じしん の れんしゅう

It was break time in school and I was walking back to the Teacher’s Room when I met one of the other teachers in the corridor. “Jishin,” she said to me enthusiastically. This surprised me as jishin means earthquake. “Now?” I asked her, she said yes, but then explained that it was just a practice earthquake. At that precise moment all the children, you see, should have been under their desks. I asked her what the staff should be doing and she said we should be checking that the children were under their desks.

We parted ways and I continued down the corridor. I passed a few classrooms with children diligently cowering under furniture. Then some kids came out into the corridor and said, “Nick sensei,” to me, I went over and asked them about earthquake practice. They said, “Owata,” which meant it had finished. I had no idea how they knew that, but I continued on my way.

When I got to the Teacher’s Room the Vice Principal was looking very serious and standing over the microphone for the school’s tanoy system. There were two other teachers in the room and they gestured to me that I should get under my desk. I did so and the vice principal started talking into the tanoy to tell everyone it was earthquake time again.

There was a CD player attached to the tanoy system by a long wire and after the Vice Principal had finished talking he pressed play. The CD was of an earthquake; it was the deep rumbling sound of the ground moving, with sounds of things crashing, glass breaking and buildings straining thrown in too. The tanoy system was turned up very loud and I could almost feel the ground shaking beneath me.

The Vice Principal was holding a stopwatch that he kept checking; there must be some government standard for how long an earthquake should last for. It was pretty uncomfortable sitting underneath my desk as there is a large bar preventing any from getting more than halfway under. I really would have thought desks in Japan would be more getting-underneath friendly as earthquakes or so common. I wonder if Ikea here sells desks and tables specifically good for earthquake protection, like a family size one with hooks to hang up your torch and wind-up radio.

After a minute the earthquake died down and the Vice Principal gave the all clear. Everyone got back on their feet and dusted off their trousers. I feel slightly more afraid of earthquakes now, but only because of the uncomfortable squatting on a dusty floor I know will accompany them.