The editorial was written for the Hamadera
Herald when Jim was eleven years old.
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| I, like many other boys and girls of Hamadera
School, have come many thousands of miles
from one of the forty-eight states to a land
that is strange. The thought of a new school,
a new teacher, in a strange land was a near
nightmare to us all. A lot of us were used
to the same teacher that had taught our moms
and dads. There were little Mary, Jack, Bill,
Henry, Pete and a bunch of others that we
have played with since we don't remember
when. We had the same Christmases, we all
went to the other's birthday party and would
still be doing the same if our moms didn't
think Japan would be a great experience for
us. Our school is not like most of us kids thought it would be. We miss the long street with elms, the old red brick school house with that old brass bell that we hated, but missed if it didn't ring. The teachers are different, the classes are different, and the books are different. Arithmetic is harder than we expected, it's hurry to school and hurry and get the lesson done. |
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| Jim Olson |