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