Sept. 14

Yeah, working at a junior high school is amazingly fun, and a huge ego boost to someone who wasn’t popular at all in junior high.

Today was yet another day chock full of introductions. Mrs. Nice Teacher and Mrs. Sick Teacher were as helpful as always. But, man…I had to work with Mr. Unreadable today. I could never tell if I was upsetting him, or what. He said “Introduce yourself for three minutes, and we’ll move on with the class.” No other teacher put a limit on my intro. And, when he opened the class, it seemed more ritualistic than anything. Imagine the following conversation between the teacher and the class, in monotone, and bad Japanese accents. Don’t pause for breath…seriously.

“Good morning everyone, how are you.”

“I am fine thank you how are you.”

“I’m fine thank you what is the day today.”

“It is Wednesday.”

“Yes, and what day is it.”

“It is September 14^th.”

“Yes and how is weather outside.”

“It is rainy.”

Rainy was only half of it. It was COLD and rainy. I hate that. Because, I love rain, but hate the cold, so my body just spins between bliss and discomfort, and ya know what you get with that? …The perfect feeling to complement the next weird moment.

The students listen to an English song everyday, and try to fill in the blanks. Today’s song? Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”. I kid you not. I laughed, because…I hadn’t even heard the song all the way through before, since it was associated with something associated with Leonardo DiCaprio. That’s good reason to shoot your radio every time the song comes on. But, man…my brain almost exploded from the idea of this song actually being educational material.

Eventually, Mr. Unreadable’s class was over, and I went straight to Nice Teacher’s class. She’s great. She makes mistakes, I make mistakes, we all laugh…the class has a blast. But this time, I dodged the girlfriend question! Ha! …Man, they love that question. Even the guys! But…the girls have fallen for me. They giggle when I’m around. They walk up to me, and then run away bashfully. They huddle in groups, walk past the class in which I’m teaching and yell,

“David-san!”

“Yes?”

“WE LUB YOO!”

And run away in shrieks and giggles. It takes ALL of my power to remember that they’re just silly girls. This is because…really, man, I was FAR from popular in junior high, high school…pretty much all my life, and to be the object of even crushes is so unfamiliar, so foreign, so…it just takes a lot to remember that it’s nothing. I’m still just the goofy dork I’ve always been, and no matter what I do, I can’t rewrite my rather unsatisfactory past. I’ll admit that it’s almost like vindication or…something.

In the teacher’s room, the teacher who sits across from me…we’ll call him…the Caffeine Dealer…because he’s always giving me power drinks with caffeine in them. Caffeine dealer saw me studying kanji. I asked him if there were many left handed people in Japan. Nope. And guess what that means? Kanji, like EVERY OTHER LANGUAGE is designed to be written with your right hand. Really. I hate you people. I don’t care if you are 88% of the population. I challenge you all to battle.

Upon hearing I am left handed, Mrs. Nice Teacher exclaims, “Me too! But…in Japan…in older times…we thought…south paws? Yes, South paws, we thought they were bad. So, everyday, my mother would hit my left hand very hard…so…I just learned to write with my right hand.” See? I knew this woman was cool. She’s been teaching as long as I’ve been alive, but really, man…she’s great. I explained a similar situation that resulted in me becoming ambidextrous…ya know…without getting beaten for being left handed. And thus, we bonded.

Lunch was the norm. Rice, some stuff in a bowl, and---oh, this is great. Today was a “select a lunch” day. The choices? Salmon or chicken. BUT, for me…the lunch coordinator chose in advance. And what did she pick? Chicken. One more time, people. Chicken. In fact, everyone at work said, “Yes, we expected you to go for the chicken.”

Time out. Just how far does this stereotype go? Do…do they telegraph these things? I just traveled over 12000 miles, and chicken still runs me down? Guh…but then I remembered. I’m American. And many, many Americans hate the taste of fish. And…my co-workers were just lookin’ out for me. But, shoot, ain’t gonna lie, I stuck with the chicken. I mean…I can get seafood here all the dern time. Chicken…good chicken…is rare. Stereotype…enforced.

Then, the teachers announced that they wanted a welcoming party for me on Sept. 22^nd. Oh, dear lord, here we go. I’m gonna have to get drunk with my teacher friends… And it’s on a Friday. AND they want to pick me up. They…want me to get completely wasted. And for the sake of community, I might have to comply. …Mother, Father, Sister…forgive me. But I know what I must do.

I helped with Mrs. Sick Teacher’s class, and…that was about it. Until three girls cornered me and asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Crap.

Lesson one. Do not lie. Ever. EVER. “No…” I said reluctantly.

“Really?!” “Honto ni?!?”

“Iie…”

“Yeah? You have one?”

“No. Iie. No…I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Giggles and sudden disappearances. These are the hallmarks of the Japanese preteen female. After school time didn’t help either. The coaches asked me to come out and watch the girls basketball team. Even play with them. So, there I was, honestly helping the girls, but…further ensnaring their poor little hearts. But, shoot, those girls got some dribbling skills. I taught a few of them some things, but they were actually really good. Problem was…no self confidence. These girls could take on ANY of the guys, but…any time they’re faced with an opponent, they crumble. And I can’t change that. That’s Japanese women. Frighteningly submissive. Darn me and my love of stubborn women.

But hey, I was still having fun…until I got a little announcement.

“David, we would like you to say a few words at assembly tomorrow,” said Mrs. Sick Teacher. …Then she asked me to teach her how to say “Please Slam Dunk” in English. …They’re gonna ask me to dunk tomorrow. Punks. PUNKS.

…Well, here we go.

D