Souji

I have a confession to make. I used to hate cleaning. Wipe that baffled look off your face--it's true. As recently as 2 weeks ago, I hated all types of cleaning. Today, I find myself a changed man.

Every morning, I lumber up a hill to school. Upon arrival, one of the teachers is always ready to pop a Japanese pop CD into the school PA system. The music signals the beginning of souji, our cleaning time. Rather than hiring a janitor, many schools in Japan leave the cleaning to the teaching staff and students. In the morning, we usually clean the school grounds by weeding and raking. At first, I didn't know where to go. I'd look around to see what other people were doing and try to make myself as transparent as possible.

Morning cleaning had nothing on afternoon souji. The music would start and everybody would disappear. Sometimes I'd go the whole session without seeing another soul. I'd grab a rag and start scrubbing something.

I'm pleased to announce that I've changed. Do I hate cleaning now? Yes. But at least I know what's going on. It turns out that there's a cleaning schedule written in kanji, the elaborate writing system borrowed from Chinese. Even after this revelation, I still struggled to know where I should clean. It always seemed like people were just cleaning the same things over and over, even though they weren't dirty. Luckily, I have an advantage that helps me find new things to clean: I'm almost two meters tall. I no longer have to search for places to clean; I just clean the hall walls and windows where nobody else can reach them!

As for the outside, I found that they don't really care what you're doing as long as you look busy. Every morning, I trudge up the hill, grab a hoe, and head off to a corner to yank weeds. As I crouch down and hack at the ground, I take a few minutes to meditate about lessons, future plans, and anything else that's pressing. Okay, so I still hate cleaning. But souji time is actually pretty therapeutic now.