ne person unlike anyone else I’ve hat new person is a beautiful part not anticipated, usually bringing y, hobbies, knowledge, and more nd be part of.
There is No Central Heating in Nishi Chūgakkō It’s not often you can see heat. You might picture a flame or the coils of a stove burning brittle orange, but neither of those examples is exactly what I’m talking about. What you’re really seeing is a flame or an oven coil. They’re both hot, but they’re not heat. I was in junior high in the early 2000s, that era when stick-like hair and bony legs reigned. Each morning, I needed to make sure the straightener was hot enough before pressing my hair into form, so I’d raise the thing to my nose, thinking I could smell the heat. My friends laughed at me for that—you can’t smell heat, they said. But I know, without a doubt, that we feel it. It holds us in bed longer than we should stay on frigid mornings, strangles us in summer, and maybe (just maybe) tricks us into thinking we can smell it when it nears our noses. It was the first day of school after the new year, the biggest holiday in Japan, and the students had gathered in straight lines along the gymnasium floor. It was in another junior high, but this time, I was an ALT attending the opening ceremony for the new semester. Most of us teachers were standing awkwardly around the side and back walls of the room like a bunch of bouncers, but a couple were walking around making sure everyone was in place. The sharpness of their motions and the strictness in their voices surprised me. These were the ones who laughed most loudly in the teacher’s room when someone made a joke. Two girls in the back whispered to one another, twirling their skirts from side to side to muster up some heat, maybe. Despite the 30 or 40 degree Fahrenheit cold and all the knee socks in anime, no one wore anything higher than a crew sock except me. I had knee socks on under my pants because it was winter, and I was still shivering. There’s no central heating in Nishi Chūgakkō. Since they dealt with the same issue in classrooms, the students were mostly used to chilled fingers and toes, but that didn’t stop them from scooting closer and closer to the space heaters placed around the gym once teachers turned their backs. A little heat was worth the reprimand and a swat back into place. Sometimes, the teachers looked annoyed, but I couldn’t blame the students—I was wearing knee socks under my pants, after all. My too-short pants that were perfect for any other season. My capris that flared out slightly at the bottom instead of blending politely into my knee socks. 59