Dear Students of Takasago...

Following are some letters my students wrote to the students of Takasago, whose school is sheltering 1000 homeless victims of Japan's earthquake in the Rikuzen-Takasago neighborhood, north of Tokyo. With resources tight and need great, Stu Levy, the founder of Tokyopop thought it'd be a great idea if people could send letters to encourage these students, who are working hard to rebuild; (his request was sent via Louise on fb—thanks Louise). 

I teach an advanced ESL class to Iranian, Korean and Russian students, who I realized would be perfect candidates to write these letters, as most have experienced disasters in their own countries. I just had to ask: my students immediately set about writing, gripping their pencils tight, diligently referring to their dictionaries for meaning and spelling. I told them spelling wasn't important; what was important was that they wrote from the heart. For an entire twenty minutes, no one talked. 

Here's a sampling of their letters (produced exactly as written):

Dear students of Takasago. we are in Los Angeles. we are thinking about your Live all the time and we are sorry for your lost. we know what you're going through. I am very angree and I wish I was there to help you. In my country we also experienced an earthquake.
we hope you can start your good life again. we are thinking about you and your life I wish Japan gets better faster. the Japanese pepale are picking themselves up and your story showed it in Nacazacy and hyroshima, you are special peaple in the world. 
God help you.
Sincerely:
kindly S.

Dear Students of Takasago
I am sorry that earthquake from Japan all of the world countries feels very sorrow
In my country we also experienced an earthquake
So Please don't despair of suffering
I hope you overcome quickly
my family, my country, all of people are thinking about Japanse people
Quen Shiteimasu!
Sincerely, K

Dear students of Takasago
Helo to the geat pepol Japan
wer heard about your terrible earthquak
and we were very sorry about it
we know what happend. that is very blues
you were and are a great nation and prograssive in the world
we have a bad experiance about earthquak terrible,
and you have a bitter remember about atomic bomb
in the end of 2 world war, I heard, after fifty years
all the fishes in the sea had blood cancer
So we're very worried about you
I believ you can make yourself same the past with honor
we're thinking about you in LA
with the best kindly, N

Two letter writers

After New York City... a deep slumber

I'd planned for months to go to NYC, planned every detail, everything I wanted to accomplish, which I did, but regrettably I neglected to make any plans for coming home. Once back, I fell into a deep sleep from which I've had trouble waking. 

Everything in Los Angeles is overwhelmingly bright, all white, dazzling light. I'm hypnotized by the white light.

 white everywhere

I feel like Snow White after taking a bite of the apple (get it, the apple?). The white houses here remind me of Greece, a country I've never been to but wish to visit, although I keep flashing on the recent rioting in the streets. What anarchy! What burning images!

This image of rioting in Greece looks like a scene out of Wagner's opera "The Ring."

Disoriented: feeling lost or confused, especially with regard to direction or position.  

It must be my job. Before NYC I had no problem teaching all week, but now I'm dragging myself to work. How much longer can I teach English to immigrants at night, when they seem not to be learning a thing?

Ehsanolah M., one of my longest running students, is a modern day Job, experiencing one failure after another, yet he keeps on trying. He's a religious man so he'd never believe that the gods are against him, but God keeps tripping him up: Ehsan sets his alarm for 4:30 a.m., but this morning, he tells me, he fell back to sleep and woke too late to get to Shul for morning prayers. He rushes there nonetheless, but misses the last prayer. 

He then trudges back home and finds his car is leaking oil. "The car is no good" he says. He's been saying that for a very long time. He takes it in to get serviced, but by the time he gets home the car's empty of oil again. By 9 a.m. he packs a big black garbage bag full of cheap clothing to sell and takes the bus downtown to L.A.'s garment district, walking for hours up and down Santee Alley, Olympic Blvd, Twelfth Street, Wall and Pico, but no one is buying. He walks and walks for "little benefit," and with his feet hurting, and makes not a farthing. He comes to class exhausted and sits with his head in his hands staring at the page, not knowing how to answer the simplest question. He's been out of work ever since I began teaching, almost two years now—with no money, no prospects, no way to support his family. English is the last thing on his mind.

Ehsanolah M. and his teacher

New York was so thrilling, I could have stayed forever, going to museums, having lunch with friends, writing with my friend M in her beautiful apartment, but this is real life, not as thrilling when you get right down to it.