Hurrah, I have now completed two weeks and three days of my job.
The three days came at the end of the Summer holiday when I had to meet the teachers and start devising lesson plans.
Elementary schools in Japan, like the one I am teaching in, are not required to teach English at all. So in my first few days I had to devise my own curriculum from scratch and on top of that they have decided that my lessons are only going to be twenty minutes long. This came as a shock to me but I guess it is because there are 1000 students and only one me. However, I can barely pick my nose effectively in twenty minutes, let alone teach some new piece of language to foreign six to twelve year olds.
So on the first day I met the Head of English, Ooishi sensei. She is a nice 27-year-old Japanese woman who always looks slightly worried when she talks to me, though this is probably because she doesn’t seem to actually speak any English. It wasn’t my idea but that of Ito sensei, the man in charge of the Board of Education for my school’s area, that my first lesson should be about England and just have me talking for twenty minutes. My second lesson, he thought, should be about me. This seemed like a strange order to me but I wasn’t going to argue and so I got to work making my lesson plans on my laptop and drinking Japanese tea.
The following Monday was the real first week of term and in preparation for it Ito sensei told me solemnly, “You will have to introduce yourself to the students, and the staff.” We talked about that for a while, he told me once more to be “Genki” and then cycled away.
The weekend passed quicker than seemed fair and inevitably it became Monday morning. They wanted me to go in early that day so at about 8AM I was putting on my school shoes from my shoe locker – all teachers have to bring shoes that they ONLY wear in the school, never outside. I nervously greeted the security guard who eyed my foreign face suspiciously and then remembered “Ah, ALT” which relieved us both. Inside the school I immediately got lost trying to find the Teacher’s Room but managed to retrace my steps. My company (who hire me out to schools) provides a manual that advises making a big show of greeting all the other staff in the morning, but I was not in the mood for doing that in a foreign language and on my first day of a new job, so I snuck into the teacher’s room that morning and sat down at my desk.
Incidentally, I share my desk with the "Office lady,” but I am not sure which office lady she is because there are three of them. The desk is mostly empty except for a dusty old name badge, baring the name Wade Philpott – ALT. I don’t know what happened to Wade Philpott, but I am tempted to wear the badge and see how the teacher’s react. I have also been given a name badge but it is written in Japanese and contains my entire name. It can be quite disconcerting when little kids shout, “Nicholas Alexander Grills,” in my direction.
When the vice principal noticed I had arrived he ushered me into the principal’s office. I had in my hands the speech that I was going to give to the students during the assembly; I had it in Japanese and English and had been practicing it on my way to the school. Inside the principal’s office there were three other new teachers who all looked as nervous as I felt. We greeted each other, the vice principal left the room and the principal himself was nowhere in sight so we four sat silently together. In my head I practiced my speech until the vice principal returned and gave us all some pieces of paper that I didn’t understand one word of. I did manage to understand from his explanation that I was to be “number four” though I didn’t know what that actually meant. The vice principal left us again and the other teachers sat staring at the handout, I starred at it too just to keep up appearances.
I remember looking around the office at that point and seeing a clock with a boy shaped pendulum. The boy was facing sideways and there was a girl facing forwards to the left of the him. Whenever the pendulum swung to the extreme left it looked like the boy was kissing the girl (which is a sweet idea for a clock I think). However, the boy’s head and foot were both at the same level so it was impossible to tell if he was kissing the girl every two seconds or kicking her. Perhaps both.
I stared at the clock and pondered my situation. I was sitting with a piece of paper in my hand which looked important, as it had lots of times and dates, but was completely incomprehensible to me. I knew that at some point I had to introduce myself to the students and staff separately, but I didn’t know which would come first. This would have been useful information because I had different speeches for each so didn’t know which one to practice more. Nobody really seemed to speak English, I was just nodding my way through conversations pretending to understand, I was lost, confused and “number four” in a new job in a foreign country, sitting in a room with three nervous teachers determined to keep up an awkward silence. But the clock, with its two-second scenes of affection and abuse sent me into a sense of elation. The fear and confusion turned into an appreciation at how bizarre it all was and I smiled to myself until the vice principal came in and told us all it was time to leave.
Again I didn’t really understand him and so I left my speech in the principal’s office, but I returned for it immediately when I saw the streams of children heading down the corridors in the same direction – the typical assembly march. The vice principal lead us past the children and then into the gym. We were led up the side of the room where we stood with all the other teachers who were doing what teachers always do in assemblies – stare disapprovingly at everyone and everything.
There was a small orchestra on the stage that started playing. When they finished their first song nobody clapped. The conductor looked around to see how many more children still had to come in; it was lots so they played again. The music was good; even the kid with the wood block was amazing. When the room was completely packed with the 1000 heads and faces they played a different song. The atmosphere in the room changed and I asked myself, “Are they going to sing?” and they did. The only part of the song I understood was the name of the school, in case you are wondering it is Tomioka Sho Gaku. Sho means elementary. Gaku means school.
The music stopped, the orchestra left and the principal boarded the stage. He is a kindly man with a wholesome chuckle for a laugh. He talked and talked and then I realised he was talking about me. A thousand faces looked in my direction. I tried to smile at them and then retreated to looking at the floor instead. He talked about the other teachers but the faces were still staring at me.
When it was time to give the speech we were ushered on stage. I am glad I was number four because as you climb up the steps to the stage you have to bow to the principal, but it took seeing three other people do this before I realised. New teacher number one gave her speech. I think even from a distance of a few miles you could tell she was an elementary/primary school teacher. She has a mannerism that children respond to, a friendly and unthreatening voice and motherly curly hair. The second and third teachers gave their speeches and then it was my turn. I took the microphone, stepped forward and said “Good Morning” in Japanese. Thankfully the students responded in turn. My speech was basically my name, my job, my age, where I am from, what my hobbies are, what anime I like and thank you. Firstly my age caused a stir, I had to stop and wait for them to be quiet but I found it so amusing that I laughed into the microphone and from there everything became very informal and very easy. They reacted too when I told them I like anime, and games. I didn’t need to look at my speech once.
We got off the stage and more music played as everyone filed out. I was taken back to the Teacher’s room where I started working on my lesson plans again feeling infinitely relieved. At some point Ooishi Sensei arrived and eventually managed to communicate that I should be watching her class. She teaches one of the first grade classes, 1-3.
I followed her upstairs, her class all called out in surprise when I walked in. I stood at the front smiling at them while Ooishi sensei introduced me and then looked at me in that way which means, “say something!” I had nothing new to say so I just sort of repeated what I had already told them ten minutes ago. I was then gestured to sit at the back of the classroom on a stool by myself.
There were a few surprises, some very noticeable like the fact that the students don’t have to wear uniform. Other surprises crept up on me during the day with different degrees of subtlety. For example, at the start of the lesson Ooishi sensei stood at the front of the class with a straightened back and stern expression. Eventually the class settled down to an absolute silence, nobody moved and nobody spoke. Yet still Ooishi sensei continued to stand straight and stern and I wondered if time had stopped. Then, from the corner of the room a quiet voice said something in Japanese and all the other students repeated it in unison. This happened again, but this time all the students bowed at Ooishi sensei as they chanted. I now know that this happens at the start and end of each class, the students formally ask the teacher to begin the lesson and then thank them at the end. It's rather nice.
The Japanese have a reputation for being very hard working and serious. However, when I saw how many of the students got up and started walking around the classroom talking to their friends during the lesson I began to wonder about that reputation. Where in British schools the six year old children would have already been in school for two or three years, would be wearing identical clothes and having to work quietly, Japanese kids are actually allowed to be children. They still did their work, there was a line of kids queuing up to Ooishi sensei’s desk so she could check their work, meanwhile the children who had already finished started doing a conga around the classroom with laughs and giggles, falling over chairs and tables with glee.
And then, in my mind, a sense of culture shock began to grow.
The end of the lesson came; the kids thanked Ooishi sensei and then settled. Music began to play from a speaker near the ceiling but it wasn’t the school song this time, it was some other cheerful sounding piece. Again there was an atmosphere were I asked myself, “are they going to sing?” and again they did. My stool was near one of the sliding doors to the classroom and I could hear the neighbouring classes singing the same song. Throughout the whole school the sound of children’s singing echoed from every classroom in unison. And then I swear there was a siren noise as if there was an earthquake but nobody seemed to bat an eyelid or do anything about it. And then they came for me.
The lesson was over, it was now break time. Nervously, at first, some of the kids walked up to me and just stared. Some asked me questions in Japanese that I half understood. As more of them crowded around me they got more confident and thus began the prodding of Nick Sensei. My nose was the first target, and has remained my most interesting feature to them since. The first child to explore my nose pressed it down as if expecting it to switch into the “off” position and cause me to shut down. They said “Hana ga takei” – nose is big. This is now a phrase I hear most days. The others took turns to prod my hana and giggled as they did so. Some of them started prodding my shoes and one girl even put her hand into the sweaty armpit of my shirt. My manual says that I am not allowed to touch any of the children, the logic of which I can understand but the reality is that I had to sit there while they prodded and poked. I smiled and felt at least relieved that they weren’t afraid of me.
The next lesson was much the same but I got very bored and sleepy. I was just sitting at the back uselessly, sometimes a kid would turn around to see what I was doing and I would smile at them, but that was the only highlight. In the third lesson, however, we all took a trip to the library. Ooishi sensei led the line of kids and I walked amongst them. They talked to me, held my hand and it was all very nice. However, lining up outside the library I experienced for the first time something known as “kanjo.” It began when I felt a hand on my behind, which I decided to ignore because I thought that if I didn’t react then they would stop doing it since there was no response. However, then they went straight for the middle and lets just say that kanjo describes a medical procedure normally only performed by doctors. I moved my hands into a defensive position but this seemed only to encourage the six-year-old boys standing in line behind me.
When we got into the library I sat down on the floor with the kids and was safe, for a while. Some of the children sitting behind me took up their attacks once more and this time I had to say sternly “Dame desu” which was the harshest way of saying “no” that my Japanese conversation course had taught me – they had neglected to cover situations like this. I was nervous saying it because I wasn’t sure how much of a telling off I was giving them. They reacted by laughing at me but thank Christ it did the trick and I now don’t have to walk everywhere with my back to the wall.
In the library the librarian began talking about all the new books the school had purchased. A book about insects and another about dinosaurs caused the biggest stirs of excitement. After that it was time to choose a book and do some silent reading. I choose a big book about animals and sat a bit away from most of the students to get some kanjo recovery time, and learn the Japanese name for a Northern fox.
Culture shock was definitely growing in my mind. I started longing for schools with bells rather than songs, where kids don’t know the Conga and have absolutely no interest in the noses and crevices of new teachers.
That day ended early for the children and I said goodbye to them all and made my way down to the Teacher’s Room. There was no school lunch that day so I went out to a convenience store to buy some vegetable sushi. I sat alone at my desk staring at my laptop and eating. Some of the other teachers were on the other side of the classroom eating together and one teacher with pretty good English invited me to sit with them. I went over and they asked me questions about when and why I came to Japan and suchlike. This helped to make things less awkward as I felt very much an outsider amongst the teachers.
Later on I was thirsty and looked around the reception area for a drinks machine. I asked one of the office ladies about this and she said the school had no drinks machines. She then showed me a small room with a sink, fridge and suchlike. She explained that I needed to bring a “my cup” and write my name on the bottom, then place it on the extreme right of a certain shelf. I could drink water from the tap or Japanese tea from a dispenser in the Teacher’s Room but if I wanted coffee I would have to pay 1000 yen, which also got me an afternoon treat like a biscuit. I had no cup so asked if I could use one on the shelf, the office lady looked begrudging and I could see that asking to borrow a mug was a very awkward request.
Culture shock.
She eventually said yes and handed me a cup explaining that it was “just for today.”
In the afternoon there was a meeting and this was where I had to introduce myself to the staff. There are probably about thirty teachers in the school, each with their own desk ranked by their individual importance. For example, the vice principal and two other important people sit just outside the principal’s office. Then the line of desks extends from people with specific duties down to ordinary Home Room Teachers and suchlike. I am the least important person in the school by far but ironically my desk, being the office ladie’s, is very close to the vice principal’s desk. During the meetings one teacher is chairperson and each member of staff takes turns to stand and deliver their news, at the end of which they say the name of the chair person who introduces the next speaker. I had to learn all this very quickly. The chairperson called my name, I stood and gave the version of my speech for the staff members. However, the start was much the same as the speech for children and the principal laughed at how he had heard it before and this put me off. So my speech to the staff was a bit of a shambles in the end but it didn't matter, they clapped and I felt welcomed.
Five months of living in Japan had not caused me as much culture shock as that one solitary day. I liked the children, I could get a rapport with them, but everything else was just so different and I couldn’t relax till I was back where things made sense. Outside the school, walking along the street the rules are the same the world over, just walk forwards, don’t stare at people and don’t sing too loud. Simple.
