I Am Completely Serious

I like how I get paid and come home to find the yen’s actually lost on the dollar, for what I’m pretty sure is the first time in months.

I was paid in cash for some reason. (Apparently it’ll be direct-deposit next month.) It’s very weird having over a thousand dollars in cash sitting here next to me. I just have this urge to, like, gesture with it. Gesture at fools.

Even though they have completely forgotten everything from last week.

I had them just after two worst of the Sullen Middle-Schoolers, who managed to be even more infuriating than usual today. They kept trying to go to sleep, they wouldn’t play any of the games, and when I asked for their homework, one of them said in Japanese, disgustedly, “We don’t do our homework.”

Her tone suggested I should have known that by now. I do know it, sweetie, but it would be nice if you could at least pretend you just forgot it, or look maybe faintly embarrassed about it, like the other Never Do Their Homework kids. I’ve been giving all the students under the age of twenty chocolate for Valentines day this week, and I’d planned to, you know, be a grown up and give them theirs despite all their bad behavior, but it didn’t really seem like it’d be good for classroom discipline to give them presents after that little display.

So I’d been planning to be nice to them, and they made it impossible.

So I was not in a good mood when Mr. Yodeler came in for a make-up class. Mr. Yodeler is five, and is the other student in Little Miss Conan’s class. He’s always dancing and he sings everything he says. Even when he’s just sitting and coloring, he’s swaying back and forth, making up little songs out of the last few syllables whoever’s in the room said. And he mimics. When he’s with Conan, who’s pretty quiet, he alternates between mimicking her – that is, not talking – and mimicking me, ie, singing everything I say back at me.

The silences are annoying, because they create a feedback loop that makes Conan talk even less, but today I learned that he’s totally adorable by himself – no silence, just lots and lots of mimic-singing. I can totally trick him into memorizing sentence structures without him realizing it. And we’re doing body parts this month, so I can channel his dancing into a million billion repeats of Head And Shoulders Knees And Toes.

I really hope Mr. Yodeler’s parents have him in music classes.

(I unfortunately couldn’t give him chocolate, either – I have him again for his normal class with Conan tomorrow, and I’ll give him one then, but I don’t want to give anyone two.)

Mr. K was next. He again staggered in pretending to be dying, though this time it only lasted as long as it took him to get his boots off. I had to drill him on everything again today, because, as previously stated, he’d totally forgotten it all, even Head And Shoulders Knees And Toes.

I’ve had all the kids this week playing a Lupercalia-themed body parts game where one person wears a wolf mask and has to tag the others on a certain body part (I hold up a flashcard) with a balloon-animal-type balloon.* The older kids, like Mr. K, have to say a sentence with the word. I’ve been using the same balloon the whole time, so it’s gotten squeezed and poked at a lot. Mr. K and I played two rounds, and then I assigned him his greatest challenge – “fingers.” He has a lot of trouble pronouncing “fingers.” His expression grew intense as he formulated his sentence. His wolf mask dangled around his chin, because the string broke yesterday and it won’t really tighten anymore. He gripped the balloon tightly, preparing to launch an attack on me. The balloon burst.

He stood there frozen for a couple seconds, holding the remains of the balloon in his hands, looking tragic, nobly endeavoring to ignore my undignified giggling. He, at least, understood the gravity of this situation.

Then I gave him the stuffed chicken, and we used that to tag for the rest of the game.

As he was about to leave, he got kind of morose about something – usually he’s pretty chattery when it’s time to go, but today no. I walked him to the door and gave him his chocolate. He looked solemnly at it, then dug something out of his bag and handed it to me, his shoulders all hunched. He’d brought me a 100 yen thing of chocolate cookies from the Hyaku-En Shop.

It was obviously from his Mom. There was a little bow on it. I could maybe buy a seven-year-old boy deciding to bring Teacher a present*, but a little bow? Is a clear sign of Mom Intervention. You could see how sulky he was about the whole thing – aside from the general cross-cultural humiliation of Mom making you give Teacher a present, in Japan only girls give chocolate for Valentines day. It was the most hilariously adorable thing in the universe. I think I may have, like, brain diabetes now.

* I’ve explained the historical significance of this to Manager and a few of the parents, but it’s too much to get across to the kids. (Though I might try going into more detail with Mee tomorrow.) Crying Four-Year-Old’s*** Mom seemed intrigued by the presence of wolf-men in Ancient Valentines Day – “And here Japan just buys chocolate!”

** Some of the girls do – one gave me a bunch of peanuts last week, handing them to me one by one out of her pocket. I have also received a pink floral origami frog. (From one third of the Class That Always Acts Up, even!)

*** I had Crying Four-Year-Old for make-up today, too, and the other kid who’s supposed to be in his class actually showed up this time! And Crying Four-Year-Old didn’t cry! He was actually really, really cheerful – he was just happily chattering away to the other boy, explaining all the games I’d been playing with his Mom last week to him! I’d've thought the other kid was the shy one, if I’d never seen Weepy alone.

Problems inherent in the name “Sarah” and calling a taxi: Japanese people apparently tend to hear it as “Sanda” (I guess it can be a surname? I’ve never heard it before…), and so aren’t sure they buy that this gaijin is the person they’re supposed to be picking up.

Cut for long/boring/whiny.

Continue reading “Further Adventures with the Japanese Cell Phone Industry”

Cute thing from class on Saturday. That morning I had Little Miss Conan’s eleven-year-old sister, whom I shall call Mee because that’s what you call Little My in Japanese, in a private lesson. I was teaching her “favorite” and “least favorite.”

I asked her what her three favorite animals were. Her answers, in descending order: “Pony, white tiger, goat.”

Then she changed her mind about the goat. “No, no. Mini monkey!”

“…Mini monkey?”

“Mini monkey! I like mini monkey!” Then, in Japanese: “Wait, how do you say a monkey’s baby? A little monkey?”

I considered this. “Baby monkeys?”

“Okay! I like baby monkey!”

Only baby monkeys, now, folks. Don’t go giving Mee any grown-up monkeys. That shit will not fly.

(I then drilled her on the plural form, yes.)

Accomplishments this weekend:

* I purchased, laboriously hauled home, and assembled a small wooden shelving unit for the kitchen. This all makes me feel very macho. I even managed to avoid putting any the sections in with the unfinished side wrong-way-around.

* I rearranged the kitchen to accommodate said shelving unit. I have put a power strip in there and plugged both the microwave and rice cooker into it; I will hope that this doesn’t overstrain it.

* Got a case and inkpad for my hanko, so I can actually use it if necessary. (It hasn’t been necessary so far.)

* Until today I’d only been able to find one ATM that would take my American debit card, and it was twenty-five minutes walk away and in the middle of nowhere. But now I’ve I located another – it’s also twenty-five minutes away, but it’s in a big shopping center, so I can combine errands. And I’m 99% sure I’ve found a third, five minutes away FTW! I have enough cash that I haven’t tested that one yet, but it’s a Japan Post Yucho machine, and those all seem happy with American cards.

* Deposited some money in my Japanese account so I can get a cell phone.

* Failed to actually get a cell phone, because the place I went to didn’t have any English-language pamphlets. Japanese cell phone plans are intentionally complicated – they’re mostly incomprehensible even in translation. I’m not giving these people any money without English documentation. Will try at another store before work tomorrow. (I know the damn pamphlets exist because I saw them in Tokyo and Okazaki.)

* Discovered a good reason, aside from fashion, to have a matching hat-scarf set: The scarf’s presence around your neck makes it very easy to prove to the Lost and Found people that you are also the owner of the hat.

I own four hats, and have now lost and recovered three of them once apiece. I wonder if, when I finally go through this process with the fourth, I will at last be safe, or if the cycle will simply begin anew.

* Finally remembered to buy headphones.

* Examined prices for curtains and toaster ovens, items I intend to purchase when I finally get my friggin’ paycheck.

* Totally failed to pick up my resident alien card. I have to do that sometime between today and a week from today or a Bureaucratic Nightmare Possibly Ending In Deportation will ensue, and I had made an entry on Google Calenders to remind me to do it today, and Google Calenders didn’t send me the damn reminder email argh. It would have been a lot cheaper to do it today because I would’ve had time to take the damn bus, but if I have to get it done before work I’ll probably have to take a cab.

* Totally failed to do any lesson planning yet. But I have Ideas. I think I’m going to do a holiday thing and teach the older kids about Lupercalia.

* Levelled my Tauren Druid up to 125 in Enchanting. (Why can the horrible Native American stereotypes become moronic Celtic stereotypes…?) This isn’t actually an accomplishment.

There isn’t room on the sidewalk coming up to the apartment for two people to walk abreast of each other. So when two middle-school girls on a bicycle together came up behind me, I stepped into the gutter to let them pass.

The girl pedaling stopped and squinted at me. The other giggled.

Pedaling Girl said, “S – sss – orry!” She worked very hard to get the “s” sound right. I said, “Daijoubu desu.”

They zoomed off, both chortling at the fact that they had actually used their English lessons.

A girl called the Monkey has been chosen to lead the Host of Heaven, who are made of metal and have no eyes. Much of the world below them is in ruins from the Host’s attempts to conquer the people there. Once they have the Monkey, they will begin the final assault.

So the Monkey has run from them for a long time, having adventures and rescuing people and making new friends, elves and ghosts and animals and humans. She is only thirteen or fourteen, but is probably the greatest martial artist in the world.

Most of her friends think that is why the angels want her. But the quiet and cool-tempered Princess, who is helping to coordinate resistance against the Host, and whom the Monkey has rescued from them over and over and over, thinks there is another reason. Something the Monkey already knows, but does not want to admit to herself. The Monkey keeps her distance from the Princess, telling herself it is to protect her.

Continue reading “Complicated Dreams”

I had one of the Exasperating Middle-Schooler Classes today. These are exasperating because the middle-schoolers are very sullen, and thus frequently mumble or refuse to talk. (I have four middle-school-age classes, and all but one of them go like this. The one is Little Miss Conan’s big sister, who asks me all sorts of inappropriate questions and disputes the historical accuracy of my “ninja pose.” If she would just attempt to do more of this IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE she’d be my favoritest ever.)

But in between today’s bouts of sulky silence, this bunch, too, started doing the alternating, “Yes, we can!” and “No, we can’t!” chants.

I said, “Why are you mean to Obama?” (I had just taught them “mean.”)

One of them said in Japanese, “Because we love him.”

Sulker #2 made a disgusted noise.

I said in English, “You do? Okay. Say “I love Obama.”"

“I love Obama,” said Sulker #1 obediently, possibly only obeying to annoy Sulker #2.

“Now you,” I instructed Sulker #2. “”I love Obama! I love Obama!”"

Glaaare.

“Yeah, you be that way.”

And then I made them play my home-made pencil-and-paper version of “Operation,” which #1 called “somehow vaguely okay” (Sulker #1, Ironic Tone: “Nanka tanoshii…”) and #2 scribbled all over, cementing today’s irritation with #2. I made that thing specifically for use by sullen eleven-year-olds, and you did not respect it!

Today I had both Crying Four-Year-Old and the Indomitable Mr. K again. Crying Four-Year-Old cried again, this time before his mom had even put him down on the floor. She came in and sat with him on her lap, and she played my four-year-old-intended games with me for half the class while he watched big-eyed, until he finally felt okay doing it himself. He kept looking back to make sure she hadn’t left, though.

Lady, you seem really nice and everything, but if you always pick the kid up and start petting him when he starts crying, it’s no wonder he does it so much.

Mr. K was hilarious. Literally every kid I had today was coughing, most of them being very Japanese about it, hunching their shoulders and looking slightly embarrassed and pretending it hadn’t happened. Mr. K staggered in pretending to be dying of tuberculosis. For a second I thought he was really sick, because he was doing a really good glazed expression, but his mom said, “No, no, he’s just a con artist.” He then started giggling, but continued to lurch around as he took off his coat and sat down at the table. Whenever he did badly in a game, he “died,” once banging his head against the wall pretty hard. He got up giggling, so I’m assuming he didn’t concuss himself.

Mr. K always gets incredibly happy when he gets a word right on his first try. Unfortunately, he almost never does that. His class is only half an hour long, not fifty minutes like most classes, so he doesn’t have as much time to soak stuff up. He’s a year behind all the other seven-year-olds. I’m trying to decide if I should be giving him extra homework.

I was actually briefly confused about Mr. K’s gender. He’s got a very androgynous haircut, and most of his clothes could go either way. It doesn’t help that there’s a girl in one of the other classes who literally looks exactly like him, except a head taller. (Her name has “hime” in it, or I’d have wondered about her – I had the vague idea Mr. K’s name was a masculine one, but I haven’t heard it much, so I wasn’t sure. “Princess,” however, is not ambiguous.) He’s marked as a boy on my schedule, but so was the unrelentingly-pinkly-garbed Little Miss Conan. So I wasn’t completely sure until I heard Manager calling him “K-kun.”

I haven’t even gone to work yet, but today I have:

1) done laundry

2) picked up my hanko (had to be custom-ordered because, oddly enough, Polish-Jewish surnames are uncommon in Japan)

3) finally gotten around to buying a pillow (the one my bedding came with is tiny)

4) gotten back to the room and hung my laundry up to dry

5) remembered to charge most (though not all, I forgot the iPod until just now) of my electronics

6) done today’s lesson plan

Now I just need to make myself continue the productivity streak and get Saturday’s lesson planning done today. (Saturday I teach for seven of the eight hours I’m there, with no preparation time. Thursdays I only have one class (as previously mentioned), so today is prep day.)

Seven-year-olds are astute judges of artistic style – they can tell I downloaded those pictures of a moon, a nest, an octopus, and a peach from four completely different websites, and they think the resulting coloring sheet crude, according it no respect. Nor do they approve the ones I draw myself, placing me without difficulty as an amateur using a marker purchased at the Hyaku-En Shop.

But I put this together in about five minutes before I left yesterday, and for some reason the Class That Always Acts Up were extremely pleased with it:

They said, “Sugoi!” Why? I spent forever drawing that bear in overalls waving bye-bye for you guys the other day, only to have you look at me and say, disgustedly, “Did teacher draw this?” Yet you like the Spider Jerusalem face? I think all the creepy corporate mascots your country produces have damaged the taste centers of your brains.

Today I successfully 1) set up a Japanese savings account and 2) withdrew money from my American account. Take that, hostile universe.

In reference to the day I decided to look into drinking as my new hobby:

Continue reading “Bruce Schneier would have harsh words.”