Telling

I had asked my company to let me be the one to tell school that I was leaving, and not let them hear it from the company or Board of education. This was because I knew it would be a shock for my colleagues to find out that I was leaving, having just started again.

However, the company had kept telling me not to mention anything yet because it might make my life awkward; the teachers might respond by trying to get me to stay, fighting for more money and a better deal for me. In the fortnight before leaving I had still not had any written word from the company to say that it was ok for me to leave and I felt disconcerted by this. I emailed the company to ask for an email simply to confirm that I could leave but their response was a little different.

I got to school on a Thursday, the principal was outside greeting the kids and he gave me a funny look - which for some reason I interpreted as there being something wrong with my trousers. Anyway, in school I put my shoes in my shoe locker and said good morning to Arai sensei. She took me aside suddenly and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like she knew I was leaving. I didn't want to confirm anything though because she might have been talking about pizza, or anything, as my Japanese is still not that good you see.

I had almost accidentally given away my secret weeks ago when the principal had asked me to write a report on all the classes; I had interpreted it as him saying that he knew I was leaving and was about to confirm it but fortunately chose to look blank instead until he said it again more simply. I don’t think that the Principal likes me very much; he doesn’t want to speak English and thinks my Japanese is much better than it is and this rather causes a problem. We talk about once every three months but I like him because he has a big round laugh that comes from his big round belly and echoes around the Teachers Room to make us feel like we are actually working for Santa.

This time though Arai sensei really did know, the company had called the previous day. She explained that only the principal and vice principal knew as well, but there would be a meeting later that day.

So the company had told the school and then not bothered to warn me of this. Aside from anger I felt panic because of this upcoming meeting; I had no responses prepared, no good ways of explaining myself in Japanese. During my free time that day I wrote out possible sentences I could use and then waited anxiously, wondering when the meeting would come.

Right at the end of the day it became clear that I had mistaken what she’d said. There was to be a meeting, but I would not be there for it. The meeting was to inform all the other members of staff but it was going to take place after I had left for the day. “Thank God,” I thought and made a speedy exit.

The next day...was awkward. As soon as I got to school in the morning people seemed to be behaving differently around me. I had no classes first period so I was in the Teacher's Room feeling nervous and avoiding all eye contact. The people in the office have always been kind and supportive to me and it was there that I sought salvation. When you go into the office you are supposed to say, "shitsurei shimasu" meaning "sorry for disturbing." The three of them looked up at me when I entered. On the left was Ishiyama sensei who is even younger than I am. In the middle was Shibata sensei and to her right Ito sensei, both of whom have good English and had always managed to make job easier.

"It's awkward" I said to all three of them, they didn't react. "Everybody knows that I am leaving, right?"
"Yes," said Ito sensei, "it was a big surprise." They all looked rather sad and I cast my eyes to the floor like a guilty kid and apologised. I explained why I couldn’t have told them earlier and that I felt like it was time to go home. This latter piece of news came as another surprise; they had assumed that I had found a new job in Japan somewhere. "No, no, no," I insisted, I didn't want them to think that I was abandoning them for a new school. That would be like betrayal.

Shibata sensei slowly began to cry. She hid her eyes with her hands and turned away slightly. "Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed in my head, "I never wanted this to happen!" I had been told that schools expected English teachers to leave, I had read in books that what seems like affection towards foreigners can simply just be politeness but all that came crashing down in those tears. It was one of those situations where everyone politely ignores the person crying; to mention it or to run away would be a mistake. I finished what I was saying as quickly as possible and made my way out saying, "Shitsueri shimashita" which seemed especially true this time.

I went to one of the few places of refuge in the world today, the toilet, and thought for a while. I felt guilty and upset; I had never wanted to make anyone upset over me, least of all people who had shown me nothing but kindness. I wanted to set the record straight somehow and explain myself properly. There was one other person who could help me do that, Arai sensei.

She had some time to talk so we sat down together at my desk; the vice principal was listening in too with a lack of subtlety. First of, I apologised for leaving and for the short notice, she nodded sympathetically. Then I went on to tell her everything; she too was surprised at my wishing to go home. She said that the teachers had assumed I would stay in Japan forever, that I would, "die in Japan." We talked about the job and she mentioned the previous English teachers at the school; there had been six that she knew of. Despite this high number though it had still been a big surprise that I was leaving, maybe she thought I was different.

During the breaktime one of the more fearless teachers came up to my desk to ask why I had decided to leave. I told her my story and this started a whole wave of other teachers coming to speak to me. I sit next to the first year teachers and when one of them asked me the same question I replied deliberately loudly so that the other first year teachers could hear too. Teachers from other year groups were straining their necks to listen; it was the topic of the day.

I made sure they understood how much I like the school, that I would only want to work there. It was just that I wanted to go home. I was being honest at last and it felt good to finally be able to tell them.

Shibata sensei and I crossed paths again later that day. She apologised to me for crying earlier and I said, "No, no, it was my fault," and I meant it. Then she said something incredibly touching, she said that she saw me like a younger brother. It was a moment of affection and in England two people in a similar moment would hug, but Japanese people don't often hug in public. I mentioned this to her and she gave a “what the Hell” kind of look and opened her arms. We hugged, and it wasn't a quick cursory kind of hug either, it was a meaningful one but it was interrupted by some kids who said, "Ehhh Nick sensei's mum?" Shibata sensei laughed and said "Yes, Japanese mother." Though it was funny, those kids had put an end to a really nice moment. Realistically though, moments like that are always ended by something and if not then they are just, sort of, hard to end; it’s the middle part that is most meaningful.

Everyone is getting used to the idea now, perhaps most of all me as the reality of my decision is becoming apparent. The kids will find out next week, and I really don’t know how that is going to be.

Heading home

So I am going back home.

I came to Japan a year and 3 months ago. I came, I studied, I travelled, I taught. Now it is time for me to pack up and go back home.

But after a year and 3 months of living a different life for yourself it is quite hard to pack up and go back to the old one. For example, I have to quit my job, which is no mean feat. Then I have to move out, pack, send things home etc. I have to close my bank account and send that money back home too and my god this paragrapgh is just a to do list of woe and I should end it now.

My company says I have to give them 30 days notice, so I did. I emailed saying that I wanted to go home and so would like to leave my job, etc etc. Their reponse was unexpectedly 3D. When I got home that day there was a call from an American guy who works as a liason between the company and the Board of Education during the week.

He asked me if it was possible to meet up, and when he told me where he currently was it was hard to refuse. He had, perhaps a little presumptively, made his way to my subway station. I agreed to meet and made my way out, grabbing my contract on the way.

I was afraid that the company might have some loophole to stop me from quitting before the end of the contract, which would be April 2009. I walked and read but couldn't find anything they could hold against me, still it was best to make sure. He had said on the phone that he would be "The white guy" at the station and I replied, "I'll be the other white guy" which was not something I had ever said before.

I was expecting him to be a smooth talking guy who would take me to a coffee shop and say, "Have whatever you like, it's on the company's account." If I couldn't decide then he would buy me the finest coffee there was, which you might think to be a deep and rich coffee made from the rarest coffee beans from remote fields in Brazil guarded by an ancient tribe dedicated to the overpowering aroma of their beans. However, for me the greatest coffee would be one laced with whipped cream, caramel, a sprinkling of cinamon, a chocolate flake and a name so long that I wouldn't even bother trying to say it.

However, when we met he said "So why do you want to go back home?" We were standing on the street at that moment, he appeared to be sweating and I couldn't really hear him because of the traffic. "Umm, why don't we go to a coffee shop,' I suggested. He nodded and let me lead the way.

The nearest place was Doutour Coffee, the one I had been to with Philip over a year previously, and had not been back to since. I get a bit nervous ordering coffee even in the UK, I don't really drink it unless I need to stay awake for some purpose. I don't understand all the different variations, I just want to be able to say "coffee please" but that doesn't get you anywhere these days. I let him go in first and he ordered something in fast flowing fluent Japanese. It was my turn and I just pointed to a poster and said in Japanese, "small please". The guy behind the counter looked at the poster and pressed a button. He asked me a complicated question and gave me a worried look like he knew I wouldn't understand. Philip had told me before that the coffee shop didn't like foreigners, but then Philip was paranoid. My companion at the time translated for me, I don't remember what it was now, but I said "no."

We sat down and I got to tell my story. I knew that his job was to pursuade me not to leave, he was like a salesman selling possible futures. I was deliberately vague and told him that I had been having a growing feeling of wanting to go back home and of having been in Japan long enough. He offered the word "malaise" to describe this feeling towards Japan, which was a good word indeed.

He asked a few more fishing questions and I told him about how I had been treated during April, as in I was forgotten by the board of education and had to reapply for my job and got a lower salary in return. He listened and then began his pitch, which ended abount an hour later. Incidentally he lived in Mito (about 2 hours away) and was actually looking for someone to replace him.

I annoy sales people because I listen enthusiastically with nods and noises of understanding. I lure them into thinking I am really interested and convinced and then at the end when they finally ask me what I think, I say "no." I told him it was a good pitch, and it was. He had listened to my complaints and offered some solutions to give more support and ways to get more money, like private tuition. However, my answer was still no. I told him that there was nothing that he could say to change my mind, but I appreciated the effort.

According to him the Board of education does care about English teachers, and so does the company. This was the first sign I had seen of this and it was too little too late, I told him. He sighed and told me that he had to call his boss to let him know the outcome of our meeting. He got his phone out and dialed the number. He began talking in Japanese and then switched to English. The call ended abruptly and he looked at his phone in distress. "Is that it?" I asked, meaning had the call ended. He nodded. "I didn't hear a goodbye" I remarked. The guy said about the person he had just called, "He said, if you can't pursuade him (meaning me) to stay and we can't find anyone to replace him then you'll have to do it." He carried on looking distressed and then added dramatically, "I've got a wife and child in Mito but..." he shrugged.

His manner and the strangeness ofthe phonecall made me think that it had been an act. Then he started to stare into space with a profoundly worried look on his face. I felt a sense of guilt rising in my stomach and then I thought that maybe that was what I was supposed to be feeling. Time passed and I couldn't stand the silence anymore. "I'm sorry, but this feels like an act" I told him honestly, "did you really make that call?" He looked surprised at the question, well accusation, he showed me the call history on his phone which said a number had been called just a minute ago. I appologised for not beleiving him and he continued to stare into space. I spent the time stirring my ice coffee, which by then was just ice.

The meeting improved after that. We talked about other things and he mentioned that he had family in Bognor Regis. He also mentioned how much he liked football and had recently wanted to support Bognor FC. He had found the website and asked a question in the forum about whether they could send merchandise to Japan. A day later or so they posted on the site that the team had dispanded and would be replaced by amateur players. He told this in an amused way; that kind of thing never happens to big teams, they just win or lose, but a dispansion is far more dramatic.

When we parted I told him that I had appreciated his attempt at getting me to stay, it was nice to be recognised by the company and Board of education. He said that we would meet again as his bosses would want him to continue trying to convince me.

Skip to our next meeting and he did his pitch again but my answer was the same. He sat back and sighed and said, "Ok then, tell me about your family, I want to know" as if saying, "Alright then so who are these people who are so great you want to run back home to them." He asked me about my friends too and the things I do with them, then he smoothly incorporated my responses into his pitch.

Then we talked about religion, movies and actors. He used to do some work as an extra in Hollywood and has met an impressive amount of big name actors. As we moved away from work stuff I realised that he was actually a really interesting guy and we agreed to meet again soon. He confessed that since he is just down near Tokyo during the week he doesn't really know that many people.

It feels a bit like enemies becoming friends, not that we were enemies, just had opposing wishes.

So the first stage is complete, but there is so much more to be done.