Farmer Sachan – “Growing Butterflies”

Sachan announced as she bounced through the door, “Guess what dad?  We are growing butterflies at school!”

“That’s great!” I said to myself because the child had flitted up and away.

Does this happen to you?  I am talking to you parents out there.  63% of my 14 regular readers are parents.  I am asking, “Does this happen to you?”  Your kid comes home and asks or says something that leaves your brain spinning in a whirlpool of confusion.   You put on your Mr. Positive Reinforcement face and say, “That’s great!”  But your brain is really going, “Gee that was a big ol’ turd that just went past and down through the whirlpool.”

Sachan speaks in English to me, but her brain works in Japanese.  So I always need to check the translation first.  Butterfly.  Yea she knows that.  You can’t confuse that with anything.  Growing.  Could be “raising.”  No, that doesn’t help.  This is Kamamura Shogako, where the kids regularly get Haagen-dazs ice cream after lunch.  So anything is possible.  This is Japan.  The country with an unprecedented fascination with and knack for all things micro and nano.  Super small, super lightweight, microchips implanted in butterflies.  Its Tokyo…it could happen.  Does the school have its own butterfly nursery?  Please this is a school with an entire garden on its roof…maybe the plants are in the butterfly cage?

I tracked down the always in motion child and started asking questions.  I had to know what “growing butterflies” meant.  You know what I got, don’t you?  Nothing.  Oh I got the rolled eyes; I got the puff and sigh that when translated by knowing parents means, “Dad, you are so weird!  Why in the world would you think that I am going to answer your questions?  Have you not been paying attention?  This is how I keep you wrapped around my pinky.  Now go away, I am having my afternoon snack and you know I can’t talk while I am eating.”

Fine.  Be that way.  Just wait.  Just you wait…your day is coming…one day…one day…HOLY CRAP!  I have turned into my parents!

I am a parent and I have ways of finding these things out.  That’s right, I took that step.  That step where a calm, intelligent, patient parent becomes obsessed with finding out what their child meant or did.  Of course tapping into parental powers always comes with a price.  In two weeks there was the always painful school observation days.  Once or twice a semester the school invites the parents to observe their students in class.  After first grade I found out I didn’t have to stay the whole day…what a horrible experience THAT day was.  Since then I have carefully examined the schedule and picked the one hour I thought I could best tolerate without wanting to jam a number two pencil down my ear canal far enough to tickle my mendula oblongata.

I went to the schedule on the fridge.  And I saw what I was looking for:  Wednesday, third period, Science class.

It would be nice if they had some chairs for the parents to sit on during these visits.  But they don’t, so I arrived a little early so I could claim the one back corner, next to the sliding glass doors which will be open letting a small breeze into the room.

As I walked to the corner I passed eight clear plastic containers (about three pints in size) each with green leaves; some apparently carefully selected for the bird poop on them.  I took my place in the corner and the bell rang.  The day’s class leader barked the order for the girls to stand.  Then barked the order for them to bow.  Then barked the order for them to sit.  Ah the sweet smell of discipline!  This routine is performed at the start and finish of each period, with a “thank you” added to the end of period routine.

Sensei told them to get into their Tateshina groups and then go fetch their marigold’s from the roof.  Sachan’s flower is an especially happy one as she spells it out in both English and in Japanese on the form sensei  has handed out:  Merry Gold.  Tateshina is the location of the school’s campus up in the mountains of Nagano.  The girls are getting ready for a three day, two night trip.  The class of forty girls has been divided into groups of five.

The girls moved their desks together to make a wide work space before dashing off to the roof to get their flowers.  Once back, they fill in the form, noting the date, weather and time.  Rulers pop out of the standard issue black leather pencil bags bearing the schools gold insignia.  Leaves are counted and measured.  Rulers are quickly put away and out come the bag of standard issue colored pencils.  Each girl draws a picture representing the current state of their plants…did you know a marigold stem has a purplish/burgundy hue?  Neither did I.  Then quick paragraphs are written at the bottom.

Sensei announces that once completed the sheets are to be brought to him and then they are to attend to the their butterflies.

Sachan’s group of five was very cute.  It was clear that despite having only recently been put into this group, they had already worked out the consensus forming sequence that continues to define Japanese culture.  There are no leaders in a group; everyone makes the same effort; everyone is equally accountable.  Despite trying to tarry and not being the first to finish, one girl had clearly finished her report.  One by one, she made quick and subtle eye contact with each member of the group.  Only after the last girl acknowledged her did she rise to turn in her paper and then go to the back to get their group’s clear plastic container.

The container, I now realized had holes punched in the top, and I assumed something besides the leaves was living inside.  Despite having brought the clear plastic cage to the table, the girl who finished first waited for the others.  Once everyone had handed in their papers a quick and polite debate began as to whose tissue would be the resting spot for the leaves and whose would the resting spot for “a something” that I had not yet caught.  Each girl reached into a front pocket of their standard issue konagi – the grey cotton dresses they change into upon arriving at school.  Each girl pulled out a small packet of tissues.  The type and color of each person’s tissues was examined and the consensus finally formed:  one girl laid down a tissue for the leaves; another girl laid down a tissue for the other thing.

A different girl opened the lid and used tweezers to pull out each of the five or so well leafed steams.  Each stem had a wet tissue at the bottom wrapped in a small bit of foil.  One of the leaves had a large green caterpillar on it, who continued eating as the girls checked him out.  (OH!  Growing butterflies!  I get it!)  One stem, much to their glee and amazement had been stripped clean.  Then there was the leaf with the bird poop on it, only it wasn’t really bird poop, is was the younger version of the caterpillar…kind of adds new meaning to the term “pupae.”

It was then that I realized what the “other” tissue was for:  the pupae poop.  There was again debate on who should clean the poop out, and who should take the poopy tissue to the trash.  Things went as planned until it was discovered that there was a fresh and still wet piece of pebble-sized poop with a little extra stickiness.  It was eventually removed with the tweezers leading to a consensus on who should pull it out and who should wash the tweezers.  With the poop removed, the leaves were carefully, and with a bit of artistic flair, placed back in the container.  The container was returned to the back shelf.  I am not one to brag, but clearly Sachan’s group was doing a great job raising their caterpillars-soon-to-be-butterflies as theirs looked significantly bigger and healthier than the others.  That and the leaves weren’t arranged as nicely.

The bell sounded.  My class observation completed.  My curiosity satisfied.

And in a few weeks the world will have 16 Kawamura-Shogako-grade-three-grown Asian swallowtail butterflies.