"To you The Renaissance was something that just happened to other people wasn't it?"

Q: How are these two sumo wrestlers different? Write your answer using the phrases learned in lesson 18.
A: Asashoryu and Kotooshu are foreigner rikishi [sumo wrestlers]
Kotooshu is Bulgaria yogurt. Asashoryu is Attack.

Q: Do you think school uniform is necessary?
A: I am agreeable in their being a uniform. [this is a good start, but then...]
Because one is because I understand that there is a uniform well probably because it is school of any place. However, correctness of rules is considered it to be understood another person well by just that much. One is already because is because convenience. The reason because is because it is troubled to wear what every morning. And it finishes it. Therefore I am agreeable to uniform.

The Enkai

The Japanese, much like every other nationality I have met, like to mark their special occasions by getting wasted. Why is this? Why do we all see a special event as an opportunity to drink until we can’t see? A few weeks ago I was asked to explain the annual events we have in the UK, like Christmas, New Year, Halloween, and all that. Alcohol seemed to be the common theme, no matter how I tried to spin it. Last night I attended the English department enkai – a party, it seemed, for getting to the end of the school year. I left the apartment, as usual, in a hurry and banged my head, as very usual, on the light fitting in the porch. I got to the restaurant four minutes late to find them almost finished with the first course – four minutes. “You are rate Geoff-san!” Me? I replied, I’m always late ha ha, and they all laughed. Just a little too much.

The theme of the night was established early on – it seemed to be ‘Let’s Enjoying Mixing Our Drinks’. Geoff-san, here is beer. Have gin-tonic Geoff-san. This is special sochu, drink, ah here is hot sake. Have more beer. Beer, for them, is for three things – a starter; something to wash other drinks down with; and as a palate cleanser. The running joke of the evening, that Koizumi-sensei didn’t like alcohol – told most often by Koizumi himself – never seemed to tire. Ha ha. For some suicidal reason the Japanese love to mix their drinks, indeed to drink anything and everything.

As well as looking interested in the mainly Japanese conversation going on around me I was also expected to eat anything put in front of me - which in Japan is unrealistic, and a little mean. As I was forcing down my third mouthful of raw fish flesh I was asked
"Is there some kind of food you cannot eat?"
I replied squid and octopus (because really, do you want to put that in your mouth?)
“Are you allergic?” they asked in surprise.
“No no, I just don’t like them.”
There was a sudden silence. Awkward stares at plates. They really seem to take it personally if you happen not to like a Japanese dish (which for me happens often).

After finishing dinner Koizumi-sensei asked where we should go next as, it seemed, none of them actually lives in Toyama. I suggested some fine martinis at my new favourite find, The Jazz bar. “Ha ha, but I don not like alcohol” - cue much hilarity.

The bar was a surprising success. The barman, handily, recognised me from the sports bar where I used to watch the rugby. I ordered a martini for myself in Japanese (not very hard) and handed menus around to my amazed colleagues (really, they make little excited claps when I help them with their English queries - they are not hard to impress). After a little the music began to get a little downbeat so I asked the barman to put on some John Coltrane. And of course for another martini. “What is this Geoff-san?” asked my supervisor as I coolly handed back the CD which the barman had brought over for my inspection “Oh, this is John Coltrane, he’s quite good”
“And what is this playing?” she asked ten minutes later
“This is, ah, Everytime We Say Goodbye”
“Ah soooo desu kaaa!” And I was voted Jazz president. Honestly, it was only the second time I’d been to that bar; it was a freakish coincidence that that particular barman was working that night and I totally lucked out at knowing the one song they asked me about. Still, I’ll take my kudos where I can get it; at least I didn’t fall over, or spill my drink. Or vomit.

After several more gin-tonics, martinis, and shingaporshlings, we left – the ladies to go home and, apparently, the two male teachers and me to go for ramen. It was over steaming bowls and more beer that the real purpose of the enkai is revealed – to bitch about work, specifically, my work. They are all majorly pissed off it seems at my decision to not re-contract. Not because I’m a dreamboat, but because...
“when predecessor was here at this time she signed contract again but she changie her mind right now to go back to boyfriend. It was very difficult for us. As for you we think it was ok because your girlfriend here with you. Why will you leave Geoff-sensei?” There followed some horribly embarrassing explanations on my part – getting married, want a career job and so on.
“Why did you not think this before you come?” Hmm. No real answer to that, but I tried to explain the one-year nature of the JET program – where re-contracting is an option but is not pushed. This, it seems, is a major inconvenience for JTEs, as they need continuity –which I can understand. Finally the incredibly awkward ramen was over and it was time to go, home I thought.
“Tell me Geoff-sensei,” asked the younger JTE “where do ALTs go? Ah, the Pot Still? Let’s go there…”

I finally got in at 1.45am, or so Robin tells me (sorry Robin…), for a couple of hours sleep before work. I spent the next day mostly lying down in the male teacher’s lounge trying to stop the world spinning. Why do they do these things on a school night?

"When the going gets tough, the tough hide under the table"

For the last few weekends I have been undertaking the mammoth task of internationalising the Japanese. It's been a tough slog, but after two weekends of intense communication I have finally managed to rid the Japanese of their terrible accents; I have harmonised relations between Japan and the rest of Asia, and I have single-handedly increased tourism to Wales from Japan by more than 700%. How have I done this? International Festivals.

Two weeks ago AJET put on the annual JETFest: a festival to celebrate and encourage relations between the Japanese and everybody else. Proud folk from such far flung places as Russia, the Americas, Australia, New Zealand, the UK, Ghana, and China represented their nations with great aplomb. Cambodia was also represented, but alas by an English and a Scottish girl. The UK, being inhabited by a factious people, was represented by the various home nations. England was proudly displayed with drinks (tea, gin and tonics) and food (biscuits, bread and marmalade) and some fine English people; that pretend place the Isle of Man was represented by the only person from the Isle of man that I have ever met outside of the Isle of Man, with some impressive slides, brochures and videos; and Scotland was represented by two of three Scots in the ken (the other one having defected to Cambodia) with posters, flags, general Scottish paraphernalia and, most importantly, Scotch. Being sandwiched between the stands offering G&Ts and Scotch I was nicely provisioned for the afternoon ahead. Ireland was represented by a small can of Guinness.

As the only Welshman in the ken it fell to me to create and man the Wales stall, accurately located between the UK/England and Isle of Man stalls.

Like my erstwhile compatriots, but more so, my booth rocked - Welsh cakes, leeks, rugby on a laptop (Wales beating Australia followed by Wales beating Scotland), Welsh rock blaring from a stereo (Manics, Catatonia, 'phonics, The Morriston Orpheus Male Voice Choir) and assorted maps, brochures, and posters of the fair and beautiful Land of My Fathers. It's a shame the Japanese didn't realise quite how much my booth rocked - they seemed more drawn towards the Isle of Man (and I'm pretty sure that that is the first time that particular phrase has ever been uttered by anyone, anywhere).

They might have a point, the Japanese that is. Dylan Thomas is said to have commented, "Land of my fathers? They can keep it", he is also quoted as describing Swansea as an "ugly, lovely, town." More recently the film "Twin Town" described Swansea as a "pretty shitty city". On the floor at the threshold of Swansea train station are emblazoned the words "Ambition is Critical", as if the founders of Swansea knew what they had in front of them. It's a shame that they chose to put that inspiring slogan on the floor, where people tread on it all day. So, the Japanese might be onto something when it comes to Swansea.


Much of "internationalising" involves of pointing, one-word dialogues and smiling. And embarrassing silences. Take this exchange I had with a very pleasant J-girl (please...)

"Never I Englando"
" Ah no, Wales, this is Wales"
"Wayurzu? Ah. Never I Englando"
"Oh, well, Wales is ichiban! Have you been to Wales before?" (Number 1/ the best)
" Ehhh...................mmm......................... London doko wa desu ka?" (Where is London?)
"In England. This is Wales. The Capital is Cardiff. Here is a photo."
"..........."
"Have some cake."
"oishi.................................sumimasen" (Delicious.................um.......... excuse me, I'm off)

Some Japanese of course know where Wales is as there are rather a lot of J-factories in the valleys of South Wales, and those that did asked me awkward questions, the answers to which I only vaguely knew, but after a G&T and a Scotch I was more than happy to bluff it, and indeed the rest of the day.

"Evil will always triumph because good is dumb."

In the JET community we have an internet message board - a place to discuss important JET-related issues with other JETs in the ken and swap teaching ideas. It is a vital tool for the efficient exchange of information; a resource for all.

The biggest section is 'Rants and Raves', which is where we slag everybody off.

JETs do not always have a lot to do, so this is where you can usually find most people. There are various 'threads' that cater to subjects from the weather to how much the Japanese suck at life. My favourites are the "I'm Not A Commie Bastard" thread, which is mainly about politics. The title of the thread is an exercise in newspeak, as it seems to be the main forum where Western, European, and Canadian liberals gang up on the two or three right-wing republican JETs and blame them for most of the world's ills. Favourite quotes sources are the BBC, The Guardian, The New York Times, and The Daily Show. The words "Fox News" are an abhorrence in this thread. "In The News" is where those of the politics thread lament the state of the world before moving to the politics thread to blame the Americans for it. "In The Sports News" is the thread where mainly British and former Empire countries lament or rejoice in the latest rugby, football, and cricket scores. Occasionally some Americans will post about weird sports and talk gibberish about things in decimal places.

There are, at any time, around 20 people posting. There are regulars who seem to be able to reply to every post in seconds, and there are those like me who, by the time they've finished typing a reply with two fingers, find that the conversation has leaped ahead and they're talking to themselves. Some people you should never get into an argument with for they seem to have the unnatural ability to consult Wikipedia and Google in seconds (the fonts of all modern day knowledge) and crush you with reams of facts and figures.

There are also the entertaining posters - the nihilistic and the outright strange. The most entertaining are those who lament the naiveté of the pinko-card-carrying-commie-liberals. According to an article I read recently, on a long enough timeline all men will develop prostate cancer. And so it is with the message board; given long enough every subject will turn into the 'USA vs. Everybody Else' debate. I used to rant endlessly on the Everybody Else side until I realised that I don't always disagree with them (the USA side). I can understand their point of view. I don't always agree with it, but I can see the rationale. The realist side of me will always win out against the idealist, but I just like to argue.

The great thing about the boards is that is really is a meeting place for everybody, and nothing said on it really affects you in the real world - it's for shits and giggles; a place where we can all vent about the retardedness of Japanese bureaucracy. The teaching threads are a goldmine: if you ever need another English-speaking opinion, or a last-minute teaching idea, you are guaranteed an almost instant response.

The boards are, however, a finicky mistress - an hour of vent or verbal dueling will brighten up your day, but you'll always find yourself going back, just to check. The amount of time JETs spend on the boards is a subject that has been apparently brought up at Education Board meetings. I'll certainly miss it when I leave.

I Smell Bacon.....

Originally uploaded by pedroalhambra.

Last week I took part in the annual JETFest - an international festival held and run by JETs for the local community to learn about where we all come from. More about that later. For now: this is a sheriffs badge that I picked up from the American booth and wore around for a bit, because, y'know, I'm a retard. A few days later I was taking off my coat in the apartment and, oh - what's this? Ah. Oohhhhhhh. I realised that I still had on said badge of the law and had indeed been wearing it most of the day in the staff room. I was wondering why the kyoto-sensei kept drawing his imaginary gun at me...

Trust me...

Koizumi
Originally uploaded by pedroalhambra.

This, my fine freinds, is Japan's venerable Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi. He's recently won a general election here by taking out a lot of his own MPs, who disagreed with his over the privatization of the post office, by fielding his own "assasin" candidates. Japanese politics - the continuation of war by other means...

Let's hear it for the...

Win one for the Gipper!

In Russia, as recently as 1990, if you wanted to work for the state or join an institution of some sort you had to fill out a form declaring whether or not you, or your relatives, had ever been a prisoner of war in Germany or had been sent to the gulags. Obviously if you answered yes you were immediately treated as suspect - not to be employed or trusted. This was Russia - a country ruled by successive paranoids.

In the U.S. when you are about to enter the country they have you fill out a visa form. On the back they ask various pertinent questions. They basically boil down to:

1. Are you insane, or indeed a junkie?
2. Are you a criminal mastermind?
3. Are you a Nazi war criminal? And while we're here - are you a terrorist?
4. Are you here to kidnap someone?
5. Hang on...have we thrown you out of the U.S. before?
6. Um, do we want to arrest you?

They give you this form on the plane before you're about to land. Beneath the questions they helpfully remind you that "if you reply YES to any of these questions....you may be refused entry to the United States."

Truly, I can't think why the intelligence on Iraq was faulty...

Divine Wind-Up

The Japanese never seem to look up.

Every morning Robin and I have to weave our way to the train station. We ride on our bikes most days and admittedly, we ride on the pavements, but it's okay; the pavements (sidewalks) have bike lanes, it's a bike kind of society. You wouldn't think it though to see the Japanese blithley walking wherever the hell they like, staring at the floor. Oh, they wont cross the road if it's red - even when its so quiet that tumbleweed slowly rolls by - they'll even queue in orderly demarcated lines for when the train pulls up. But walk blindly through crowded shopping centers, down crowded streets, through crowded train stations? you betcha.

I've never seen them collide though. I read once that ants have this sense, that though they can't see in their swarming dark nests they know exactly where everybody is and what they're doing, due to some special receptor. It must be the same with the Japanese. However, they don't seem to be able to 'see' me, the six foot foreigner. In fact, like moths to burning death, they're attracted: they veer toward me without being aware of it. I can spot the 'veerers' from a hundred meters. I can tell they're heading straight for me, head down. I veer left, they match me. I veer right, they veer to my right. Right before the moment of impact I leap aside and - they don't even look up, they continue, oblivious. They have no idea what just almost happened. In World War II kamikaze pilots weren't intentionally crashing into American ships, they just had their eyes glued to the cockpit floor.

"Is this an essay, or dog poop? I'm not wearing my glasses today."

I walk in at 8.15 this morning, which is always a pain in itself. Normally I'm slurping my third cup of coffee from my travel mug, so I'm apathetic and jacked. I look at the schedule to see if there are any changes (often the whole day will be different to the published schedule. I'll walk in on a two-lesson monday to find I've been given four extra classes. Sometimes the entire day has been cancelled) and indeed two classes have been swapped and several added.

It's okay, it's okay. Just get more coffee.

My head of department comes over - I can see her shuffling towards me from the corner of my eye. I strain, desperately trying to be invisible. I end up farting. Classy.

"Geoff-sannnnn. Today. Three more classes..."
In an effort to prevent a five minute verbal beating of "eto eto ne ne eto eto" I interject, breezily,
"Ah yes, our class has been moved from third period to fourth. Also it seems a couple have been added at third, second, and fifth. Yes, that's wonderful, ok then..."

But no, she continues, oblivious. This morning however there is a slight variation,

"So we have OC for only half a class"
"Ok, so you only want me for half the class"
"...Eto eto...."

Eventually she goes. I'm free and clear. But I know I have to ask the obvious questions, otherwise she'll just assume - and then there will be the awkward silence in class when she turns and says to the class "Geoff-sensei will now tell you all about...."

"Which half?"
"...eto..." Oh bloody hell.

I manage to drag out of her, through various probing questions that yes, she wants me for the second half. Yes, she would like me to prepare an activity (the subtle hint "we will do something else" was the key phrase for me there. 'We' often means 'you', and "something else" means "make an activity that will take 45 minutes so i don't have to actually teach. Ta"). Finally it's done. I have five minutes til my first lesson. I eye the coffee pot, planning my route, i can still make it...

..."Geoff-sannnn. Geoff-san, eto, we, uh, eto, I make, eto"
Oh sweet Jesus...
"....I make mistake. Ne. We do full class."
Which means you, Geoff, you do full class.

OK. I can deal. I am a smart young man with several degrees. I chose to come here. This is fine. I am learning, if you like: growing.

I have two minutes, I can still make the coffee...

......"Geoff-senseeeei..." Crap. When it's 'sensei' you know you're going to end up doing something for someone... The head of third grade comes to inform me of the details of the upcoming English department enkai (party). But he doesn't just show me the map with the arrows and times drawn on that he's brought - he sits down and explains in detail the very complex workings of going to a party,
"This is a map. This is the station. This is block. You walk two blocks. This is corner. This is..." DUDE! MY COFFEEEEE!! ....aaaand then the bell for first lesson goes.

My fiancee rocks - Valentines Day present....

Fw:
Originally uploaded by pedroalhambra.

Your soul may belong to Jesus, but your ass belongs to Kureha

Walking into my school is like entering the aftermath of a battle. After a brisk lunchtime walk (to McDonalds) I entered my school and proceeded down the hallway. On the way I stopped to "talk" to two second-graders, one of whom had immense amounts of strapping on her leg - basketball injury. A second or two later I overtook a boy on crutches - track and field mishap. Then I passed two girls shuffling by like Typhoid Mary herself - 'flu. This morning I excused a boy who came to write his answer on the board because his writing hand was heavily banadaged after baseball practice. It seems we don't have a nurses room here, we have a triage.

One's never alone with a rubber duck

One definite highlight of the weekend was Saturday when Robin and I went to a town called Toga for the Toga Soba Festival with an Australian friend of mine and his Japanese girlfriend. The festival was an impressive affair with some fine soba noodle dishes and surprisingly spectacular ales. There were also a variety of remarkable snow sculptures. I say sculptures; I mean architecture. These things were thirty-foot high monoliths ranging from Hello Kitty to the Parthenon, including a Police Station with actual policemen inside. The whole show was headed by the main stage, which seemed to be an homage to the Valley of the Kings with pyramids so intricately sculpted I expected Tutenkarmun himself to emerge to complain about the noise. The festival ended with a wedding ceremony. Of course. A local couple, bathed in lighting that would have made Jean-Michelle Jar weep, stood in the pouring snow for an hour while various speeches were made. The best man, wearing a tux and a pair of neon yellow snow boots, stood by the side holding an ineffectual umbrella above the bride. To mark the end of the ceremony they rang a bell in a small snow carved chapel, setting off a tremendous fireworks display. It was all rather affecting actually, but in a very Japanese kind of way.

And now it seems I am famous.
“Geoff-san” said my head of department at the speech contest the next day “did you enjoy Toga yesterday?”
“Um, yes, I did. How did you know I was there?”
“I saw you on the news”

At first I as rather worried as I had consumed rather a lot of the wonderful local brew. But the local news station, who it seems had very little else to report, had caught me peering at the local produce in an unusally interested and local way.

“Well” I replied, recovering somewhat “have to do my bit for internationalization you know…”

Survival of the nanni nanni

This morning Robin and I were discussing the homework we each set for our students, and which subjects have got good responses (i.e. more than three lines per student) and which have not. We realized that the similarities between all the students’ answers begs the question: do they meet beforehand to decide the line that they as a group are going to take? I think they do – the commonality of their answers, and their reasoning, reflects the nature of Japanese society to think en masse and stick to the agreed opinion. It's no wonder that they’re having a problem with the birth-rate – somebody somewhere decided that having babies was rubbish. Now they’re stuck on the mobius loop of extinction.

Quickly, strangle it before it starts trying to make friends!

Eating ramen in Japan can sometimes be like accidentally taking in a mouth of brine while boogeyboarding. Since being in Japan I have generally tended to stay away from alot of Japanese food due to the horrendous things they sometimes do to it - sprinkling fish-product where fish really ought not to be, mixing foods that should never be mixed (often involving fish), cruelly calling things 'dessert' and 'sweets' when they are the farthest thing from dessert that you could imagine. And involve fish. I have been a very bad internationaliser in this repect. I did however eat at the best restaurant yet the other night with some of the Sunshine 88ers. It was wonderful. I might yet venture into the land of japanese cuisine.

One of the stranger things in Japan happens in restaurants: they shout at you. And in shops too. In fact in many places. They shout at you when you arrive and they shout at you when you leave. You'd think that it might be off-putting for customers, but it really is just the Japanese version of hospitality - customer service. They're actually thanking you for coming and welcoming you/seeing you off. The Japanese, unfortunately, only have one way of doing this and it involves monotone shouting. Imagine walking into McDonalds and having the surly tenager behind the counter, the spotty teenagers at the grills, and the ugly teenager washing dishes in the back all turn around and shout "HELLLLLOTHANKYOUFORCOMINNNNNNNG!" in the loudest and screechingest voices that their pubescence will allow. And again on your way out. Imagine the librarian standing on a chair at your arrival and announcing to all "EVERYBODYLOOOOOKHEEEE'SGOING TOTHESELF-HELPSECTIONNNNN!"

Imagine it at the doctors'...

Smarter than a brain pie...?

In Japan there is such a thing as the speech contest. As if school itself wasn't stressful enough. To my knowledge I don’t think we do speech contests in the UK, although I vaguely remember being involved in a debate contest held by a rotary club when I was in high school. The All Toyama High School Speech Contest 2006 was held last Sunday – for some a nerve-wracking hell of excitement, for other an annoying intrusion into my, er, their weekend. One silver lining for the ALTs is that after two painful months of coaching students, mainly girls, in the subtleties of speechifying the day had finally arrived when we would be relieved of our burdens and set free back into our world of free-wheelin’ English speakin’. No longer will we be subjected to the butchering of ‘She Walks in Beauty’ by Lord Byron. No more will ‘The Great Gatsby’ be reduced three times a week merely to ‘Gatsby.’ No more will my student’s impressions of Stephen Hawking stalk my dreams.

More of a celebration will be when we will get the chance to return to our schools, trophy-less, to be able to say to our JTEs in a loud clear voice “If you hadn’t waltzed in and interfered on the last day of practice we would all be dancing right now.” Because we would. A common theme of the contest, so I hear from my fellow ALTs is that for weeks the ALTs trained and coached the students to speak near comprehensible English only to have the JTE appear for the final session and change everything:

JTE: ...Lots of Japanese that only Geoff can't understand...
Student: ...More Japanese...Geoff-sensei...Japanese Japanese
Geoff: Sumimasen? What?
JTE: Geoff-sensei, I think maybe she does not have to raise the inflection at the end of that sentence.
Geoff: But it is a question
JTE: No, the question was before
Geoff: It’s a multipart question that’s quite long. You have to raise the inflection at the end to make sure the audience knows that you are still posing the question.
JTE: Maybe (Japanese for “no”)
Geoff: Uhh, OK.
JTE: ...Japanese Japanese Japanese... annger, not anger
Geoff: What? There’s a ‘g’ in anger, ang-guh! Oh, whatever…..

And the session continued with the JTE changing everything, even adding ridiculous gestures worthy of the Thunderbirds puppets. I started to doodle on my pad…

Come Sunday I turned up to watch my four girls. Not only had the JTEs changed the pronunciations but they also thought it best to turn the speech into a vaudeville act. Yuka, a first-grader, threw her arms up in the air at the slightest words – like ‘and’ and ‘it’.

The eventual winners of the contest turned out to be half-Brazilian Super-English School students with English-speaking parents. I saw one of their performances, and performance it was – I could’ve taken some bread and made sandwiches with all that ham flying around…

I'd rather french kiss a French man

Among the various discussions Robin and I had about whether to re-contract, a common factor against was the very raison d’etre of a JET – teaching in a Japanese school. This far outweighed the all periphery benefits of our crazy life here.

The normal working day is 8.30am to 5.10pm. That adds up to 45 hours a week, of a possible 168. Add to that the need to sleep at least seven hours a night – 49 hours a week – and you get (I’ll wait while you do the maths….dooobeydoobeydoo…) that’s right - 94 hours. Now, add on all the hours involved in the rigmarole of having a job (commuting, preparing etc.)and you get around 104 hours a week, of 168, that we have to spend on, or preparing for, teaching in school.

Now don't get me wrong - this is part of having a job, I know this and indeed am well acquainted with it. Everybody everywhere who works has to do this. But when it is a job that you don't necessarily love (and I've had one or two of those ) then it becomes something to think about.

I did have a point before the mathematical ramble, and it was this: I spend so much time at school with people that annoy me that I should really talk about them more.

Due to the public nature of this medium, and the possibility that the higher-ups at the Toyama Board of Education might read this (as has happened to some JETs here), I might - when I am being less than pleasant - slip into a somewhat obfuscatory style of writing.


A certain teacher (whose main function is related to me in a somewhat overseeing nature), I think, hates me. Well, not me (surely not!), but me as an ALT. This person has a habit of not telling me things I need to know until the absolute last minute, sometimes even after that, with the helpful comment “maybe I should have told you that before…” In class this person will use inappropriate subjects concerning my private life as pedagogic examples. Nothing rude, but stuff that I would generally not talk to you about unless you were a very good friend of mine or I was drunk. (Don’t be offended when reading this; if you and I have been involved in the latter then more than likely you’re also the former). Her choice of Anglo-communication is sometimes contradictory to what she is trying to say and is often so abrupt as to be rude.
When announcing the end of every lesson with me she’ll say “So much for today’s lesson.” When trying to get my contribution to the teacher’s party fund she’ll say “You give me X yen, now.” Yesterday she told me ten minutes before I was leaving, “There are two student outside. You have to coach them for the speech contest. It is ten minutes before your working time is over. They are waiting.” This, however, is a trait that many Japanese speakers of English apparently share, because of the way Japanese is spoken. It does get on my nerves though.

Of the colleagues with whom I am most often occupied in my present vocation I really enjoy my relationship with less than one of them. I can bear, however, two of them because they are actually pretty decent at what they do and actually use me effectively.

Of my other colleagues who hang around the staff room there are a few who, if I were to stay longer, I would try to get to know. One is concerned with a science of a numerical nature, and also a subject more concerned with machines and their informational ability. He is the obvious ‘lad’ in the room; our conversations normally revolve around the kinds of beers we like. The other is culinarilly inclined, and is quite domineering. She is also quite a lad, and funny judging by the laughs she gets (that might however be forced laughter – she is quite scary).

The kyoto-sensei (Vice Principal) is a likeable old kook. He often jokes around with the students (especially Matsuda, a second grader who knows enough English to be annoying but is a useful English-teaching tool as a class clown). Now and then we’ll have a conversation about the weather. This is because I know the Japanese words for hot, cold, snow, and rain and he knows the English equivalents. Knowing these words in Japanese is a must in Toyama; if Toyama were a state in the union it would be called ‘The Umbrella State.’

Our photocopying lady is worth a mention; she is extremely quiet and has a shitty job, but she always looks if not apathetic then at least not pissed off with her lot. She’s young compared to everyone else here. She’s one of those people who you can imagine either spending their nights at home in front of the fire surrounded by cats and drinking cocoa, or, out on the town downing shots and dancing on tables to the latest tunes.

And back to the beginning point – I spend five days a week with my co-workers. This week I spent six days. And. They. Drive. Me. Crazy.

Apologies for the lateness of this post, and indeed it’s dullness, but little has happened of late worth writing about. Anyway, I might have some excitement soon; I’ve just realised that if any of the learned people at the Board of Education come across this blog my circumlocutionary style will not save me: they’ve only to look at the address bar to know who I am.