Thursday, December 13, 2007

Say anything.

In Japan, there's a narrow lexicon of phrases that are used ad nauseam. Before you eat, you say itadakimasu. In the morning, it's always oyaho gozaimasu. Around 11, the greeting switches to konnichiwa, and then to konbanwa around 5. You say atsui desu ne (it's hot, isn't it?) until winter, then samui desu ne (it's cold, isn't it?) until summer. It's a rare event when someone veers from the script, and this strict adherance to social norms makes teaching English in Japan an interesting task. To learn the English language, in many local opinions, is to memorize what you should say in each context.

So it's not surprising to hear "i'mfinethankyouandyou?" when you ask how someone is doing.

And it's not a shock to Japanese English teachers that this is a problem.

I just love how one of my co-teachers addresses the issue.

Me: How are you today?
Teacher: Oh, Kevin. Terrible, terrible.
Me: What's wrong?
Teacher: The students here... they're crazy.

There's a lot of heavy sighing, yet he smiles throughout the whole conversation.

I almost spilled my ramen after this exchange on Tuesday.

Me: How are you today?
Teacher: Terrible, terrible. Kevin, yesterday I took the day off. I went to the park with my two-year-old daughter. It was heaven. *pause* This is hell.

The best part of the whole situation is that I genuinely think he likes his job. He's always in a good mood, and he's super enthusiastic in class. Then again, sometimes he plays this game of chicken in the teachers' room to see if I will tell him it's time for our class together. I kind of stand next to his desk until he turns with this look of astonishment. "Us... now?" *Rolls up sleeve to look at watch.*

I am sorry. I'll try not to make the lesson terrible.

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Boys will be boys.

In the spirit of globalization, a few of my students' English vocabulary is entirely limited to what they hear in American rap songs. These students might produce a blank stare if I ask them what time it is, but they can recite the entire Marshall Mathers LP. I've literally had a conversation that went like this:

Student: "Jay-Z?"
Me: "Yeah, he's good!"
Student: "Tupac?"
Me: "Yeah, I like him too."
Student: "Eminem?"
Me: "He's also good."
*Student walks away smiling with his thumbs up.*

The other day, a student and I left school at the same time. I was a little ahead of him on a bike, and I heard from behind, "Hi, my name is... What, my name is... Who, my name is... zicka zicka zicka Kevin!"

Sometimes this same student brings his rap game into the classroom, which consists of him yelling random, expletive-filled rap lyrics at unsuspecting students. It'd seem violent if he weren't quoting.

To top it off, he'll occasionally type a naughty word into his Japanese-English speaking dictionary and have it recite the word throughout class. I sort of died inside when I confiscated it from his mischievous hands.

But sometimes these kids with their hippity hop can save the day. A few weeks ago I was having trouble getting a class started. It was the last class of the day, and the kids were hyper. One student, in all the ruckus, yelled, "Shut the f*** up!" They did.

Friday, December 7, 2007

I'm not here. This isn't happening.

I have a third year elective class that I see once a week. It's made up of eight girls and one guy, and I get to try lessons that wouldn't fly with, say, thirty first years. This past week I split them into two groups and had them write a story in twenty-six sentences. The first sentence had to begin with A, the second one with B, and so on and so on. I did this myself back in the seventh grade, and our group's story involved Jack (of Jack and the Beanstalk fame) escaping the giant's grasps while golden toilet paper spindled from the roll.

On Wednesday, this was the sentence when we reached the letter K:
"Kevin is crazy."

This was followed by:
"Look at his hair!"

As a pair, the sentences are funny. Coupled with events that occurred just the previous week, well, you decide.

As a primer, here is some personal information about my grooming habits. Sometimes I shower at night and sometimes I shower in the morning. If I shower at night, I spend the next morning trying to flatten my Van de Graff-ed hair. If I shower in the morning, I spend the post-shower period trying to, umm, volumize? But on this one particular day a week before the A-B-C stories, I had clearly failed to flatten.

A co-teacher greeted me in the morning with a smile. She then made a "pointy" motion with both her hands and said, "Your hair!"

In first period, I tried to make small talk with a student who had shaved his head since last I saw him. He misunderstood my comments and thought I was talking about my own hair. He spoke Japanese to my co-teacher, who then looked at me and said, "He wants to know what happened to your hair." Now, let's pause to think about how insane I must have looked to these people in a country where this is normal. And now we continue. For the rest of the class, something was different. I may not understand Japanese, but I understand students 1) pointing at me, 2) waving their hands above their heads, 3) looking around at other students, 4) laughing, 5) trying to cover their laughter with the hands that were just above their heads.

I had a break in second period, so I went to the bathroom. After a few minutes of dousing my head with water, I remembered another thing about Japan. There are no paper towels/napkins here. So, like any normal human, I scurried to a place where I could hide while my hair dried without the aid of processed trees. The only place with privacy happened to be the copy machine room, so I stood around dripping wet pretending to copy the invisible papers in my hands. A few awkward minutes later, I was home free.

But gossip spreads.

In third period, two girls in the back of the room were play-fighting before the bell rang. This actually happens quite frequently, but I walked to the back to see what was going on. I regret doing that. The two girls were fighting over something in one of the girl's hands. She stopped as I got closer and presented the object to me with two hands. "Present!" she said, as a plastic headband appeared before my eyes. I wish I could make this stuff up.

So how did the A-B-C story end a week later?

Apparently I use "expensive conditioner," but it's all a lie because I'm bald and wear a wig. And how can you tell?

"Zoom in."