Classroom Full of Testicles. Literally.

My gray piece of shit gray chair wobbles as I sit in it. If I lean back there is a startling possibility that I will tumble backwards and fall onto whoever may be sitting behind me. But, wait. No. There’s no one there. I have just come from the staff meeting. Mr. U ushered me quickly into the meeting with a quick beckoning of the hand which would be interpreted in the States as “GO AWAY.” It’s something an old white lady would do to a little annoying yapping poodle. “SHOO SHOO,” it appears to say. But on the antipodal side of the world, it actually means exactly the opposite.

My ‘introduction speech’ was first on the agenda. Just as quickly as I was ushered in, I was ushered right back out before the words “nice to meet you” had left my lips.

So alone I sit in the staff room while they quietly confer in the meeting room about the foreigner. “Why’d she speak to us in Japanese?” “Where is she from again?” “What’s with her shoes?” “Why is she funny looking?” “Can she use chopsticks?” “It’s hot isn’t it?”

Minutes later the doors are unbarred. The window drapes are parted and they emerge once more from their mysterious, cult-like clubhouse.

One of my JTEs was Mr. U, a man of small stature, about my height. He had a rather flighty way about him, constantly ushering me hither and thither. Yet while his manner was flighty, his one good eye always managed to remain quite fixed on me. The other eye, which was about as lazy as some of the students here when it comes to English, would remain permanently fixed at something incredibly interesting off to the left which I sadly was never able to make out.

This man had quite possibly the smallest computer I have ever seen. Japan is the land of cute and small but this computer truly takes the cake being about half the size of a MacBook. It seemed appropriate for, say, a hobbit or a sprite. And while Mr. U is by no means a large man, to see him typing away on this Lilliputian sized computer caused him to resemble something of a giant. Perhaps it comforts him.

Another English teacher was this very nice woman who informed me that she had studied English on the Internet. Her pronunciation was wonderful and I can only assume that she was one of those “good” students who make me joyously happy in class. I asked her if she could draw me a map to the mall so that I might figure out how to get home later that day as I know my way from there. She obliged in the usual Japanese way by driving me to the mall instead as telling me to go to the corner, take a left and go straight would have been far too tricky.

On the quick journey we chatted about the school, made the usual small talk and then she did something which I was not at all expecting:

“Mr. M (another JTE) has very good English don’t you think?”
“Yes. Yes he does. He has quite a large vocabulary.”
“Yes a very intelligent man. Did anyone… tell you… anything about Mr. M?”
“No. no one told me anything.” Unlike my other schools which had given me a detailed schedule with the goals of each lesson plan (which was invariably to “ENJOY ENGLISH NOW WITH THE FOREIGN BARBARIAN”), I had entered this technical high school completely blindfolded.
“Well. Mr. M … tends to… go after… young girls.”
“… oh. Well uh, thanks for telling me.”
*fumbles to make sure pepper-spray is in the back pocket where it belongs*
*Uncomfortable silence falls*

No. No one had told me that. I can only imagine how that would go:
“Nicole- sensei – tomorrow you will go to technical high school. You watch out for teacher who sit behind you. He grab you when you not looking. Let’s enjoy English.”

Apparently the ALT two years ago had had some ‘difficulties’ with this teacher. Good thing I brought my New York certified predator endorsed pepper spray and mace along with me.

Mr. M’s class that day was the one class that I did not enjoy teaching. Not because he made lewd comments, tugged at my skirt or seemed at all like a dirty old man – if anything he was quite chatty, friendly and interesting (aren’t they all?). What irritated me off was how he handled the class.

I am used to having the teacher sit quietly in the back whilst I burst forward beams of energy towards the usually lethargic students. Mr. M did not allow me to do so. Every word out of my mouth was interrupted by a Japanese translation. And then he would say, “Nicole-sensei please repeat again.” So that I would end up saying “I COME FROM NEW YORK I COME FROM NEW YORK I COME FROM NEW YORK ICOMEFROMNEWYORK” ad nauseam.

Let me show them the pictures. Let me give them candy. And let’s be done with this God-awful monstrosity.

The students even caught onto this monotonous repetition and found joy in mimicking him, meshing his words together so they ended up sounding something along the lines of, “GREENPEACEGAIN.”

“Tomorrow’s class will follow the same format, Nikki-san.”

Goody.

It also didn’t help that he insisted upon seeing all the pictures I had prepared before any of the students. He would lean out from his stool to peer inquisitively at them and then give me the go ahead to show the students. My dear, you understand what I’m saying – it’s the students who need the visual aids.

“Nicole-sensei- pleaserepeatagain.”

“GREENPEACEAGAIN!!!!!”

The other two classes allowed me to interact with the students more which is kind of the point of my being there – to harass the students into talking to me, not to show some old Japanese man the pictures I took of my mother, father, sisters, New York City and Rome.

My classes today were ALL boys. I would say I have never been in the presence of so much testosterone in my life, but given the fact they are all Japanese high school boys who pluck their eyebrows more than I do, that would be a straight-up lie. They were energetic, cheerful and when I walked into the room their jaws dropped as I was a complete and total surprise. Although perhaps not necessarily a good one. Obviously the teachers don’t really tell the students what’s going on half the time – they too are locked out of the clandestine staff room meetings.

Given the fact that it is a technical school their English level was decidedly low. These boys don’t care about English – they are going to build air conditioners, law mowers, heating ventilation shafts, jets, planes or computers targeted towards hobbits. But that didn’t stop them from trying. I was extraordinarily chuffed when after looking down to see what the next question was on my quiz, I looked up to see nearly every single boy’s hand up in the air volunteering to answer. Some even had both hands excitedly in the air and were doing their very best to catch my eye. Granted the reward of having me sit in their lap upon a correct answer may have coerced some of them into participating.

Afterwards I had them interview a friend. The questions on the sheet aren’t hard but I tried to steer away from completely mundane things. One of the questions is simply, “What did you do last night?” I figured this would prompt SOME creativity on the students’ part.

I wish I knew more Japanese. Almost all the boys said SOMETHING along the lines of, “Lasto nighto I did something-incomprehensible-in-Japanese.” The rest of the class burst out laughing whilst I looked on with one eyebrow raised. On the way back to the staff room I asked the teacher to translate for me what on earth the boys had done last night. He couldn’t do it. Or rather, he wouldn’t do it. His only response was to shift his eyes away and say, “Uhm. In Japanese it is… difficult… to translate.”

This coming from a man who took German and was talking to me previously about Latin and Greek declensions. I can only assume that it was something dirty.

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Published:
9.28.06 / 5pm
Category:
classroom antics, amusing incidents