and out of country) applicant, I have to wonder, is anybody actually looking at all this stuff I'm submitting, or are they (as I suspect) taking one look at the fact I don't live in Colorado and still don't have my Colorado teaching license, and throwing my application in the trash?

The statistical possibilities only compound the sudden attack on my confidence that this whole process has initiated.  It doesn't help that I looked for good-paying jobs in Missouri for years, with no success.  All of a sudden, I find myself back in my post-undergraduate shoes, wondering why no one likes me and no will hire me.  I work hard, I've continued my education, and I've never received anything but positive feedback about my classrooms.  So why doesn't anyone like meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee??????

This will be me after a few more rejection letters.

I've never allowed myself to be in the position I am currently in.  I can't say that I've officially declined my contract or been denied a renewal, because I have not received (and am most likely not going to) any kind of paperwork from my school.  In fact, they apparently told the prefecture I was returning to the U.S. without actually confirming it with me.  (This is not helping my little confidence problem).  Anyway, I wasn't planning on coming back, but I have no job already arranged.

This is terrifying, frustrating and disheartening all at once.  Except for the one year I was in management with Target, I have had to work multiple jobs my entire life--and it's not like I live an extravagant lifestyle.  Being in Japan is the first time I've had both the time and the money to develop interests outside of work,  Especially as I now have even more student loans to pay off, a husband, and two cats, I do not want to return to scraping by and spending every free moment picking up odd jobs.  My greatest fear is that I will return to the U.S. and NOTHING will change.  I will still be working a job that doesn't pay what I need, and I will return to living off caffeine and 4 hours of sleep because I'll be working two jobs in the evening as well.

So my point in writing this blog is not to get lots of suggestions for alternative places that I should move.:)  My point is to let you know that I'm a little (ok, a lot:) on edge right now, and I've voluntarily put myself in a place I know I don't like to be.  It's a little bit of a bumpy adjustment, so I just ask for your patience and understanding as I work through the next challenge in my life.

Oh,  and if anyone happens to know any schools that would be interested in hiring an experienced teacher like myself anywhere in the state of Colorado, don't be afraid to let me know.:)

Oh, and I wanted to vent about teaching applications.  Thank you for your patience with that too.:)