opinios

Ok, I take back that rubbish I wrote a while ago about not being sucked in to mass marketing.

Kim suggested that I look into those little PDA (Personal Digital Assistant) organiser thingies for my birthday this year, so I have been scouting around the different models on display at Tokyo's electronic stores.

The range is enormous, and so are some of the price tags.

My buddy Nick swears by his Sony Clie, which has a decent sized screen and a full keyboard while still not being too clunky to be portable. Of course there are dozens of different models within the Clie range, with some having faster processors or more memory for power business users, others having remote controls for when you use it as an MP3 player, and others sporting digital cameras with resolutions that rival some of the lower-end cameras on the market.

The thing that continued to swirl through my head while I played with these expensive toys in the store was, will I ever use it???

Sure, it's cool to be able to upload images back and forth from this device to your computer (there are even Bluetooth wireless options), it might be fun to show off to other people how you can watch a video in the palm of your hand (although a memory stick big enough to hold a decent sized movie will set you back the cost of the unit again!) and being able to write notes to myself on the touch-screen might mean I don't lose information that tends to go walkabout when I scribble it down on the touch screen.

But what if I drop the damn thing? Do I really need it? Will it really make my life easier or happier?

In the midst of the blaring jingles, flashing lights and screaming voice-overs advertising this and that, I realised I was actually beginning to feel depressed. Just looking at all these gadgets around me was making me dizzy with desire, as I started trying to justify to myself why I should get the most expensive model. I felt the sudden urge to do something that made me feel happy.

I needed to... run.

It's easy to forget that doing things that get neglected when you are caught up in the hustle and bustle of a big city is really important. Running as fast as you possibly can until you are full out of breath; randomly strumming a guitar; sitting down with a good book and losing yourself in another world; good food, good wine, a good movie, good company - when I'm feeling restless, these are the things that make me happy. Not some gadget.

So, what should I get for my birthday? Do I need anything? Do we ever really need anything in such affluent times? I have a wealthy life with an abundance of love and good health and friendship and safety and challenges and rewards. This I pondered as I broke into a sprint.

By the time I had run all the way home, I'd forgotten what the question was.

Today I taught a small class of mentally handicapped kids for the first time (I don't know what the current politically correct term is). I've had the occasional hyperactive student in my classes before, but this was a separate group of just seven kids, all with their own unique challenge to deal with in life.

It was such a mixed bag and I was a bit apprehensive, but still confident in my ability to show them a good time with good old gaijin power. I was severely humbled.

A regular English class at elementary school is a walk in the park for me these days - I have taught so many of them that coming up with winning activities for any target language on the spot is a breeze. Filed away in the back of my brain is an extensive collection of games that get the kids talking, reciting, moving, shouting, dancing, running, whispering, singing and interviewing each other. Combined with my arsenal of flashcards and an inflatable ball, I am guaranteed to have them speaking English and enjoying themselves.

But today was obviously massively different. I realised very early on that most of my fail-safe games just wouldn't be applicable in this situation; putting these students on the spot to talk English could potentially result in all sorts of tantrums. Luckily I had a group of five diligent ladies - mothers, special ed teachers and the homeroom teacher - to help me out.

First there was the girl who broke down into tears the moment she entered the classroom. The poor thing had to be escorted away but 10 minutes later rejoined the class and ended up being the chirpiest of the lot.

Then there was the energizer bunny who tried to climb up me like I was Mount Fuji at every opportunity. Once we managed to get her to sit down she kept answering every question with "Udon". I think she knew half the answers (she blitzed the fruit card race) but was just more interested in letting everyone know how much she liked Udon, in as cheeky a manner as possible.

One boy was super clingy; if he didn't have his arms wrapped around one of the adult carers for even a split second, he would also burst into uncontrollable sobs. Another seemed to not hear the sounds going on around him for most of the lesson, but was definitely not deaf as he had great pronunciation when repeating words after me at the beginning. One girl stopped playing the karuta card slap game and buried her head in her hands for the rest of the lesson.

And then came the streaker.

Yes, a strapping young lad interrupted me while I was introducing colours to the class by prancing into the room stark naked, save for a towel around his shoulders. He was also quickly ushered away and returned later on, fully clothed.

When I ran out of games, the homeroom teacher came to the rescue with a CD of English songs. Music, the universal language, is what really brought the class alive.

Everyone had a good old dance to The ABC Song, London Bridge Is Falling Down, and the not so politically correct but infinitely catchy Ten Little Indians. It was a hoot. Energizer bunny was bouncing off the walls and spun round and round till her face glowed with a smile from ear to ear. And the clingy boy had left his carer and was now clinging to me.

I don't know who was more reluctant to let go when the bell rang.

From The Australian...

World oil prices have surged to a post-Iraq-war high, pumped up by a huge gas refinery blast in Algeria, an icy US winter and low crude oil stockpiles.

New York's light sweet crude contract for delivery in February leapt $US1.13 to $US36.20 a barrel on its last day of trade. The March contract rose US87c to $US34.87.

Brent North Sea crude oil for March delivery gained US66c to $US31.23.

At least 27 people were killed and 72 injured when a huge explosion, apparently caused by a defective boiler, ripped through a liquefied natural gas plant near the eastern Algerian port of Skikda, Health Minister Mourad Redjimi said in Algiers.

Today I taught a couple of classes at an elementary school in Katsushika, and in one of the classes was a boy who couldn't sit still.

I mean, he was hyperactive or something. A kid whose mind worked slowly in terms of traditional learning, but whose body wouldn't sit still. He had a full-time teacher by his side to try and keep him and calm and help him focus his attention on what I was saying. But all he did was squirm and writhe and try and run on the spot while the special-ed teacher tried (with moderate success) to pin him down.

I don't know how she did it.

My job was easy. I only had to play games with the other 32 kids, teach them some simple English expressions, show them how to make the letters of the alphabet using their body, and generally goof off and have fun. "Normal" kids that age are easy to keep entertained. If there is some game going on, everyone wants to be part of it. In particular if there is some element of competition between teams, then you pretty much have the whole class in the palm of your hand and hanging on your every word.

But her job was to control this little boy who refused to be controlled. At one stage I heard her let out a muffled yelp as his flailing arms whacked her when he tried to break free and run into the centre of the room and disrupt the class in the middle of a game of "Duck, Duck, Goose". I really felt for her.

But it barely showed on her face. The entire 45 minute lesson she was beaming a huge smile which rubbed off on everyone, and when her hands were free she would join in the clapping of hands and try her darndest to get her young companion to do the same. She was amazing.

My hat goes off to all the special education teachers out there who spend their full time job giving extra attention to those kids who need it. I sure as hell couldn't do it. I don't know how you do what you do every day, but the rest of us (especially the parents of slow learners, I am sure) are certainly grateful for the job you do.

Ha! That's right folks, the university-student style protest tantrum thrown by senators Bob Brown and Kerry Nettle in front of President Bush at Parliament house yesterday made the front page of the papers... here in Japan! In a country where front page articles are usually about the latest political or corporate scandal, this is unprecedented exposure for the Greens party. Way to go Bob!

Unfortunately the online reporting by the Japan Times does not keep up to date with print editions, but The Age did a better job of covering it anyway...

Up in the rafters, US journalists could be seen gaping in disbelief as they encountered their first experience of Australian parliamentary behaviour. Bogong moths - the meaty, furry insects that invade Canberra at this time of year - wheeled crazily over Dubya's head and slammed into light fittings.

Prime Minister John Howard turned an odd, magenta hue.

"To be honest, sophisticated observers had serious reservations about the scruffy travellers who founded our two countries," remarked President Bush, persisting gamely with his speech. Condoleezza Rice, watching from the wings, maintained an impeccably groomed expression of neutrality, but must have been thinking: "I hear you, brother. Scruffy? Scruffy is fine - these people are certifiable!"

Ok, the submissions have been pouring in and I have some catch-up to do.

I have been trying to walk that fine line between staying informed (and angry) about the war in Iraq while not overloading on propaganda and useless but disturbing information related to it. It is probably a blessing that most of the news broadcasts in Japan are not bilingual as otherwise I would just sit glued to the TV screen in an unhealthy, perpetual mix of fascination and horror. Although the news web sites are certainly getting a solid number of hits from my browser.

But it is great to see other people not letting world events distract them from being creative and submitting stuff. I will get to them over the next few days, promise.

Incidentally, I know that the former Taliban regime in Afghanistan had suppressed any form of free expression, including paintings of living things, and that people were flogged or killed for possessing sculpture or portraiture. Islam has always had the belief that imagery is disrespectful to Allah, from the replacing of ornate Greek Orthodox murals in the Aya Sofia mosque in Istanbul with simple mosaics a thousand years ago, to the destruction of the Bamiyan buddha statues in Afghanistan only two years ago. However, Afghan creativity is very slowly starting to make an appearance on the web at places like the unfortunately-named Caca Kabul online gallery).

I started wondering whether Saddam's fundamentalist interpretation of the Koran included this suppression of creativity and whether we were going to see any stories like this after Iraq was "liberated".

It turns out however that there are loads of Iraqi painters, musicians and creative individuals out there, at places like iraqiart.com, and apparently Saddam himself has even written a few books according to this article. In fact it seems that the biggest threat to Baghdad's art collection being vanquished and its creative community being repressed is the current onslaught of American B-52 bombers.

I tried to search through the Koran for the phrase that Islamic fundamentalists interpret to mean art and music are sinful, and the closest I could come up with is this, when Mohammad is involved in confusing dialogue over how best to serve Allah (The Prophets 21:52 - 21:58):

When he said to his father and his people: What are these images to whose worship you cleave?
They said: We found our fathers worshipping them.
He said: Certainly you have been, (both) you and your fathers, in manifest error.
They said: Have you brought to us the truth, or are you one of the triflers?
He said: Nay! your Lord is the Lord of the heavens and the earth, Who brought them into existence, and I am of those who bear witness to this: And, by Allah! I will certainly do something against your idols after you go away, turning back.
So he broke them into pieces, except the chief of them, that haply they may return to it.

It seems religious scripture can mean anything to anyone. Any comments, anyone?