Out with the Devils, In with Good Fortune

Here in Japan, on the eve of Setsubun, I am pondering the significance of “oni wa soto; fuku wa uchi,” which is loosely translated “out with the devils, in with good fortune.” Every year on Feb. 3, people throw beans out their front doors at the “oni” or “demons” which are real or imagined. Often in families with young children, someone will dress up with a red, horned “oni” mask and come to the door to be gleefully driven off by bean-slinging rug-rats.

I have been blessed this year with a classroom of 27 four-year old bilingual tutors. They are training me to develop characteristics of a new type of oni; eyes in the back of my head, a voice louder than 27 roaring lions, and a formidable resistance to all of the viruses in Tokyo. They are full of beans and I am the “oni” one who can put up with all of them at once, for seven hours at a time. I am a gentle monster; I put up with a lot. But some days, I have to restrain myself mightily, lest I chuck those little human beans out the door of the classroom.

Today was quite the test. All 27 present and accounted for. Our chronologically homogenous society functions fairly well, considering the small space and large number of occupants, but, as in most overcrowded cities, crime is on the rise. Fights break out over who gets to play with which toy and who gets to put it back during cleanup time. During rug time, 27 kids sitting together means that 108 hands and feet can be thrashing about causing pain or discomfort to another nearby body. And the only thing that comes close to calming the general uproar of this preschool beast, is music. For the space of a few melodic measures, the rowdiness sings and stomps together.

Today, it was all about fluids. Preschool is messy. Paint, pee, tears and even blood contributed to an exhausting flow of time from start to finish. I will give you a moment in my day; more than that would overwhelm. It is the end of a long day. We have already dealt with a bloody nose, kids who wouldn’t nap and two who wouldn’t wake up, cold recesses with innumerable zippers and hats and scarves, and other liquids that needed mopping up including milk, glue and snot. Now it is clean-up, clean-up, everybody everywhere… clean-up, clean-up, everybody do your share. A battle erupts at the far end of the room where two want to “do their share” cleaning up the same thing, and will not share. I cannot reach them fast enough and one goes sprawling backwards. As I shield them from each other, I hear an urgent call behind me. “Teacher, I have to go pee.” Didn’t they all just go? Haven’t they been traipsing off to the toilets all day? It’s their favorite activity. I turn in time to see an arc of liquid making a little lake on the floor. I do have an assistant (for most of the day) and a very capable one at that. What would I do without her? She hurries off to mop up the moisture.

I look at the clock. Perfect timing. The parents are here to gather their sweet ones up and trundle them home. I do love kids. I really do, but 27 at once can be a bit much. Still, by the time they are out the door, they still have time to turn and smile and say good bye. Thank the Lord, it’s Friday. I don’t know if I can wait until Sunday to shout, “Out with the little devils and in with the luck!”

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