Junior High fucking sucked. I hardly knew anyone, I was intensely uncool, girls didn't like me, at lunch I sat across from a guy who licked all of his french fries to deter would-be swindlers, and I got my worst grade ever - a D+ in 9th grade physics. I also distinctly recall the less-than-attentive behavior of students (myself included) during class. So the prospect of willingly returning to a Junior High School to try to teach said students didn't exactly make me jump for joy. But I'd already signed a contract in wasabi-addled blood, so what choice did I have?

Nakajima Junior High School. My new school. Several weeks prior to my first day, I met some Japanese teachers of English at a Sapporo Board of Education party. None were from Nakajima, but they all knew about it. The most memorable remark: "Have you ever watched Boston Public on FOX? Nakajima is kind of like that." I was borderline-schlitzed at the time, which was probably the only reason I didn't flee Japan on the spot. After mulling over that remark for a week or so, I wasn't so worried. This is Japan. I'm not going to get shot. At worst I'll have an innapropriate relationship with a female student, and that has a major upside.

August 27 was my first day. I managed to drag myself out of bed at 6:30 - yes, I know, that's not terribly early, but this is coming from The Guy Who Was Almost Entirely Noctural For a Year, so bear with me - without making my mom fly over to pour a glass of water on my head (yes, this actually happened, and she was well within her rights in doing so). I Arrived at school around 8:00, met the staff, gave a very lame self-introduction in Japanese, and chatted with Nakajima's lone English teacher, Mr. Toshiyuki Abe. He kicks ass.

Abe-sensei and I taught four classes that day. Each began with my very lame self-introduction, of which the highlight was the discussion of the different driving (16, 18), smoking (16, 20), and drinking (21, 20) ages in America and Japan. (I didn't think age of consent would be appropriate - not that talking about smoking and drinking was exactly appropriate, either.) I concluded the self-intro with a Q&A. The first two classes had exactly zero questions. However, by the third and fourth classes, word of the nutty gaijin (foreigner) had apparently spread like wildfire. I'm sure there was a dossier on me floating around somewhere. The kids all knew my name, where I was from, my hobbies, and so on.

They were also far more enthusiastic in the Q&A session. Particularly the four girls sitting in the back of one of my san-nensei (third-year, equivalent to 9th grade) classes. They played junken (rock paper scissors) and the loser had to ask me a question. Their line of questioning:

"Are you married?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Do you like Japanese girls?"
"Do you like me?"

Whoa. Not wanting to hurt feelings (or burn bridges - hee hee), I waffled heavily on the last two questions. Weirder still, today one of those girls gave me this sandwich-thing at lunch and said "I made this for you." It had what looked like whipped cream in it. Yeah. Needless to say, I absconded as soon as possible. Without trying the sandwich.

In spite of a wicked hangover, today I played the zany role of Brian-sensei (before you ask, the kids just call me Brian) for the 8th time. Class is pretty fun. As a native speaker of English, my primary role is to - that's right - speak English! Abe-sensei and I do lots of corny-ass dialogs to illustrate the use of the day's new expression(s). For instance...

[Demonstrating the use of "Would you like...?"]
Act I, Scene I - Brian Eats Dinner at Mr. Abe's House
[Brian is currently eating a piece of chicken.]
Abe: Would you like some more chicken, Brian?
Brian: Yes, please! It's delicious!
Abe: Would you like something to drink?
Brian: May I have some milk?
Abe: Of course! Would you like some more cake?
Brian: No thanks, I've had plenty!

In addition to my hokey theater roles, I read the textbook aloud, I read things on the board aloud, I read any English I see aloud; at this point it's compulsive. I also ask the students questions and attempt to get an English response out of them. At the beginning of classes I ask the entire class "How are you?" Hearing 40 students simultaneously reply "I'm fine thanks, and you?" was a bit disturbing at first. ONE OF US. ONE OF US. (Many thanks to Amy for reminding me of this phrase today.)

Class has also had its awkward moments. My san-nensei kids are currently reading a story about the bombing of Hiroshima. I'm not Harry Truman, but it still makes me feel like a crappy person.

Stereotypes usually seem to have some basis in fact. The stereotype of Japanese schoolchildren as perfect little obedient disciplined respectful quiet angels with infinitely expandable sponge-brains is an exception to this rule. At any given time, I'd say 1/5 of the kids in my classes are talking or sleeping. On top of that, a few of my ni-nensei (second-year = 8th grade) are positively nuts. Last Monday, one got up in the middle of class, walked to the broom closet, grabbed a broom, left the room and proceeded to walk up and down the hallway, periodically whacking the wall. On Wednesday the same kid was halfway out the window of the third-floor classroom before Abe-sensei said anything. In almost any American school, I think said kid would be promptly sent to the principal. Not so in Japan. I'm not entirely sure why, but one friend said it's because that would be denying the kid access to education. That is, the kid apparently has a divine right to be in the classroom, even if education is the farthest thing from his mind. As with any culture, some things just don't make much sense to an outsider.

On the upside, most of the kids are great. They say hello and/or giggle and yell my name when I walk by. They want me to eat lunch with them. They ask me questions about things I like. They try to speak to me in Japanese and I feel like a dumbass when I don't understand. They ask me to play ping-pong with them, then kick my ass. One even taught me how to make these sweetass origami shuriken (throwing stars, you know, ninja shit):

This inspired me to buy some origami paper and make the crane on the right, who I affectionately refer to as "Sucky". It took me at least an hour to make it. My craft skills are lacking, but I lay some of the blame on these instructions and their constant references to arbitrary "flaps".

So yeah. School is mostly good. Hardly Sapporo Public. And I can always find an underage girl somewhere else.

bravo. (clap, clap, clap). i wanna try!

that was hilarious story telling. i loved how the author represented his need for american normalcy by portraying his insanity on some crazy japanese kid whacking walls. Definitely, a sign that the author feels trapped by japanese culture and his only way out is to use american brutality.

Brian. It's hardly patriotic of you to be embarrased by American policy, is it? Well, I know we dropped the big one on Hiroshima, but hey, it surely was in everyone's {America's} best interests, right? Don't you love our country?
Hmm.
Hey- nice shuriken, baby, if you know what I mean. Heh heh heh.

Great site, Brian, and what an awesome story! Definately got a talent for telling funny stories. But hey, you're a nutty bassoonist, so I'm not really suprise!

Remember me? Your mom told me to check out your web site. You are an amazing story teller. Sounds like you're having an great experience.