Elementary School
So I have now begun my first trip to elementary school. Whatever amusement you may have imaged would result in me teaching Japanese elementary school kids English falls fall short of the reality. If you also laugh at my pain, then there’s more than enough to keep you laughing for years.
As one might expect, the students were completely fascinated with me. What I didn’t expect was their complete lack of any fear. Junior high kids fear me more than these little ones. I’m like a giant toy that has suddenly come into their midst. From the moment I walked into school, I was surrounded by a sea of children, all trying to grab my arms, or legs, or beard, or ride on my back, or grab my nipples, or shove their fingers into my ass. It was nonstop, and I think I came close to causing a riot simply by my presence.
At this school, not a single person speaks English. There are no English classes, and instead I just go into the students’ homeroom and work with the homeroom teacher and make some poor attempt to get them to understand simple words and phrases. Of course, since no one speaks any English, I get no help. For the first half hour I was at school, I sat in the principal’s office where the vice principal just get jabbering away at me in Japanese. Now, he knew I didn’t understand a word (mainly because I kept telling him) but he would not stop. When I speak to non-English speakers, I try to either throw in as many Japanese words as I know and use gestures, or eventually abandon the pursuit. He was determined, though, to learn me some Japanese. Or something. I don’t know, but he wouldn’t shut up.
Every class I’ve taught so far was, well, a failure. Students of any age couldn’t even retain “Good Afternoon,” so how the heck am I supposed to teach, “Hello, how are you? I’m fine thank you, and you?” It’s just absolutely insane what they expect me to do here. Really, all I did was provide something to poke and prod. Unfortunately, this ended up resulting in pain for me. See, me right hand is currently bandaged up from being hit by a car (long story to be told another day). When seeing the bandage, you’d think the kids would stay away from that hand, right? I mean, it doesn’t matter how old you are, you see a bandage you don’t pull on it, right? Not these kids.
It seems like the bandage was, to them, a giant neon sign that said “Hit me here!” and the kids were just way too happy to comply. One little fucker even had the brilliant idea to swing from that hand and then try to hang from it. Of course, teachers were no help, and I tried to say to the kids “stop, that fuckin’ hurts” but they didn’t understand. Sigh… raising my voice only seems to make them laugh.
However, the pain did lead me to make a new acquaintance. I went to the nurse’s office for some Tylenol or something. The nurse seems to be a nice lady (I have no idea, since her personality is entirely my own invention) and she’s marginally attractive. When she realized what I was asking for, she gave me two pills of questionable origin and pulled out her English phrase book. This phrase book, though, is for doctors, so it didn’t really help conversation much when she would randomly read from it to me.
Now, she keeps staring at me in the office. Every so often, she’ll get up, put her hands behind her back, and do this weird but cute swaying walk thing that she only does when she comes to talk to me. Then, she pulls out the phrase book and starts saying things. At first it was just “Are you in pain?” or “Do you need any help?” or “Would you like something to drink?” but then today she comes over, gives me this sheepish little smile, and says, “Maybe you need to lie down now.”
Yes, maybe I do. This is all just way too weird for me.
As one might expect, the students were completely fascinated with me. What I didn’t expect was their complete lack of any fear. Junior high kids fear me more than these little ones. I’m like a giant toy that has suddenly come into their midst. From the moment I walked into school, I was surrounded by a sea of children, all trying to grab my arms, or legs, or beard, or ride on my back, or grab my nipples, or shove their fingers into my ass. It was nonstop, and I think I came close to causing a riot simply by my presence.
At this school, not a single person speaks English. There are no English classes, and instead I just go into the students’ homeroom and work with the homeroom teacher and make some poor attempt to get them to understand simple words and phrases. Of course, since no one speaks any English, I get no help. For the first half hour I was at school, I sat in the principal’s office where the vice principal just get jabbering away at me in Japanese. Now, he knew I didn’t understand a word (mainly because I kept telling him) but he would not stop. When I speak to non-English speakers, I try to either throw in as many Japanese words as I know and use gestures, or eventually abandon the pursuit. He was determined, though, to learn me some Japanese. Or something. I don’t know, but he wouldn’t shut up.
Every class I’ve taught so far was, well, a failure. Students of any age couldn’t even retain “Good Afternoon,” so how the heck am I supposed to teach, “Hello, how are you? I’m fine thank you, and you?” It’s just absolutely insane what they expect me to do here. Really, all I did was provide something to poke and prod. Unfortunately, this ended up resulting in pain for me. See, me right hand is currently bandaged up from being hit by a car (long story to be told another day). When seeing the bandage, you’d think the kids would stay away from that hand, right? I mean, it doesn’t matter how old you are, you see a bandage you don’t pull on it, right? Not these kids.
It seems like the bandage was, to them, a giant neon sign that said “Hit me here!” and the kids were just way too happy to comply. One little fucker even had the brilliant idea to swing from that hand and then try to hang from it. Of course, teachers were no help, and I tried to say to the kids “stop, that fuckin’ hurts” but they didn’t understand. Sigh… raising my voice only seems to make them laugh.
However, the pain did lead me to make a new acquaintance. I went to the nurse’s office for some Tylenol or something. The nurse seems to be a nice lady (I have no idea, since her personality is entirely my own invention) and she’s marginally attractive. When she realized what I was asking for, she gave me two pills of questionable origin and pulled out her English phrase book. This phrase book, though, is for doctors, so it didn’t really help conversation much when she would randomly read from it to me.
Now, she keeps staring at me in the office. Every so often, she’ll get up, put her hands behind her back, and do this weird but cute swaying walk thing that she only does when she comes to talk to me. Then, she pulls out the phrase book and starts saying things. At first it was just “Are you in pain?” or “Do you need any help?” or “Would you like something to drink?” but then today she comes over, gives me this sheepish little smile, and says, “Maybe you need to lie down now.”
Yes, maybe I do. This is all just way too weird for me.
posted by S A B at 4:18 AM
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