And along came July.

I was reeling from my experiences in June, cursing this country for everything that it was. My Japanese was getting better, but it’s not like I actually wanted to use it with too many people. Fortunately, outside of all the crappiness of my schools…I had a good social network to keep me going.

I doubt I’ve mentioned this before, which is odd, but…since March, I gained two more English conversation classes. These classes are a major source of my income…not to mention a major source of my “good times in Japan”. The first class is on Wednesday evenings, and my students are 5, 60+ year old women, whose English most definitely ain’t all that good, but have some awesome spirit in them. One of them even invites me to her house every week before class for a traditional Japanese dinner, and a chance to teach her three granddaughters English. Two of the three happen to attend Hell, and actually help me out when I’m there.

As for these five women, they’re not even really there to learn English! It’s just a social gathering for them, and a chance to exercise their brains, which is an area in which the Japanese have Americans STOMPED. Well…past generations, at least. Also, the more I teach there…the more I’m beginning to notice these girls are just havin’ a good time flirting with the young, tall English teacher, which is creepy and hilarious at the same time. They’re always asking me about girlfriends and what not. It’s a great time, really. And recently, an old teacher came back to visit, and he and I talked about the whole experience of being an English teacher here, and it seems that, yeah…they just like flirting with the teacher…when it’s a male. And lemme tell ya, using whatever Japanese you can gets compliments that can lift you out of any bad day.

My other class has somewhere between 7 and 12 students, two of which are actually from the Wednesday class. The ages range between 35 and 79. I teach it on Thursdays, at the biggest building in my little town. And through the wall from my little class is the one, the only, Tom! The JET of our city. We make a habit of dropping in on each other’s classes from time to time. And lemme clear something up. I don’t hate Tom, guys. Really. I just play stuff up for comedic reasons on this journal (and sometimes in real life). Besides, the dude came in and apologized about taking my schools, explaining that it wasn’t his choice, so we’re cool. He’s still the person I must defeat in Japanese, though. I like the competition.

Speaking of Japanese, I’m also enjoyin’ my class, which James joined back in June, so he, I and the Turkish guy, Ali, are all gettin’ smarter every week. It’s good times. In the last part of July, Ali and I went to a International Student Conference thing with our Japanese teacher, where we got to hang out with lots of people, but apparently ended up as playthings for the local girl scout squad. Why must children always try to swing from my dreadlocks…really?

In the early part of the month, Matt invited Stephanie and I to a festival in the first town he visited in Japan, Koga. We met all his old friends, Stephanie got to look really good in a yukata (it’s a summer kimono), and me? Well, maybe I drank a lil’ too much. …Oops? Actually, I hadn’t eaten that day, so like…two beers sent me to a very happy place. Unfortunately, because I went to the festival, I couldn’t do a favor for my favorite Japanese family…but they didn’t hate me too much. In fact, they invited me out to a beer garden in the later part of the month!

Now, it’s been said before…and I’ll say it again. I really do love this family. And…maybe they like me, I dunno. I arrived and everyone was there. Tokiko (Mom), Shinichi (Dad), Riyo (The Sister), Sui (The Granddaughter) and Miho (The Daughter). Anyway… It seemed the goal was to see just how much I could drink. This seems to be the goal of all Japanese people, actually. But Miho was actually challenging me this time, claiming that I had said that “Americans can drink a lot more than Japanese people.” I assured her I hadn’t, and also warned her, that if I did anything stupid that evening, it was all her fault. She found that funny.

Later, I was asked to lift Little Sui as high as possible, because she wanted to touch the lights that were hanging from a nearby tree. Actually, I was asked twice. Fortunately, I’m quite found of Lil’ Sui, and she seems to enjoy hanging out with me, so it was fun.

Afterward, Miho, Riyo, Riyo’s husband and I…oh, crap and the music teacher that was at the Christmas get together…dunno if that sounds familiar…well, we all went to karaoke. And had a really good time…I think.

Why “I think”? Alright…first let’s talk about another experience at Hell.

Pool day. The sixth graders were having an awesome time at the pool. I sat by watching, and yet again, was reminded of a certain time in my past. The time when I couldn’t swim…which was for a VERY long time. I’d sit by the pool and watch the other kids enjoying the water, and for the life of me couldn’t figure out why I hated it so much. It looked fun. Id looked like pure enjoyment, but the moment I got in the water, it all changed. I mean, I’d been through every kind of swimming lesson you could imagine. The ol’ “toss him in” technique, which TOTALLY didn’t work on me. Then the “Dad’s gonna swim with you on his back” deal…the actual swimming lessons at the YWCA…weekly practice with my dad…it…none of it worked. Shoot, I STILL don’t like swimming. I can do it, sorta, but no, man. Which made for some no-fun situations at parties and stuff as a kid.

And…as I watched these kids, being taught all sorts of swimming techniques in school…I realized just how weird a kid I was. Like…seriously. The things I did, said…they must’ve weirded my parents out to no end. I know my dad had to deal with the fact that I wasn’t the tough lil’ son he wanted…actually I remember being scared of my dad from those days (which, draws up interesting parallels with my own fear of being feared)…nowadays I wince at how that must’ve felt for him. And then all the conditions and inabilities I had, the fact that I was always sick, the things I’d do and blurt out from the frustration of bein’ so dang off key from every living soul I knew…I’m shocked I didn’t explode back then. The lack of confidence in any and everything about myself… Then I remembered the cynical version of myself that emerged from those inadequacies…and how strong it got in hopes of hiding my past. Then I realized how…the moment I got into college, people latched on to that cynic. Thought he was cool. So, that version of me became prominent, for the sake of keeping it hidden from everyone I knew. A false confidence, and a mysterious loner-ish personality…all of those masks…all to hide the truth of just how awkward I am in this world. All to hide my own self-loathing…

I realized that hated darn near everything about myself. All my accomplishments and endeavors…I’ve never been proud of them. They’ve just been a bit of protection from the real me or something. I realized that…I genuinely think something is wrong with me. That every action I’ve ever taken…I look back on it with shame, as if I could’ve done something better. Choices I’ve made, chances I’ve taken…shoot…every single word that comes out of my mouth, I look back on it…analyze it…find everything wrong with it…and pack the shame away.

Because of this…everything I did at that beer garden with that family…I fear that I screwed something up. I fear that they think I’m as big an idiot as I think I am. This happens with all of my friends, but…if you mean something to me, I feel even more awkward around you, and hate my every move even more. This family…they apparently mean more to me that I can comprehend, and so…even now…though I type this almost three weeks after the fact…I hate everything I did that evening. Despite the fact that Sui enjoyed being lifted so high…despite the fact that Shinichi still boasts about me like I’m his son…despite the fact that I had Miho laughing the whole evening…I still think it’s all a lie. That they have to be thinking that I’m…just a big, stupid—

Ugh…I think we’ve found the next level of my growth here. First it was removing my dislike of the people around me…now I gotta learn not to hate myself so much…and stop swearing that there’s something wrong with me. And for that reason…I’m actually posting this…unedited…

And now you’re caught up to August. I’ll give you a few updates about what’s happened up until the present…including the wonderful process of getting a Japanese driver’s license!

D

One of my friends recently chastised me, saying “You always SAY you’ll catch us up on your blog, but then…you just stop!”

So let’s get this done, right here, right now. But I’m only gonna take you to the end of July, so calm down.

First up, June.

June was a month of discomforts… Reminders of who I was, who I didn’t want to be, and who I most definitely didn’t want people to know I’d been. My schools seemed to be getting on my nerves. I could find almost no redeeming factor in any of them. Not that I hated the kids or anything…there was just nothing that really shined for me. At moments like those, I usually assume that the “honeymoon phase” is over, but it’s been over for a while now.

My days at Hell began to wear on me, as the students either didn’t treat me as a human being, or were absolutely terrified of me. The teachers were quite friendly, but man…it wasn’t enough. The kids just were under no control, and it was really getting to me. I’d try to teach, with no help from the teacher, and things would just go wrong. There were even some golden moments that I can’t remember because of how frustrated I felt all the dern time. Like…uh…the number’s lesson! Yeah, I was teaching the third graders about numbers 1 through 10. I would hold up a card, and they’d say the number. But, I held up the number 3, and said,
“What’s this?”
One kid replied, with perfect timing, “It’s a butt!” The whole class roared with laughter. Now…today, even when thinking about it, that kid and his timing makes me laugh…it’s a moment I’ll never forget, but at the time, I was not in the mood for that, man. Sad, too…because for a third grader…that was comic genius.

There were two moments in Hell that stand out for me in that month. The first was when a second grader was sitting next to me during lunch, and she was looking curiously at my skin. Her eyes said everything; she couldn’t believe such a thing could happen. And when it seemed she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she asked me, gently,

“Why is your skin so dark? Did someone hurt you?”

At first I was a little upset at the question—upset that someone would consider my skin color an affliction, but then I saw her face. She actually looked like…if I told her who had done this to me, she would wait until she grew up, track them down, and bring me their head. It made me smile before I explained things to her.

The second moment was not so cute. A first grader was looking at me with interest and fear. And suddenly, he asked what was on his mind.

“Mr. David, are you human?” and he and his friends ran away laughing.

Now…that question cut me deep. Like…really, really, really deep.

Later that week, I got to hang out with my friend Akira and his new girlfriend, Azuka(?). Matt came along too. We ran around Tokyo a bit, had some dinner…had a grand ol’ time. Afterward, Matt and I went to visit our friend, Canadian Dave, where the two of us realized the beauty of our home state, and just how far we’d come since we’d left. It was a great evening. The next day, Matt and I wandered through Shinjuku Park, and went to a small food shop, where I somehow got the e-mail address of a Chinese girl who worked there. Hey, don’t look at me, man…

That outing left me feeling quite refreshed, and ready to take on the world, but another visit to Hell sure blasted that out of me. Why is that school such a downer for me?

Anyway, soon afterward, I went to “Too Close To Home” school, where I had the pleasure of working with the sixth graders. Now, these kids at this school, I like, because their a playful bunch, and not in that “I’m-a kancho you!” kinda way either. They laugh with you, and actually treat you like a human being. Odd…because I’d argue sixth graders are the complete opposite in America.

I was simply doin’ self-introductions that day, and all was going well. One by one, they’d stand up, I’d say hi, ask the kids their name and what they liked, and we’d move on. Then I came to one girl. This girl, in aaaaall the times I’d come to that school, seemed quite alright. She never said much, but she always seemed excited if she saw me in the halls. But today…something was odd. I could see it on her face. I figured she was nervous, so…I did a bit of a goofy walk over to her, which made the class laugh, and I said in a very bright, friendly voice, “Hello!” Next thing I knew…she was backing away, and her face had gone pale. She was trembling. I saw she was freaking out a bit so I stepped WAAAAAY back. But it was too late…tears began streaming down her face. The poor girl was terrified.

Now, I don’t know if you all know this about me, but…I don’t like being feared. It’s something that’s bothered me for a long while, believe it or not. Someone being afraid of me is something that slices through to my soul…triggers a lot of emotion in me. Brings back a lot of bad memories. Combine that with the fact that tears from any female pretty much render me powerless, well…I was distraught, to say the least.

One of the kids jokingly said, “Oooooh, David! Look what you did!” Understandable reaction…I probably would’ve made the same joke.
The teacher asked, “What’s wrong?”
The girl replied, “He’s scary…”

The words seemed to hammer another nail into my heart. But then the kids started laughing at her, saying, “What the crap is wrong with you? It’s DAVID! He’s not scary!” But the poor girl couldn’t contain herself. She just kept trembling as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It was at that moment, my pain was replaced by sympathy…and I actually began to defend the poor kid, telling the class to leave her alone…and in that moment, she calmed down. Later on, she stood up again, and finished her self-introduction, tear-free. But that had done it for me…

I went back to the teachers’ room and sat at my desk, and immediately e-mailed Matt about it, trying to scoop off some of the guilt and shame. I just wasn’t ready for that…not that day.

But it wasn’t over. Later, after lunch, I watched the kids on the playground from the safety of the teachers’ room, waving at some of the kids who noticed me. They responded enthusiastically, which made me feel a little better, but I’d still made that girl cry…just by being me. Then I saw him. The little Pakistani boy who went to that school. The little boy who I’d let beat me in arm wrestling so he could have a moment of glory. The little boy whose brother and sister I taught at my junior high school. He was wandering around the playground by himself, looking for someone to play with, but every time he met a group of people, they would disperse, running from him. Some girls screamed “Get away!” Some boys just looked at him with disgust. I felt my heart shudder for a moment, as I was reminded of a part of my past that I didn’t particularly enjoy. Same situation…playgrounds…people running from me…because I was different. Because they thought I was dangerous, or that…something was wrong with me, I don’t know…but it never…apparently that wound never healed. A while ago, I mentioned that Japan had the power to heal old wounds, but it also has the power to rip them wide open. I suddenly found myself furious at every child on that playground. I found myself wanting to hurt someone…someone I couldn’t identify…I wanted to lash out somewhere…anywhere…. …And then I saw the Pakistani boy playing with some of the kids on the rope bridge. My mind calmed down, but my heart was racing. My eyes were burning from the tears that had almost appeared…

“Debitto-sensei?” said one of the teachers.
“I…y…huh?” I replied, turning around to see three teachers sitting at the small conference table.
“Can…we have a meeting for next time?”
“…Sure. Sure. …Yeah…”

For a while after that, I was keenly aware of fearful eyes and recoiling Japanese people as I wandered the countryside. Yes…a lot of old feelings were coming back. The ones that have held me back for decades…and if I didn’t find some way to beat this…I was going to see a repeat of some very bad times.

…Next up…July.

D