Sept 15
The Japanese apparently have a few customs when it comes to new teachers. The first is a welcoming ceremony, which I had the joy of experiencing today. They walked me into the gym through a archway of flowers (which the students had to hold extra high for me), and then guided me to the stage, where the principal gave a speech regarding my arrival. Then, students spoke in English. They’re good, man…I gotta hand it to them. But then came the part I was the most concerned about…my speech. I started in English, and then eventually slipped over to Japanese. But…the most awkward thing about speaking in front of Japanese folks is that…well…they never applaud. So it’s really tough to tell when what you’ve said has landed flat. But hey, after the speech was done, Mrs. Sick Teacher tells me I did an excellent job, so…I guess I’m in the clear.
The second custom is the Welcoming Party. If you didn’t know, the Japanese aren’t really hard workers, merely masters of looking busy. They always seem to be moving, which explains how they stay so small and wiry. But…if you study them they’re rarely actually doing anything of any real importance. But for the sake of this paragraph, we’ll say they work very hard. Oh, man…thems some hard workers. Yup. I mean…they make my American work ethic look like total garbage. Sho nuff. So, to balance how hard they work, these people have to play hard as well, meaning, they will go out drinking together and get WRECKED, and then all come in the next day and understand each other’s hangover. It’s okay to go out and drink as long as everyone else is there with you, so that you can suffer together the next day. I mean, come on, when part of Japanese lessons includes conversations regarding hangovers…you KNOW that country loves some liquor. As always, I digress.
The Welcoming Party is an example of such hard playing. Today, The Secretary asked me, “David…do you have any plans for Friday the 22nd?”
“Umm…no.” She asked so softly that it was hard to respond without sounding like a total brute.
“We would like to have your welcoming party that night. Can you make it?”
At the time, I didn’t know what a welcoming party was. “Party? For…me?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Oooooo…kay?”
“Good.”
“I’ll pick you up at 6:30,” said Booze Master with a huge grin on his face. And then I realized the spectacular set up here. It’s a Friday, so there’s no work the next day. They’re picking me up so I don’t have to drive myself home. …These people want me to get HAMMERED. Considering that I don’t really drink, I will either love this evening, or regret it forever…
But today, we had FIRE TRAINING. Originally, they told me it was earthquake training, and my look of worry got a few chuckles from the staff. Later on in the day, they told me it was actually a fire drill. Oh…and by the way, even in fire drills, they worry about their shoes. I’m thinking that the best way to take over this country is to steal everyone’s outdoor shoes. They’d be too scared to walk outside.
But this was more than just a fire drill. A bunch of firemen came along in a big (for
All the kids came running out during this Japanese Fire Drill—someone please make a joke for that—and squatted down in neat little rows according to grade. I had never understood how they could be comfortable sitting like that, until Matt revealed something very important to me:
“People are most comfortable in the position in which they poop.”
The boy’s a genius.
As the kids squatted, the firemen had speeches, which were apparently funny, because the principal was laughing pretty hard. But, once all those were done, the students cleared an area in the center, and the firemen began to teach how to use the fire extinguishers. These were just water ones, though. Every sensei did it, but suddenly…I saw the teachers eyeing me devilishly. Next thing I knew, the kids were chanting, “Deibido-sensei! Deibido-sensei!” With a reluctant hanging of my head, I marched out with the other sensei, and grabbed hold of a fire extinguisher.
“I didn’t understand the instructions!” I said to Mrs. Sick Teacher.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Just pull the pin, lift the nozzle, yell ‘Kaji da!’ and fire.”
“Right…”
So, that’s what I did. On three, I yelled “Kaji da!!!”, pulled the pin, lifted the nozzle and sprayed. …But apparently Japanese fire extinguishers ain’t made for big black men, because I totally ripped the chain that held the pin right off the extinguisher. The firemen laughed, but said it was okay. The students were overjoyed, and laughed and cheered. Then some of the teachers got to fight real fire. Now that was entertaining. I got a really nice shot of Caffeine Dealer battling a huge flame. He seemed very happy with the picture.
In other news, today, the Shy Music Teacher got up the gumption to actually say “Good morning” to me as she handed me a cup of coffee. I just smiled and said “Good morning!” back, and she totally shyed away. It made me laugh…on the inside, of course.
Later on in the day, however, as I made my way to the basketball court, The Secretary walks up to me and says, “David, I hear you like to play music instruments.”
“Whoa…” I said. “I like to learn them. I’m not good at any of them, really.”
“Ah,” she said. “Well, we have the brass music club after school. You should come see us.”
I just nodded. I knew I really wanted to be there, but…the basketball team had laid claim on my time for the day. But halfway through practice, after letting the basketball coach win back his honor in a freethrow contest, I decided, “Hey, why not?”
I wandered up the stairs toward the music I heard, and peeked in the door. It seems I can’t go anywhere secretly, because the moment I looked in, one kid gasped and pointed, and thus the domino effect began. Row by row, the students turned around to look at me and wave. Eventually…Shy Music Teacher noticed that half the instruments weren’t playing and turned around to see what the problem was, only to find me frantically making any hand gestures I could to tell the kids to keep playing. But, I was stuck.
“Umm…hi?” I said, and the class laughed. Shy Music Teacher could only nod and smile. Then she nervously gestured for me to please step into the classroom. I complied, ducking to enter, drawing more laughter, and stood next to a girl who was playing the xylophone. She completely froze in giggles.
“Teach me, please,” I said, in Japanese, and the whole class giggled. The girl gave me the mallets for the xylophone, and after asking which “key” was C, I graced them with a moving rendition of Chopsticks…which…until now, I didn’t realize just how hilarious and appropriate that was. Then for fun, I broke into Carol of the Bells.
“Joozu!” yelled the kids, meaning “Skilled!” which…is proof that they say this no matter what you do.
I continued to goof around, and the Shy Music Teacher walked up. “Do…you…like music?”
“Very much!” I said with a goofy smile. She seemed very happy to have found that common ground with me. I think I’ll swing by more often. It’s fun! And the kids even let me goof off with tympany! Ya’ll don’t even know how much I love tympanis. If I had a blue room, where I could watch thunderstorms, play tympanis, enjoy plates of grilled cheese, scrambled eggs, toast, pancakes, biscuits and southern gravy, sip orange juice, and listen to music involving ascending scales…that would be my room of total perfection. I doubt I’d ever leave. Crap, now I miss grilled cheese.
Afterwards, as I stepped out of the music room with the Music Teacher, a little girl’s voice rang in my ears.
“Deibido-sensei!”
I turned around to see a girl with a large beetle on her index finger, of a variety that only comes in plastic or rubber form in the States.
“Ooooooh…” I said, and started to move my finger toward it, but another girl promptly stopped me, and pantomimed a pinching motion, and a face of anguish. Well, I must say, I understood that. I found it funny, though, that I’d even move toward a bug. In
After that, I was happy, homeward bound and—noticed a call from Matt on my cellphone.
“Yo, I talked to the teachers. You’re totally in the clear. They actually might want to invite you back, because they feel bad for turning you away.”
The kid can’t lose. Really.
D
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