Last Night, Gah

At 4 am, drunk, sick, and passed out on my futon, I received this text message from a local girl I know:

"today...is Thank you (:arrow up::arrow up:)
Good night (star:::star:::star)"


Nah, I mean. This is how March ends?

Birthday Recap

Call from Mom. Lunch with Gabe, Usagi. Dinner with Dayna, the Zoo (see: Chin Chin Ookii?) Drinks, Bar One. Thrashing at Southern Karaoke. Gabe's family in town for the week. Joined us at One and karaoke. Sophisticated and thoughtful individuals--off to Shikoku today. Fascinated with Japan.

Ali came. So did the happiest, sweetest girls in Sumoto. Invited her the day before. She's a calligrapher. Made me a piece. Basho poem. Said I have a charming smile. Best birthday present. Close friends with Seuin nurse who, I'm pretty sure, hates me. Surprise! What words she's hissed in my honor? Number of people who hate me rising. Several continents now. Long ways to go yet.

Half my school's staff at Southern Karaoke. Going away party, Daresore Sensei. Accidental meeting. More surprises. No invitation. Shake hands and say hello and say goodbye.

Couldn't sleep. Thinking too much, always thinking. Ai's online. We chat a minute.

Twenty-four now. Another day, another year. I have good friends, some here, others elsewhere. Miss them. Cherry blossoms are coming. Spring is rebirth, regeneration. Nice weather lasts two weeks. Everything worthwhile is brief--momentary respites from the habitual and expected. Learning to love that.

Masui and Nishioka Families

Occasionally, Japanese families invite me to their homes for a meal and discussion. Last week Masui Sensei, Seiun's PE teacher, welcomed me, and approximately a month ago, I joined Dayna on a trip to the Nishioka Family, who have practically adopted her. Both experiences were very enjoyable.

The Nishioka live in the center of Awaji, in a luxurious house buried in the deep inaka. The husband works with vitamins. The wife runs a juku after school for cram sessions; she speaks perfect English. Right now they have a daughter living in Montreal and a daughter who just married. The grandparents live with them. They seem like nice old people. Most of the time they lounge in the back room, watching TV and snacking. Dayna, Ali, and I had come to view their hinamatsuri dolls

http://s34.photobucket.com/albums/d150/patman200244/Hinamatsuri/

and we weren't leaving till we got our fill. Dolls and delicious sushi rice. It was a day to tell our grandchildren. The Nishioka chatted with us for several hours. For some reason we started talking about camping and how you should always hang your food up in a tree so bears stay away from the camp. Ali informed us that you're not supposed to have sex either because the smell will attract the bears. I said you could always hang the girl up in a tree just to be safe.

Before leaving, Mr. Nishioka told me that he would plant rice in the spring and I could help him if I wanted. Of course I did. So pretty soon I'll be planting rice at the crack of dawn. Can't wait.

Last Tuesday, Mr. Masui approached me about coming to his house for dinner. We hadn't talked much before the spring enkai two weeks ago. On that night we'd been seated next to each other and drank and spoke all night. My Japanese is still insufficient, but Mr. Masui knows a little English. Together we were able to make something of a coherent conversation. Plus, he is a very kind man. Plus-plus, he had a lot to drink, and his condition placed any apprehensions on hold for a bit. Up to that point, I really didn't know much about him. He always seemed like a friendly guy, but we never got to know each other. After several glasses of beer, he said we'd have dinner together at his home.

Fast forward one week and I'm rolling into his driveway on my mamachari. Mr. Uematsu also came along, which I wasn't aware of until I received a phone call from him moments before I arrived. The three of us, Masui, Uematsu, and I, gorged on Oden, macaroni salad, fried shrimp, and more as Mrs. Masui scurried back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. In the three hours I was there, she sat down with us for about twenty minutes. Uematsu was as kind as ever. And Masui was fantastically funny and welcoming. At one point his son came into the room. I teach his son at Seiun. He is a first year student who doesn't much like English, so we made him speak English. He was a little too pious with me. I was just trying to kid around with him when I said we'll have fun in second year, but he bowed sincerely at this, his forehead nearly touching the tatami. Later, Masui's daughter came home. She is a shogakko student. She was a pleasant girl and said a few words in English before laughing and turning away shyly.

I was treated to endless Chu-hi, a great thing. I didn't even realize how much I drank until I took inventory. Maybe 3 or 4 tall boys on my own. Luckily, I didn't make a fool of myself. At least, I don't think I did. We watched the Red Sox game on TV; they were playing in Tokyo. Everyone rooted for Matsuzaka. In contrast to my visit to the Nishioka's, there was much less English this time. It was good for me because I could stretch my Japanese, and both men know enough English to explain when I say something wrong. Mrs. Masui, though, is skilled in English. She studied English literature in the university. We didn't speak as much as I would have liked. But next time we can analyze the significance of post-modernism on the evolution of the novel. Or not.

Mr. Masui will be leaving Seiun in April. Him and nine other teachers are transferring. As I mentioned in a previous post, teachers are required to move between schools. Eight years is usually the limit for staying at one school. Sometimes they leave sooner. It's a shame because Mr. Masui is a good man. But I'm sure I'll see him around Sumoto. He's moving to a school about two or three miles from Seiun.

It was great spending time with the Masui and Nishioka Families. Plenty of cross-cultural exchange. And it gave me a chance to see more of what goes on inside the Japanese household. I'm fortunate that this is not a new thing for me. You can never really understand anyone unless you get to know them fully and see beyond their everyday, mundane self. I suppose it's easy for some foreigners, by limiting their perspectives and not bothering to appreciate differences in cultural, to assume the worst about Japanese lifestyles and work habits. Moreover, some foreigners might have been offended or troubled by the way Mrs. Masui worked tirelessly in the kitchen while the three men enjoyed the food and drink. They maybe see this as an inherent problem with Japanese society. Such people are applying their indoctrination to a culture that's completely different. They wouldn't begin to understand if I told them Mrs. Masui was happy cooking for us and occasionally participating in the conversation. They'd probably blame her happiness on her subjugation by a male dominated society. But come on now, what do these people actually know? Nothing. They're too busy trying to make everyone and everything fit their ideals. They can't accept it if it's not what they want it to be. Selfish. And they'll live the rest of their lives pissed off and blind.

I said goodbye to the Masui Family around 9:30 and scooted over to Ryan's apartment, which was the next building. Gabe and Will were there too. We watched Ryan play a samurai video game and passed the time together. All three of them will be leaving Awaji in August.

On the way home I popped both my tires. After reading my above comments, this fact may have pleased a few of you.

Osaka Again

I'm pretty depressed now, perfect time to update the old blog. I always feel a bit shitty after a weekend in Osaka--the massive intake of alcohol doesn't help. Friday night after work I hopped a bus for Maiko exit, which is just over the bridge, where I boarded a train bound for Osaka. Before that, I ran into Chris on the bus. He was off to find his own trouble in Kobe. We talked about the Red Sox, since Chris is a Boston native, and briefly about the Super Bowl; both of us agreed New York sucks. So we parted ways at Maiko and I boarded my train alone. At the same time, Dayna was on a bus for Osaka, seated behind an annoying old lady who asked every five minutes before reclining her seat half an inch. The two of us would meet at Namba Station.

Gaijin have it good on the trains because many Japanese people won't sit next to us, unless the cart is ridiculously crowded, so I was surprised when I noticed someone settling down in the spot beside me. All my preconceptions about gaijin train travel were almost shattered until I looked up and noticed the man was also a gaijin. In fact, he said, "I guess I'll sit next to the other gaijin since no one else is going to." He was a good-looking, middle-aged black man who had much to say. He was exceedingly friendly. Currently he is riding an incredible wave of success. He's of Jamaican decent and has lived in Japan for 7 years, but will be leaving for America soon. What was on his mind? Well, what's on every man's mind, right? Sex. He declared that he's slept with 60 Japanese women during his time here. I did the math. That's about one new woman every month and a half. I know guys who sleep with more, but this man's exploits qualified him as a successful womanizer. What's more, he wrote about them, and his new book on the subject will be published this year. That's why I'm sure he wouldn't mind me describing our encounter with such openness. The way he described the book was intriguing: "an erotic ethnographic memoir [that] explores in easy lay person’s terms the socio-psychosexual dynamics of Japan and the erotic capital of the Western male, Black and White." I know I'll read it, and you'd probably want to read it too. After all, sex sells. The title of the book is Black Passenger, Yellow Cab. Hmm, maybe a metaphor?

We passed his exit, but he stayed on to chat until reaching Osaka. We exchanged keitai info and said goodbye. He was a very nice fellow and I hope I can meet him before he leaves in May with his new Japanese wife.

Osaka is an easy city to get lost in. Above ground is chaotic enough, but underground is a maze. On top of that, the mass of hustling, bumping bodies can further disorient any person. I lost my way four times just trying to get from the JR exit to the Midosuji subway line. By the time I found Midosuji, I was exhausted, and the night hadn't even begun. In Namba I found Dayna. This was my fifth time in the area, her first. Many of the things that lost their novelty to me were wowing Dayna as we walked the busy sidewalks to Shinsaibashi.

Here's an analogy: sometimes you see "For a good time call ###" scratched into bathroom walls. Well, this would be appropriate too: "For a good time, go to Shinsaibashi." The experience is exciting and a little scary, and you almost always feel dirty afterward, but it's a good time. Shinsaibashi houses America Town, home of Triangle Park and tons of J-Reggae shops. It's also a Mecca for gaijin. Dayna and I met Will, Tomomi, and Tomomi's friend there, then checked in at the capsule hotel, then bought a drink at Mad Kafe.

From there, we hiked to Club Jam. None of us had been to the club before, but a very sweet girl I'd met at a party a week earlier was bartending there and she'd put our names on the guest list. The place was jumping. Hip-hop rained from the speakers. Not my kind of music, but the atmosphere was incredible. There was a special event that night. Dance teams took turns twirling about. Most of them looked like they'd stolen a choreographer from Backstreet Boys or N'Sync. Others were more original. The girl I knew kept given me free tequila--shots and mixes--while I watched the show. She said I was "tsuyoi." I said she'd never seen me with a bottle of vodka, some spaghetti, and hair clippers (inside joke).

Will and Tomomi left early, and Dayna and I soon followed. I stumbled the path back to the capsule, but Dayna was the picture of sobriety, even though she kept saying she was drunk. What I love about Osaka is that I can walk through dark alleys completely drunk and not have to fear muggings. Not so many major cities in this world can promise that.

The capsule. Brutal. Ten a.m. checkout time, noisy salary men, and uncomfortable beds/holes. At least I saved a buck.

I lurched back into the street, wincing under the sunlight, and found Dayna taking pictures of a vending machine. There're only five vending machines every ten feet in Japan, so I guess she wanted to capture the moment. We hung out for most of the day, exploring the Shinsaibashi/Namba area. Around noon we met a JET I know from Fukui. She was in town for the sumo tournament. She was with a friend who looked vaguely familiar. I greeted the friend and she said we'd met in Tokyo but I probably forgot. She didn't seem so friendly. Jen, my JET friend, invited us to sumo, but wasn't interested. We ate lunch together at El Torito. Finally, some Mexican food.

Afterward, Dayna and I meandered around the city, playing some arcades and visiting a shrine near the Gliko Man. My phone died, so I was using Dayna's to ask Ryan about a show that night and to email my bartender friend, who'd been at work until 8 a.m. Speaking of my phone, I made a great discovery. In convenience stores you can buy cell phone battery chargers. Incredible! I'd never seen anything like that in America. Of course, this was about 5 p.m. and I'd already spent the entire day draining Dayna's battery.

Dayna caught the bus at 7 and I went back to Triangle Park to meet my bartender friend to have dinner with her. She was fashionably late, but I had a chance to enjoy the strange sights of America Town: big hair, weird clothes, luxury cars, and swarms of gaijin. Now, my bartender friend doesn't speak English, so this was going to be a real challenge for both of us. We strolled around looking for a place to eat and tried to carry a conversation. For the most part, we did quite well. She probably spoke to me like I was a two-year old and that's probably what I sounded like when I spoke, but we understood each other. We settled on a dump restaurant that served terrible Chinese food, and I worked my way through the little Japanese I could remember in about 20 minutes, then went on repeat mode. She had a few minutes before she started work again, so she stuck around with me. She looked bored and disappointed, and I don't blame her. I know people in America who would puke at the idea of spending more than 30 minutes with a person who doesn't speak English well. The fact that she spent 3 hours with me is a testament to her kindness and patience. It was a great chance for me to push my abilities. Sadly, I fear she won't want to meet again.

Shortly thereafter, she started work and I met Ryan and Ali. That night a major German DJ was playing at Club Clapper. The show was pretty good, but I was drained. I was having trouble standing up. For a while, I considered a trip back to Club Jam, but I was in no fit shape for tequila shots. The show ended at 5 a.m., and I returned to the capsule for five torturous hours of sleep.

The next day Ryan, Ali, Tomomi, and I ventured to the sky building. It was peaceful on the top, and the view was awesome. At two in the afternoon, I lost all power. Somehow my legs kept moving, but my mind was shut off. All I could think was bus-home-sleep.

Now here I am, at work, writing for all my friends about a weekend in Osaka that could be described as great or awful, depending on how you look at it, and wondering what next week will bring as I travel to Kyushu (below Honshu) with Robbie. I’ll leave you with a slice of philosophy:

EACH SELF IS A UNIVERSE INCOMPLETE. Every experience is perceived differently. No moment is the same for any two selves; there are influences--the food we eat, the people we see, the weather we feel, the past we remember--infinite in number, endless and immense and unique, that alter experience. To ignore or undermine the importance of one universe is to blind yourself to every universe but your own. But universes share. Brief moments of understanding and appreciation that unlock hidden qualities of the self. And the blind gain nothing from this. They will never see the boundlessness within.

Scripted Humor

Last week I wrote scripts from my 2-nen sei students. Below are the scripts. What do you think?

SCRIPT 1 (In Jusco)

Person 1: Well, we are in Jusco.

Person 2: That’s right!

Person 3: Let’s eat McDonald’s.

Person 1: I’m very hungry now.

Person 4: Me too.

Person 5: Let’s play the taiko game first!

Person 3: OK!

Person 2: Now we are playing taiko.

Person 1: I like playing taiko.

Person 4: You’re so crazy.

Person 5: No, you’re crazy.

Person 2: We’re all crazy!

Person 3: We’re crazy people!

Person 4: This is my favorite game.

Person 1: It is the most popular game.

Person 2: I want a banana.

Person 3: What?



SCRIPT 2 (At Seiun)

Person 1: What is your favorite subject?

Person 2: I like English the best.

Person 3: You think Mr. Pat is handsome, right?

Person 2: Of course!

Person 4: What are they talking about?

Person 5: They are talking about handsome Pat.

Person 4: Yes, he’s so cool. I want his picture.

Person 1: I have his picture. I will give you a copy.

Person 4: Thank you so much!

Person 5: Hold on, I want one too.

Person 3: How much do they cost?

Person 1: 5,000 yen.

Person 2: Give me 10 please.

Person 2: Oh, dear. It’s time for English class.

Person 5: I am happy now!



SCRIPT 3 (At the Beach)

Person 1: Why are we at the beach?

Person 2: Because the beach is beautiful.

Person 3: But it’s February now!

Person 4: Yes, I’m so cold.

Person 5: February is the coldest month in Sumoto.

Person 6: I like summer more than winter.

Person 5: Me too.

Person 2: Let’s swim!

Person 4: Are you crazy?

Person 2: Yes.

Person 3: Who are you?

Person 2: I don’t know.

Person 1: I can’t swim. I’m sad.

Person 6: I’m going home because it’s 11:15 at night.

Person 3: I will go to juku now.

Person 4: I will go to Family Mart to read anime.

Person 2: I will go swimming.

Person 5: Goodbye, crazy!



SCRIPT 4 (At the Library)

Person 1: What book will you read?

Person 2: I don’t know yet.

Person 3: I want a good book.

Person 1: Are there good books here?

Person 3: Yes! This is the best library in Sumoto.

Person 4: What’s better, this library or Jusco?

Person 5: Jusco is better than this library.

Person 4: Why?

Person 5: Because it’s bigger.

Person 2: But this library has many books.

Person 3: There is McDonald’s in Jusco.

Person 1: And the taiko game.

Person 5: I like meeting friends there.

Person 4: We’re happy people!

Person 2: Yes, you’re right.



SCRIPT 5 (In America)

Person 1: I love America. It’s so much fun.

Person 2: Tomorrow let’s go to Disneyland.

Person 3: I want to touch Mickey Mouse.

Person 4: Yesterday was good.

Person 5: What did we do yesterday?

Person 4: We visited an American junior high school, right?

Person 3: American students are strange.

Person 2: They don’t say hello to us.

Person 1: And they smell funny.

Person 5: Japanese junior high schools are better than American junior high school.

Person 4: Yes.

Person 3: Oh well. We’ll see San Francisco in two days.

Person 2: I’m happy!

Person 3: What’s in San Francisco?

Person 1: The Golden Gate Bridge is in San Francisco.

Person 5: And crazy people.

Person 4: We’re crazy, too.



SCRIPT 6 (At the Shoe Store)

Person 1: I want new shoes.

Person 2: But new shoes are expensive.

Person 1: I know. Today I have money.

Person 3: May I help you?

Person 1: New shoes, please.

Person 3: Certainly.

Person 4: Will you take off your shoes?

Person 2: Who are you?

Person 5: He is famous.

Person 4: Yes, I am famous. I want to buy your old shoes.

Person 6: Sir, we have new shoes. Why do you want old shoes?

Person 4: Because they smell better.

Person 6: You’re a little crazy, right?

Person 3: Shhhhhhhhhh. He is famous.

Person 4: I also want a banana.

Person 1: Bananas are better than apples.

Person 2: That’s right. I eat bananas everyday.

Person 5: Please give me one.

Person 6: No. Give the famous man a banana.

An Awaji Haunting

As promised, I'll now write about the spooky, haunted, abandoned war memorial that Ryan, Gabe, Alex, and I visited a few weekends ago. The place is called Wakodo No Hiroba (Memorial to Fallen Students) and it would be a wicked site for a concert.

Alex sparked our interest the night before, telling us that some Awajians(?) refuse to speak about the place, let alone visit it. We had to go. The drive took about 45 minutes through quiet, rural towns in Minamiawaji, where several disgruntled JETs reside. The weather was incredible, so pleasant that we drove with the windows down. We saw a group of ridiculous-looking young men with gigantic strawberry hair and tight leather pants and shook our heads in disgust. I had to hold Gabe back before he shouted obscenities at them. He has a good solution for adjusting those guys' view on fashion, and maybe someday I'll share his method with you. All I'll say is that it involves baseball bats.

The memorial is on the top of a mountain, and Alex's car struggled up the road, nearly overheating before reaching the parking lot. This memorial was built to honor the young Japanese soldiers who died during World War II. Now no one goes there. It is an impressive place nonetheless, with an enormous monument that resembles the tip of a pencil, since the soldiers would have been students had they not been fighting. There are two buildings. One is supposed to be a museum of sorts, I think, and the other is an education center. Both are gutted and dilapidated. Alex said that after the Kobe Earthquake, the buildings were damaged beyond repair, and the powers that be decided it best to condemn the grounds. The only guests these days are hoodlums who tag the walls and smash the windows, squatters, security system employees, and curious gaijin.





We scouted the entire place, enjoyed the magnificent view of Shikoku, and walked silently through the empty corridors and darkened rooms. One room was so foreboding and dark that none of us would go in. Had this been at night, we may very well have wet our pants. Most of the displays were empty, the items returned or stolen. Only one glass case had any contents remaining. It was an aged newspaper article about kamikaze pilots.



The second building was perhaps scarier. There were long hallways with doors that opened (sometimes) into dorm-like dwellings. Here the students had stayed while partaking in multi-day study sessions about the War. The only things in these rooms now are the occasional porno magazine and glass shards.



Unfortunately, it wasn’t as scary as I’d hoped. That’s why we’re going back at night with torches and diapers. Before returning home, we stopped by the harbor and ate fresh squid. Mm-mm. The pencil-like monument is visible from the harbor, a constant reminder to residents of what they’ve chosen to abandon.

To see the complete photo album, go to this link: http://s34.photobucket.com/albums/d150/patman200244/Abandoned%20memorial/

My Haiku

A few years back I wrote an award-winning haiku. It was runner-up at my college's yearly spring haiku contest. I'll share with you now. Enjoy.

Turtle upside down,
Roasting in the summer sun.
Just waxed his tan line.

Unrelated to JET, but Worth a Laugh

I installed a program on my blog that records how guests find my page (i.e. search engine entries). Well, some of the referers are hilarious. My favorite so far is this person's Google search: "japanesee hardsex man pictures." That user was from Turkey. I don't know what he or she expected when clicking on my blog, but whoever you are, God bless you. You made my lunch break. I just love that my blog has impeded the internet's main purpose of supplying porn to the masses, if just for a moment.

And a single tear rolled down my cheek. Ha!

The JET Experience

I realize some of my readers are interested in what JET is like, and up until now I've mainly focused on my daily life outside of school. I've done this for a few reasons. One, I assumed (probably wrongly) that it would make for a more interesting read. Two, I didn't want to risk offending anyone. Some of my co-workers read my blog, and though I'm relatively happy with my position--I re-contracted after all--there are some days I feel a bit down, which affects my view on the job. I wouldn't want to write something negative, then regret it later after my co-workers have read it. Also on the subject of offense, things I see as acceptable may be offensive to people around me. For proof of that, read other blogs. Last, the daily life is arguably the most substantial element in the JET experience. True, I'm at school eight hours a day, five days a week, but when I step into the big, scary world that's when a whole new story begins. The things I do and the people I meet outside of school have huge influences on my overall experience and, in their way, complete JET. That's why the hackneyed slogan "Every situation is different" is so suitable.

Regardless, I will spill the beans on the routine of my job a bit more so that prospective JETs can get a taste of life in a Japanese junior high school.

After hitting the snooze on my alarm clock three or five times, I finally push myself off the futon, which provides minimal comfort, and stumble blindly for the shower. Work doesn't begin until 8:20, so I can take relax a bit. On occasion I watch the news, but not very often since I can't follow it. I have cereal and toast every morning. Toast in Japan comes in varying thickness. The most common is probably the 4-6 slices per loaf version, maybe twice as thick as an American-sized slice. I still haven't gotten over that. I fold up my futon and head out. Recently the weather's been cold, so I had to wear two sweaters and a jacket along with gloves and a beanie.

The bike ride takes about 10 minutes. Along the way I see my students, always the same batch of 1st-years. They say, "Good morning, how are you?"

"Fine, thank," I say. "And you?"

"I'm fine, too. Sit down!" they say, mimicking the conclusion to my greetings in class.

Half of my ride is on the street, where sidewalks are rare and danger abundant, but the other half is spent on a peaceful bike path the runs parallel to a putrid river. In warmer seasons, I see schools of fish pecking at the surface with frantic kisses.

I park my bike. I have to lean it against three other bikes because the wind often time knocks it over. About 8 or 10 times I've finished work and found my bike toppled on the cement like a slain animal. It takes a toll. Now my handlebars are a bit off-center.

I swap my outdoor shoes for indoor shoes then walk to the second floor where the staff room is. Along the way, I say Good morning or Ohayougozaimasu to everyone I see. The staff room is an orchestra of Ohayougozaimasu. Women clarinets. A deep tuba bellow from Mr. Hataraka.

Every morning there's a staff meeting. I understand about 5%, so I normally busy myself with studying Japanese. As I do that, the Kyoutou Sensei (Vice-Principal), who runs the meetings and, as far as I can tell, is a real work horse, carries on about changes in the schedule. They change constantly. I remember in my middle school, there were almost no changes. Quite a difference. The problem for me is that I don't know what the changes are. They don't affect me most of the time, but there are days when my classes have been canceled or moved. In such an event, it's my responsibility to ask. Very rarely will someone tell me about the change.

The number of classes I teach per day varies from 0 to 5. In a normal week, I'm required to teach 16 classes, but normal weeks are the exception. Be it holiday, cancellation, or school event, I rarely have a full load. Regardless, I still teach enough to keep me entertained. Since the number of students is so large at my school (600), I visit each class only once a week. It works well I think because the kids eagerly anticipate my arrival. I'm always the hero come to save them from the monotony of English class. Of course, I can't always do that, but I try. It is encouraging when I walk into a classroom and a dozen voices rise up, praising my return. "Pato! Pato!" they say. It's a treat. Then there are the bad times. Like when the students have to wait another day to get their tests back because I have a lesson with them. That's happened a few time, and each time I was unaware of the fact until after the lesson had begun.

Almost all of the teachers here are friendly, outgoing people. It's nice because I've heard bad things from other JETs about their coworkers. Mine don't ignore or mistreat me in any way. Nakayama Sensei and I have discussions everyday. Our main topic of late has been the declining American economy, which concerns him because of some investments he has. A few teachers, I suspect, don't like me, but we keep out of each other's way and everyone is happy. However, when the new school year starts, several teachers will switch schools. It's common practice here. Teachers rotate schools after a few years, always within the same vicinity. They say it's to shake things up, or move a bad teacher out of a school. (I wondered why they didn't just fire the bad teachers, but didn't ask.) I'm a bit worried about what kind of changes will occur here.

In class, the boys are the most fun. They are loud and engaging. Most girls are quiet and disinterested. That's a huge generalization, I hope you understand. There are very fun girls in classes and very quiet, moody boys as well. But for the most part, this is what I've noticed. Then outside of class, the girls are more talkative with me--more so than the boys. It's great, though, that they all want to talk to me. They try very hard to speak good English, and with my limited Japanese, I can sometimes verify what they're saying. I believe that these little conversations we have together are equal to five classroom lessons. It's true they need the books and worksheets and everything else to get a base understanding, but chatting together in the hallway contributes in a greater way to their abilities. Plus, I get to learn a bit of Japanese.

A JET has a lot of free time. I use my time to study Japanese and check Facebook and MySpace. Whenever I'm asked to do something for class, I do it right away. I think my coworkers are happy with my performance, but if they weren't, I'm not sure if they would even tell me. Steve said a JET is like a textbook that talks. We serve our purpose, then we're replaced when a new version is released. The comparison is troubling, but fitting, and sheds a little light on our place in the world. We're even more temporary than the textbooks.

I leave work at 4:15. I see the soccer boys through the chain-linked fence as I ride by, and they holler goodbyes. I get home and tell myself today I'll go jogging, but collapse for a nap instead.

That's pretty much the tip of the iceberg. I hope it gave a little insight to those seeking it. I could probably write a twenty-page article on the daily life of the JET. If you want to hear more, let me know.

By the way, quick update, awesome party last Saturday night in Sumoto. Will, Dayna, and I were the only gaijin in the place. There were about forty people crammed into this little bar. Lots of amicable folks who treated us like honored guests. I'll write about that another time.

Oh, and if you find errors in the writing, keep it to yourself for now. I'm in no mood :)

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY

2-4

Arguably my favorite class because there's never a dull moment. Whether it's belittling each other, screaming incoherencies, dancing, or calling me an otaku, we all have a grand time. Today was our last lesson as 2-4, but I'll see them again in their third year.



No one told the boys and girl to stand on opposite sides.

Funny story: the girls around me in the picture were smelling my shoulder. I guess it smells pretty nice. They are all very happy, outgoing girls. Also, they're all in the tennis club and I sometimes observe their practices. Whenever I show up, they seem pretty excited. I think I'll write about the practices later because they're quite interesting.

Graduation Picutres

It's that time of year...in Japan, anyway. Japanese school years end in March and begin in April. So this month the third-year students are leaving us. I know, so sad. Today was their graduation ceremony, and Nakayama Sensei was kind enough to let me take pictures with the school camera. For those who've wanted to see, there are plenty of pics of my students, including the student who has been saying "Dayna" to me every day since he spotted us together at Jusco.

As with the previous set of pictures, I will add a written reflection when I have the time and will power to crank it out.

http://s34.photobucket.com/albums/d150/patman200244/Seiun%20Graduation/

A Belated Anecdote

In most classes I begin the lesson with a list of warm-up questions. Simple stuff, really. "What day is it?" "Will you go to Tokyo in the spring?" Etc. The experience can be mind-numbing after multiple repetitions--and especially excruciating with an indifferent class--but I occasionally find unexpected nuggets of humor.

"What is yellow?" was the question. I'd stolen it if from the book; the accompanying answer was the sun. One excited student shot his hand into the air. This same boy, later in the period, would repeat the phrase "Yes, master" (part of the new words of the day) with a dramatic, distorted voice and comic timing that constantly made me burst into laughter. I called on him and he appeared stunned, as if he didn't expect this turn of events. Regardless, his smile stretched thin, and he stammered through his answer.

Pointing directly at the teacher, he shouted, "Mrs. _____'s face is yellow."

What effrontery! I fell in love with the boy immediately. I doubt he understood the magnitude of his claim, the racial implications buried in his English Phrase of the Day. He had intended it to be absurd, I'm sure, innocently absurd, but the product was more than that, and I had to laugh. Others joined in the laughter, of course, but for different reasons.

Ad Nihongo-Eigo Absurdum

Define Frustration

Studying Japanese all day, everyday, and still not being able to carry a conversation.

I've been too busy to update the blog lately (take a guess why), but the past week and a half has been good fun. Enjoyed a doll festival and explored a haunted, abandoned memorial. Below are the links to the pictures for both events. I'll write about them in the coming days, because a picture can say a thousand words, but a word can paint a thousand pictures.

http://s34.photobucket.com/albums/d150/patman200244/Hinamatsuri/

http://s34.photobucket.com/albums/d150/patman200244/Abandoned%20memorial/

See you soon. Thank you to those who leave comments. The rest of you, well...

Let's Start the Best Month Off Right

March, sweet March. Really, does it get any better? Spring's back and St. Paddy's Day's on the horizon. And this great month culminates with the birth of an extraordinary man. Etc. So let me tell you a tale about Seiun Jr. High that will put a smile on your face. (I make no guarantees.)

I was walking down the halls after classes had started and passed one of my favorite classes, the one where students shout, "I love Pat!" every time I arrive. My destination was further down the way, but when the students spotted me in the window, they said, "Pato, Pato, Pato," which is quite common. By this time the teacher had already begun her lesson, so I was causing a lot of problems for her. Then one of the more boisterous kids screamed, "I love Pat!" and the teacher lost it. She yelled at the kid (probably telling him to not disturb the class), and the kid responded with a meek, "I don't love Pat." The entire class erupted with laughter and I giggled to myself as a turned the corner.

There it is: you're funny story for the start of March. Oh, also in that class, I've told the students that if they respond "I'm fine" to the question "How are you?" then they have to dance. One student has taken it upon himself to say "I'm fine" every time, stand up, and do a little jig for us all. He's one of my favorite kids.