Moved again - sorry.

Scratch that - I've moved to http://colasensei.wordpress.com/

Sorry for any confusion.

I'm moving

I've moved to http://mayinjapan.wordpress.com/

Basically, I couldn't figure out how to left-align my blog title. 

So I gave up on blogger. 

Tech-phobic? I didn't think so until a few hours ago.

My Luck Has Finally Changed - Setsubun

Today is the first day of Spring. At least according to Japan. 

Yesterday was Setsubun, or the changing of the seasons. There are a whole bunch of traditions associated with this, and last night I got dragged into two of them. 

After my last class at the school, I was cycling home when my boss rang me to summon me back. Presuming something important was going down, I turned my old clunker round and went back. She swanned in with bags of roasted soybeans, followed by her pissed-off-looking husband, son and niece. She distributed the beans to all the kids who were still hanging around, giving some to me and the other teachers too. We had to throw them out the door while shouting "Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi!"

An "oni" is either a devil/goblin/bad spirit, or the "it" when you're playing tag. "Fuku" is luck and "uchi" is house. Basically, devils out, luck in. I accidentally hit one of my kids really hard on the corner of her glasses. Not so lucky. 

I got back on the bike and cycled off. Phone rang again. Boss asked me to come back.

Some people also eat "lucky direction sushi", also meant to bring good luck/health for the year to come. This is what it's supposed to look like - 

Mine looked more like this - 

I was instructed to eat it all while facing east-north-east and not talking. This roll was about 2 inches in diameter and 8 inches long. Rice, carrot, egg and some unidentifiable grey stuff. Ewwwww. 

I don't have a compass, or even a decent sense of direction, so I made a guess, sat on the couch and got to work. It took almost an entire episode of The Wire to eat the damn thing. I still wasn't hungry this morning. 

My Other Career As A Model

Today didn't start off all that well. I slept in, getting up only twenty minutes before I had to teach a class. Considering that it takes ten minutes to actually get to the school, I had a full 10 minutes to shower,  get dressed, eat, brush teeth and put on makeup.

Oh, yes. I wear makeup to school every day. Just like I wore makeup to work every day when I worked in finance. I'm not one of those people that looks pretty much the same whether I'm wearing makeup or not. I look hella better with it on. Not loads, just a bit of eyeliner, some pale eyeshadow and mascara, but it makes a world of difference. I honestly believe that when you look good people take you more seriously and give you more respect. Like if you've put the effort in, other people will too. Even if those people are three years old. 

So today was the first day (well, in a while) that I arrived looking a bit... ratty. Bare face, hair sticking up, slightly crumpled top, a loose thread in my jeans... ratty. 

It turned out that all my rushing was for nowt though. Yesterday (Sunday) was the local elementary school's concert, so today was a day off for the kids. None of my first class showed up. 

I was just chilling in my room, checking out the new games and stuff for February (hearts all over the shop I tells you) when in marches the owner of the school, armed with three 9-year-old girls and a hefty Nik*n DSLR. She asks me to sit down. She starts into a five minute monologue to the kids, then starts taking pictures. Of us. Me and the kids. No explanation, no directions, nothing. 

This goes on for a few minutes before she gets frustrated at my shoddy modelling skills and my poor rapport with the kids who had never seen me before in their short Japanese lives. Or maybe they had, from a suitable staring distance, but I'd never seen them before. She starts trying to get me to hug the kids, while showing them a picture book and asking them questions WAAAAY beyond their ability level. Them looking at me in confusion. Me grinning like a deranged freak. With sticky-up hair. Eventually she gives up and marches out. 

I found her later and asked what it was all about. Apparently, she was taking pictures for the school's advertisements. To be used in newspapers, magazines, leaflets, maybe a billboard. 

WHAAT? I mean, I know this is Japan. I know the culture is different. I know that you're not supposed to question your money-giver - but seriously. This is the first time I've really felt like shouting "This would NEVER happen where I come from!!" What the hell would have happened if I hadn't asked? My face would have ended up on billboards around the area, surrounded by my crazy hair and unprofessional clothes, without my permission or knowledge. 

I was PISSED OFF. In a normal (Western) workplace, your boss would - 

1. Ask you if you minded taking part in an advertising campaign.

2. Explain what it involved and answered any questions.

3. Warned you of when it would be taking place and

4. PAY YOU!!

Ok, I don't really mind whoring myself out to the Japanese public for the sake of the school. I don't even expect to get paid. But I would like her to tell me what's going on before she starts shoving her giant lens in my face and taking pictures! And come on girls, is it too much to ask to be given a day's warning so you can wash your hair and iron a shirt? Really? Is the messy bleary gaijin look what she wants on her school's ads? 

God damn. I'm annoyed. 

Exposed

I just found the site "Stuff White People Like". 

Number 31 - Snowboarding

Number 42 - Sushi

Number 58 - Japan

Numer 71 - Being the only white person around

Number 115 - Promising to learn a new language

Number 120 - Taking a year off

Even aside from the other stuff - sea salt, tea, yoga, not having a tv, grammar - I have never felt so transparent.

Although, I guess it's just my culture. 

Dammit.

Discipline And Other Skills

If you knew me, you'd quickly realise that I am one of the least tolerant people you'll ever meet. Not that I'm racist, or a fascist or a hater of animals mind you, just that if you put me in the same room as say, someone who genuinely enjoys reading out signs or wearing underwear as a hat while cooking dinner my level of irritation can easily go from zen monk to hissing cat in under ten seconds. 

That is to say, if you met me in a bar, slurring sarcastically about people's appearances while swirling my drink irresponsibly over your new shirt and dropping ash on your shoes there is no way in hell you would ever leave me alone with anybody's offspring. Possibly even my own. 

Somehow though, I have ended up frequently being in charge of groups of children. By frequently, I mean over 20 times a week. And by groups, I mean up to 15. And I haven't even killed any of them yet! Obviously, I've had to develop some sort of discipline skills. Otherwise one ends up with chaos - shouting, running around, violence, a nervous breakdown, The Lord of The Flies... you get my drift. 

I imagine that most teachers have ways of dealing with children who won't pay attention,  screech around the classroom and who think that a good friend-making strategy is a swift kick juuuust under the ribs (in an upward direction). That said, most teachers can speak the same language as their students. What I wouldn't give to be able to understand the kids. (Actually, don't answer that. What I wouldn't give is all my free time to learn Japanese.) Right now all I've got is a loud voice and an expressive face. 

Yesterday though, had to be a low point. I want to add, as a disclaimer of sorts, that I have a chest infection, brought on by a weekend of snowboarding. So, yesterday was my first day back at work after a two-day hiatus. Which mostly involved reading the entire archives of flotsam and watching Wife Swap online while chewing down antibiotics and letting cups of tea get cold. 

Wednesday is my worst work day. Partly because many of my classes are obnoxious and partly because I have to do four one-hour classes in a row without a break. Then another class. That's five. So, by the end of it, I'm ruined. Even without 500mg of amoxicillin coursing through my feverish body. (Before you say it, no, I wasn't infectious.) 

Anyway, yesterday, I finally lost my temper, something I've been threatening to lose with varying degrees of believability for nigh on five months. Yesterday though, at approximately 4.45pm, I had a total melt-down, directed at a pair of utterly horrid 9-year-old boys. They talked though other kids' answers. They kicked other kids. They kicked each other. They punched each others testicles at ten second intervals, hard. They mimicked everything I said in high-pitched voices, but with everything pronounced in INFURIATINGLY BAD ENGLISH. 

Eventually, I had to drag pull call the two of them out of the room and shout (yes, shout) for a full minute about violence and behaviour and respect. Y'know, because 9-year-old boys are all about respect. Not that they understood a freaking word of it, but I think that the fury in my voice carried the sentiment. It certainly carried it out to the office loud enough that one of the Japanese women who works there came scurrying out to direct me back into the classroom and continue the tirade in Japanese. 

Back in my room, the other kids were terrified. I'm pretty pale, but when I'm angry my face goes a violent shade of red. I had to play games for the rest of the class to get them to calm down.

Now, I'm fairly sure that the red face/shouting was partly to blame, but mostly, it was the fact that in Japan, corporal punishment isn't exactly illegal. I've seen plenty of teachers hit kids. Not in a whipping with a cane kind of way, more a thwap with a laminated flashcard or a smack on the bum. And by god, do the mothers thwap. I was horrified when I first saw it, but now, I'm glad of it. Before you all chime in with accusations of child abuse,  I don't actually hit the kids. But they know that teachers can hit, so once the temper is lost, the memories of previous thwappings come screeching back, and the kids behave. I suspect my discipline skills are lacking.

Anyway, the second incident came in the Junior High School class. I have a class of eleven 13-year-old boys who vary in ability from competentish to table. My best student is also a kid who, I can tell, sees me as a person. I'm pretty sure that there are adults in his life who take him seriously when he talks. He's a good kid. He makes a good effort to communicate, to translate what the other kids are saying and he even makes jokes, which is sadly, rare. 

Anyway, the kids were out in the office area after my class doing some kind of written work, eating microwave popcorn. I came through on my way out with an armful of my stuff, swooping down to steal some of this kids popcorn. Straight away, cries of "Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!!" I ignored him, and continued snarfing up the popcorn. "TEACHER!!!" I looked down. The half cup of cold coffee that I had been cradling in my arm had spilled its contents, drop-by-drop out of the lid, all over his white shorts. And his white shirt. And the cream carpet. I fished some tissues out of my bag and help him mop up the worst of it. Then I scuttled out. 

It seems my coordination skills are somewhat lacking too. 

Home

I know it's been a long time since I've done any regular posting, but honestly, it's been a little tough around here the past while. It's now been 15 days since I came back to Japan. I went back home for Christmas/New Year and stayed 3 weeks to make the exorbitant cost of the flights justifiable. 

The time at home was a blur. Apart from Christmas Day and New Year's Day, there wasn't a single day that I didn't have two or more appointments. By appointments, I mean things to do. With other people. Like lie on their couch and eat cheese. 

After five months in Japan, it was strange to be back. Little things, like being able to understand menus (a great thing), tv (not such a good thing) and overheard conversations (definitely not a good thing) were odd at first. I found the level of English I had to listen to and speak on a daily basis to be slightly overwhelming. It took about a week to get back into the swing of normal conversation. 

Not that much of the conversation was normal. Everyone just wanted to know about Japan and I found myself erasing all the bad things and raving about the good things. I told the same stories over and over until I bored myself. Nobody wants to know about the loneliness, or the spates of boredom, or the wondering why the hell I ever came to this godforsaken country. All these things pass though, and at the end of it, I do like being here. So I talked about that. 

There were things I had forgotten that I missed. Just the general, everyday banter you have with strangers. Like, for example, I was in a garage, buying gas and a coffee with a friend, talking about these boots I had bought in Japan. Opinion at home was mixed, to say the least. I was telling him this as we were waiting for the girl at the counter to stop applying lip gloss and take our money. He said he wasn't sure about the boots. The girl at the counter said "Don't mind them, I think they're deadly". ("Deadly" means brilliant, by the way.) I was stunned. A perfect stranger, butting into our conversation! An employee, stepping out of her employee role and offering an opinion! Wooo-hoooooo! In Japan, it's hard to get the local 7-11 girls to recommend a brand of canned coffee. I go there every freaking day!

Other things too, like not being the chubbiest, scruffiest woman within a two-town radius. I went to visit a friend who has just moved into a new apartment in a swish building. In the lobby, there was a woman in her pyjamas. She was wearing a coat mind you, because of the cold, and carrying a shopping bag. IN HER PYJAMAS! I nearly kissed her. I probably would have, except I was afraid of getting knifed. 

And then, there were things I didn't miss. Like public transport - getting anywhere was an exercise in frustration and disappointment. Not to mention the recession. Ah yes, The Recession. It will certainly be the topic of another post, but for now I'll just say that before I went home the global recession was something of a myth. I read about it in online newspapers and I heard about it from family but I hadn't seen it for myself. Going home assured me that it was actually, depressingly, real. 

It made me grateful. Although I'm worried for friends and family, and for my country, and the world at large, I'm grateful that I have a job. It might be exhausting at times, but really, I have it easy. I get paid a wage that rises by the day due to currency fluctuation (I still calculate my wage in my home currency) and my living costs are low. Mostly though, I'm grateful that I was born into a language and an economy that has made it possible for me to be able to be welcomed to Japan, with enough money to be able to fly across the world for a few weeks for the holidays. 

Altogether, I had a good time at home. It was tough to come back. There were tears at the airport and tears on the plane. But then, I arrived back into the bosom of Japanese efficiency and helpfulness, was guided politely from the gate to a coach to my town where I was picked up by my boss and driven home. 

And you know, I was glad to be back.