Newbie Invasion

“So, what do you normally do?”

I grit my teeth together to stifle a laugh. It’s cleaning time. It’s a new semester and all the new teachers are lost. They stand around faffing with papers and straightening up their already pristinely organized (and spanking new) desks - much like I used to do at the start. The same five, useless, unreadable papers that keep on finding their pesky way back into my mailbox would be shuffled around and rearranged. My books would be straightened up in the cubby and whatever random bits of garbage that had managed to accumulate on my desk would be carefully (and slowly) disposed of, sometimes multiple times. When they have faffed and faffed and they can faff no longer, they stand around with their arms folded, looking intently out the windows as if kings surveying their lands.

These days I manage to make myself look somewhat useful, pushing around the same pile of ancient Meiji-period floor grime with the students and methodically and deliberately collecting the various trash baskets around the staffroom. It’s really all in the shoes. If you make your shoe steps sound important, authoritative and loud – people think you’re doing something productive and with purpose.

Suddenly I am no longer the newbie. After my eight-month period of being the forever backwards, Lost-er than Hurley, wrong-place-wrong-time, new (and foreign) teacher, my spot has been filled thirteen times over. The newbie becomes the seasoned veteran – at least until the new teachers settle into their uncomfortable ghastly, gray, chairs, are collectively embraced as one of the homogeneous group and become right at home, forfeiting all possibility of a personal life and happiness, staying at school until 10:30 in the evening

A math teacher recognizes me from my monthly visits to the all boys’ technical school and immediately greets me. We’re like old friends, despite the fact we rarely spoke during my visits to his previous home. I will be his comrade on the island until he discovers that there are other people around him who speak his language. Then I will be quickly discarded as English platitudes and dirty words can only entertain for so long.

Diverted, I look around to see myself eight months ago. Frighteningly enough, there are thirteen of me wandering around aimlessly. Soon, however, they, too, will fall into the swing of things. They will befriend various students and will no longer look like lost little pound puppies hideously out of place. I suspect their turnaround rate will be much speedier than mine. They will master the thoroughly incomprehensible staff board in the front of the staffroom which still presents a quandary for me. They will become masters of the staffroom shuffle. They will learn how to sleep with their eyes open. They will have perfected the rhythm of rushing for the phone every time it rings and answering it breathlessly as though having just finished a 3 mile dash.

Four o’clock rolls around and for the first time ever a teacher leaves before me. My new English teacher jets from the staffroom before I have even packed up. There is no need for her to ask me for instructions. As far as I’m concerned, what she’s doing is absolutely perfect.

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Published:
4.12.07 / 7pm
Category:
classroom antics, amusing incidents, what i call life