Lesson learned: Paper Airplanes cause regret.

I decided it was a good day to play Bingo with my third grade class.

I brought in a bingo card for each student, and considering as it is difficult for them to write English (read:impossible)I gave them the challenge to just draw a picture of the sport or musical instrument that I had recently taught them into each bingo square.

The game went well, everyone cheered, also we played until everyone won. I don't like to leave kids out of the satisfaction of winning. (In kindergarten, we play musical chairs except I never remove a chair. No one loses, and no one seems to notice.)

After class I went to the teachers office, and sat there trying to look busy for a half hour. Pretty soon I hear the usual "Shitsureshimasu!" At the door, a child asking for permission to enter. He walks right up to me, and starts saying all sorts of things in my general direction. I notice he looks sincere, so I pretend as if I know what it is he is saying. "Mm. Mm." Is my response to everything. Which, in writing, looks gross. But it is a grunt of understanding.

He says something about a "Bingo Cardo" indicating the sheet I gave him. Then he says in english "I'm Sorry. Gomenesai." Which would mean he is pretty sorry.

I have no clue what this little guy is sorry about. But I tell him not to worry about it.

After this I go upstairs, as I walk by this last class I had literally the whole damn class gets up and swarms me in the hall. All of them saying a similar speech like this last little guy. They almost all conclude with "I'm Sorry. Gomenesai!" At this point, I am concerned.

I see a few of them reading something on the board as they speak to me. And I peek in. On the board, one of the other teachers had written something in English, and a Japanese interpretation on the bottom.

"I made Paper Airplane Bingo Card. I'm Sorry."

What??

This country has poisonous caterpillars.

So help me god, poisonous caterpillars.

On top of that, poisonous moths! Fuck that, moths and poison?

It's no wonder they developed Mothra.

Violence in the land of the rising sun

I was running late for class, I couldn't find my English teacher, so I started towards class alone. When I got upstairs I was met with the usual "Scotti Sensei!!!!!" The kids were unusually thick in the hall. I was talking to two of them when I looked over and saw this crazy little kid beating the shit out of another student.

My company has a strict "No interfering!" policy. They basically tell me regularly not to commit any acts of discipline. Which normally is totally fine. In fact, I prefer not punishing any student for the usual things they do in class. And the teachers are fantastic at being a strict enforcer. Seriously, if a student is acting up, he (or once, she) gets dragged out of the room by their ankle and screamed at in the hall. They always come back in tears, and silent. It's amazing.

So I start for the students fighting in the hall. For clarity, these kids are ichi nensei. So 7th graders? I yell "Hey stop! Which means practically nothing to them. But one of the kids is holding this tiny one back, and he looks at me like "Seriously? Okay....you asked for it." And lets go of this pocket Hercules. The little one took off into the crowd, with his angry little fists flying. I grabbed him just prior to his tiny fist connecting. I picked him up, which just pissed him off even more. He started crying and kicking me. I pinned his arms against him and dragged him into an empty room, just as I had seen every teacher do before me.

Standing between him and the door I was effectively a shield against his ADD fueled rage. No clue what he was saying to me, but I bet it would have made my mother blush.

Suddenly the head of teachers walks past the room, I opened the door saying "Sumimasen!" (Excuse me) He came over and within seconds had the kid in tears on the floor.

I still have no idea what that was all about. But that kid really seems to respect me now.

A cat without a meow

What's a writer that doesn't write?

I guess an English teacher?

I'm back, I have cleansed (been cleansed?) from the lives that fuck with me. And am feeling pretty good.

Teaching has been phenomenal. My student just advanced to Prefecture level on her English Speech Contest. Despite how pointless those speeches seem to be.

It's time to move forward and continue seeing life as beautiful as it is.
Perhaps through a foggy, drunken eye. But that's just me.

I'll put up the shit I have been writing over the next day or so. I have so much to tell you. Both of you.

Pure Mindfuck.

Forgive my absence.

I made a promise to write every week. I do in fact write every week, but its pen to paper. That will never make it to my Blaaagggg. In which case, allow me to post some of that here. I assure you I will get back into this groove. It has been a difficult few months.

Difficult is not the right word.

Emotional might be more correct.

Working as an English teacher.... it can be taxing. It is far and away the easiest job I have ever had, but I cannot help but stress on a daily basis. I go in to class, and I want to be the best English teacher I can be. I want to be what I am paid to be. This stresses me out on occasion. I am at peace with this now. But for a time I was struggling with this fact.

The Japanese work differently than I do.
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Purexed

I'm trying not to slip. Been trying not to lose footing, loose land keeps the pressure on my kicks.

Cause when I fall I tend to land like a ton of bricks. Stand like a man made of concrete and sediment like, fuck your skin. Nobody needs it. There's bones muscle and blood, whats realer than fat and tendons? It's raw, no soft tissue to draw your eyes to it. So far, flesh ain't the truest, let's all rip into it.

We're all sick of the missed shots.

Passed over like the last man picked, no team, so pissed off. And thats not honesty, thats just soft curves that have your world flipped, got you making mix tapes for girls.

And thats the skin again. Let's blame the skin again, stretching itself so fluidly over these awkward ligaments.

I didn't shave today. I probably wont tomorrow and its safe to say I'm never going to shed these extra...

So fuck it, back to the wall.
Crush it, laugh at em all.
Hush...let em try to find the beauty in your face.

Homework

Every day one of my schools has me give an English dialogue with the students right before everyone eats lunch. Over the intercom. At first this was terrifying, but I quickly realized about 99% of the school has no idea what I am saying anyhow, so there is really no reason to be nervous. Its just that the kids say something in Japanese, and I repeat what they said in English, then the kids repeat what I said. Its incredibly comical. And I have now taken to simply trying to get them to laugh on the intercom while being broadcast to the entire school. I use funny accents, or dance like a maniac behind them while they talk. Today one of the girls completely lost it, and had to have a friend step in to finish. She hit me over the back of the head, but I pretty much deserved it. Besides, she was in sixth grade, not much behind those slaps.

The reason I mentioned this to be slightly terrifying, is due to the process. They come find me after my last class just prior to lunch.

They say (in Japanese) "It's time for the special English lesson."

I stand with a petrified look on my face, as they hand me a sheet full of Kanji and Japanese words. They expect me to know what it means. At first I would then run to the other teachers who barely spoke English, and they would explain to me the vocabulary. Today however, was different. A incredibly quiet kid from my favorite 6th grade class came to find me. He hands me the sheet and we go through the usual routine.

"Its time for the special English lesson." He says.

"Hai. Wakarimasen." I reply.

Then he points to the sheet, and in perfect english says "What vegetables do you like? I like Bamboo sprouts, and cabbage." Which was the line I should be repeating.

WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IN CLASS!?!? I haven't taught 'Vegetables', 'bamboo sprouts' or 'cabbage', let alone how to string all of that together in a sentance. in fact about all we have gone over is "Like." He never says anything, and he speaks more English than any of the teachers in the school. I was stunned.

The novelty of "Scotti Sensei" is wearing off in my Junior High. They still enjoy me of course, but as I was discussing with Stuart this evening, they seem to be reverting to their supposed 'Usual Behavior' now, even when I am around. Sleeping in class, rolling their eyes when asked questions. Usual Junior High responses, I suppose. On top of that we have received a bunch of Student Teachers from Hiroshima University to help at the school. One of them is a young man. He (thankfully) has distracted the girls in the school. I now laugh at them when they giggle as he walks past. The student teachers are at a lower end of the totem pole than even I am within the teaching staff at Yoshida Junior High. Although, Adam was commenting that perhaps we are on an entirely different totem pole. These kids bow like maniacs when I come in, and essentially treat me like one of my students. It really is uncomfortable. And for some reason of all the people I have met in japan (Japanese people that is.) No one seems to give me their name when I introduce myself. I really can't explain this. Maybe they just expect me not to remember it? If so, they are right. But still, I wouldn't mind getting a vague idea. I have teachers I work with quite regularly who at this point would undoubtedly be offended if I came at them saying I don't know their name. I don't know how to rectify this problem. It will hopefully work itself out.

I won't be able to afford to come home this summer. I am letting that sink in. Part of me is oddly thankful. Although I am terribly lonesome for home, it seems a little silly to spend my break back there, when there is so much to see here. It is weird to admit that I literally have no clue when the next time I go to the states will be.

The Oil spill almost brings me to tears to think about.

Although, there is a lot here that brings me far more joy than I expected. Teaching in and of itself is wonderful. I have been writing constantly...obviously not here. But in Brynn and Jason's wonderful present. I have been running a lot. In fact, last night I went for a run through the mountain. I was gone for about a half an hour, and pretty deep onto a old road in the woods, when I hear a scream and rustle in the forest. I immediately stopped, knowing it had to be monkeys. The way they moved, even the smell reminded me of the monkey enclosures at the Zoo's i visit. I began making my best impression of monkey noises, and jangling my keys in an attempt to get them to come out of the woods. it was night so I could not really see anything. However, it was working, they started coming back towards me. Just as I was sure they would break the refuge of the forest wall a lone car drove past, caused another outlandish scream and they took off again. This morning in my Elementary School, I was discussing local animals with a teacher who lives just behind me. She said on her drive home the other night she saw a bear. I can't shake the feeling that a bear thought it might be close to enjoying a tasty monkey as I stood in the road making squeaks and cries.

Last weekend brought thousands of visitors to Hiroshima for a Yukata festival. Summer Kimono's. The kimono's where beautiful.

As was the company I kept.

More to come on that. It's late.


My Backyard. He is developing his "C" shape nicely.

Suddenly, everything has changed.

I love you Internet, for keeping me in touch with home.

I hate you Internet, for keeping me in touch with home. 

Rice planting season. They have ceremonies for the beginning (or slightly after the beginning) of the season. The women dress in Kimono, and stand in knee deep mud and water planting rice, while the men pound drums, play flutes and juggle some sort of crazy stick. We received an invite last Sunday to visit a rice festival. The planting started at 10am, and at 5:30 there was a party to celebrate. So being the lazy foreigners we are we wound up at the party in the evening, but missed the planting. I regret this now, but had no clue what I was missing at the time. 

I had met a woman named Naomi at my sports festival (see below, me running like an ass.) her and her husband (and their four children!) live in a Buddhist temple north of the town I teach in. My good friend Adam teaches her kids at one of his schools. They like foreigners, and speak really impressive English. So they asked us to come out and visit the town festival. We showed up prior to Naomi getting there...therefore upon entry into the party, we met about a dozen terrified faces staring back at us. They had no clue what we planned on doing there, or how we got invited. But of course, this is Japan...they cant deny us, (they could...actually...) nor do they grasp enough English to ask exactly why we are there.  So we nervously entered and sat down at a open table. 

Pretty quickly one of the locals came and asked us who we are and who we know. He was being polite about it, as it only takes about three seconds of talking to Adam, Ryan or myself to realize we come in peace. He understood that we know Naomi, and Adam teaches next door, and like that we became guests of honor. Of sorts. 

I was driving our group of Gaijin, and therefore could not drink. However, everyone else at the party seemed alright with drinking, and proceeded to. Heavily. I have come to find this is a "Drinking Culture" but they just cant handle it the same way we can. They were sauced early on.  But quickly after our delicious meal (complete with plenty of curious guests sitting by us for a few moments.) came some more drinking, and a famous Shimasen player from Tokyo put on a concert for us. How she wound up playing in this tiny town hall is beyond me. (click this link...she was not the blonde woman. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhtXZAFom7A )

This concert became a sing along with all the participants, and after she let the three of us play her guitar. Ryan pulled out some Nirvana. I was very impressed. 

For a few hours after the concert we found ourselves talking with literally everyone at the party. One of the planners came over and asked Ryan and I to talk some sense into his daughter. Apparently she had no "direction" in life. She just graduated High School, and had no job or plans for college. I mostly talked with her about pop-stars I didn't even know about from America. I failed. Ryan really wanted to reach this kid. He quasi-adopted her.

At one point one of the locals was trying to offer me a drink. I denied. He said "you are right, it is not safe to drink and drive, the police station is next door."

I laughed and said "Yes I know."

He replied, "But the police officer is over there." and pointed to a belligerently drunk man rolling backwards onto the floor a few tables down. 

If these sorts of things keep happening to me, it is going to be quite difficult to pry myself away and come home.

Bipolar

I guess I am at the stage in which I should be missing home. It's hard to say though, my correspondence with Minnesota is hugely bipolar. I can talk with my dear friends, and my close family, and I instantly want to be home with all of you. But then a creeping cesspool of anger can still reach its slippery tentacles from Minnesota. Enough to make me glad I am far away. 

I suppose you get your good days and bad days anywhere, right? No matter if you are the "happiest" you have been in a long time. Its bound to sneak up on you occasionally. 

I had a lesson yesterday, in which I was catching a sixth grade class up to another. The class that was ahead had a game day. I had them in pairs making human shaped alphabet letters. That was possibly the single most hilarious thing I have ever seen. Lord I don't think I will forget the letter "F" for a long time. A particularly fat kid had his friend on his shoulders, his friend stuck out his arms, while the chubby guy stuck out his. It was perfect. I couldn't imagine a better F.

Which reminds me. Every day on my ride in to my schools I take the same highway. And everyday I see this massive man on a Scooter making his way in my direction. It never fails, rain or shine, this fat man is riding his scooter down highway 54, towards Hiroshima. I eagerly anticipate this passing. He looks like he is very comfortable with his appearance. I can get behind that. He wears this little helmet, and sticks his legs so far out on each side of that scooter, he looks a bit like a penis. I laugh every time he goes past me. I saw him on Friday, in pouring rain, looking positively miserable on that ride. But he still brightened my day. I hope to meet this man someday. 

This is a confusing country, full of confusing people. Both local and Gaijin alike. 

I am lucky in that I seem to be able to get away with murder as far as the language is concerned. I don't know as much Japanese as some of my friends here, I am learning but it is slow. However, most of my schools and teachers are alright with my lack of knowledge. In fact, I would argue that they think it is charming. At least so far. It certainly wouldn't hurt to learn more though. 

Every spring the schools have a Sports Day. They practice their asses off, and spend a day on a weekend playing games in front of the parents. I cant begin to describe how much fun these days are. Imagine the old elementary activity day, where we had track and field, relays, long jump, etc. Except here the sports are things like pushing giant balls around, or chasing after your English teacher who is wearing a laundry bin on his back and throwing balls in it. Or singing chants at the other half of the school. I wish I knew what these chants meant, I assume they are insightful, but just watching them changed my life.  I am so thankful for those little smiling faces. They bring a steady warmth to this often ridiculously dramatic world. 

Doesn't want to miss a thing.

It only took me about 10 years, but I made it to Japan. 

I think I got here a little late. I should have left a long time ago. I would have saved a lot of energy, and a lot of friendships. 

But I am here now. Right now. About as happy as I have ever been. I came here to figure out who I am when I am alone. Without the backbone that I developed over the years in my friends and family, and I am starting to realize I kind of like that person. I do miss that Minnesota backbone, how couldn't I? But it's nice to see what I am capable of without it.

Immediately on landing I was thrust into a entirely new world of uncertainty, and confusion. I manage to live my life on the border of a happy state of numb confusion most of the time anyways, but this is different. I couldn't figure out what was going on those first few days if I wanted to.  Right off the plane I was surrounded by foreign. Everything was different, just like that. It seems like a world away, and it has only been two months. I can't imagine where I will be in a year. So much opportunity for growth. 

I would go into stories involving the life I have lived over the last few months, but I think I have explained it to most people as it is. I will just try my best to summarize. 

I immediately began to loathe foreigners in Japan. Self loathing? I suppose. I met some Australians the first night here, one of them was asking for the toilet. He sat there grabbing his dick saying "I need to WEE WEE."  I don't know much, but I think Toilet is pretty universal. I told him that. He didn't approve. 

The drive to Hiroshima (via bus) was an experience in itself. I was the only passenger on that bus, and I spent the whole time smiling. The driver kept looking back at me and laughing. I would crest a hill and let out an audible "ooooooooooooohhhh....." with a shit-eating grin on my face. I was taking pictures of hillsides and traffic signs. I was the perfect tourist. When he dropped me off I asked him where my hotel was. He had no clue, so I cut off in the complete wrong direction. I dragged all of my earthly belongings behind me as I shuffled acros busy streets and through the stares of countless Japanese. Wondering what the hell I was doing. I was finally stopped by an old man.

"Where you from?" He asked.

"America!" I said with an ounce of shame.

"Ahhhh! Texas!" He replied. 

I smiled, and said "Close. Minnesota!" He looked at me utterly confused. 

"Thats okay...you are very handsome." and he walked away. Apparently Texas is all there is in America. Thank you Bush. 

I spent the next two days entirely alone. At a Hotel I thought was intended for me by my company. When we finally started training, I met all of the other trainees in the lobby and we started off to our meet-up. Turns out I was in the wrong hotel this whole time. I would have had my accommodations covered, but those are minor details...right? The wounds from that are still fresh, after two months. In fact, they might be infected. 

Training was wild. I met some amazing people who I think I will be close with for the rest of my life. It takes a certain kind to drop everything that is comfortable and move to a strange foreign country. Especially in a company that is so uncertain, and a profession with literally no definitive answers as this. I did not know where I was living until the first day of training. They did not have an apartment for me until the day I was leaving for it. I didn't have a car, or even know what schools or how many I would be teaching in until I moved to my new home. We all are in the same boat. Almost everyone had that same bit of uncertainty. Maximum respect to all of these people. 

Since training I have begun my new profession. It is literally one of the best experiences of my life. I love my job on a level I did not know I could. I go into class every day with a massive smile. I almost dance down the halls, and (literally) sing my way through most lessons. I could not be happier. It used to be said when describing me by someone who knows me well that I had a deep darkness inside. I lost it. Unless trouble from home is brewing, I am shamelessly happy. I smile and laugh all day long. This is therapy. I wish everyone could do this for a year.

I plan on making it more than one year. I don't want to stop so soon.