Chikan-ery

I was on the train, on my way to work, when he sat down next to me.

He was a bleach-blond Japanese guy, with a protruding jaw and and a typical Uniqlo furry-hooded jacket. I was deeply engrossed in my iPod and book when he tapped me on the arm.

GTA: *sighing, removing earbuds* Hai?

GUY: *inscrutable Japanese*

GTA: Wakarimasen.

GUY: Where you from?

GTA: New York.

GUY: What...you do?

GTA: I'm an English teacher.

GUY: eeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeh?

GTA: Eigo no sensei.

GUY: Ah! High school?

GTA: Iie, eikaiwa no sensei.

GUY: What station you get off?

GTA: *lying* Kichijoji.

GUY: You are Italian?

GTA: Um, no...

Guy performs his mating dance, which consists of bending his fingers backwards in a disturbing fashion. Despite GTA's shrieks of protest, he keeps showing her.

GTA: Okay, okay, I'm impressed! Stop!

GUY: *strokes own fingers* Bone!

GTA: ...yes.

Guy takes GTA's hand and tries to make her replicate his double-jointedness. She demurs, whch is a nice way of syaing "homie don't play that."

Guy is undaunted. He takes his own hand and strokes GTA's cheek reverently.

GTA leaps up, stammers a goobye, and runs the fuck out of the train just as it reaches Kichijoji.

I Fucking Love My Job

Seriously, I do.

Yesterday, I was in Ginza for the fancy-schmancy private lessons. Not only can I check my Facebook from work, but the people are cool, AND I have no supervisor. Hard to hate that.

Today, not only did I meet another teacher who was seriously cool, but I had several awesome lessons. I love it when students get in and just want to talk, instead of having to deal with the dumbass textbooks.

Granted, I'm new, but I am not complaining one little bit.

Children Are Kinky

I didn't even teach a kid's class yesterday, but they managed to amuse (and mildly horrify) me nontheless.

After arriving at work, I sat down to eat my delicious and thoughtfully-prepared konbini sammich when a little boy ran into the teacher's room.

"Hi!" I said brightly. "What's your name?"

He furrowed brow and stared at me, then looked down at my feet. "Purple!" he shrieked, pointing at my suede Jeffrey Campbell thankyouverymuch shoes.

"Good job, that's right! Purple!" I held my hand up. "High five!"

The child declined my offer of a high-five in favour of getting down and licking my left shoe.

I used to know a couple guys who'd pay for that kind of treatment. Why the hell am I working here?

Racism is alive and well

Today's Thanksgiving activity included a colouring page. Along with TG standards such as turkey and sweet potatoes (which the kids, being Japanese, coloured purple), a family was depicted on the page. Your average nice, loving, non-denominational family.

I watched the kids carefully, doing my best to elicit some English words from them. ("What's this? A turkey? YEAH GOOD JOB DUDE HIGH FIVE YOU RULE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!")

One kid grabbed a crayon out of the box and started chuckling to himself. As I glanced at his colouring page, I saw that he'd coloured the family....BROWN. The horror!

As the other kids noticed, they, too, became mired in giggliness. Once the original li'l racist noticed, he switched from a brown to a black crayon, causing the other children to go into leg-kicking paroxysms on hysteria.

Finally, in an attempt to rectify what he clearly viewed as a perversion of reality, the kid started covering up the printed family's ochre/onyx taint with a white crayon.

All this time, I had to resist using a yellow crayon on my own Thanksgiving colouring.

This is why English teachers drink.

What I'm Thankful For

Reading a Thanksgiving story aloud to kids under the age of ten has a few unexpected bonuses. Names have been changed to protect the generally innocent.

GTA: *pointing to pictures in book* Where's the turkey?

GAGGLE OF CHILDREN (GAC): There! There! Turkey! *assorted turkey noises*

GT: Great job! Where's the...corn?

GAC: CORNCORNCORNCORNCORN!!!!
Japanese children love corn. Actually, all of Japan loves corn to a frightening degree, but let's not get into that right now.

GTA: Wow, good job, everyone! Okay...Ken, can you find another food in this picture?

Ken studies the picture solemnly for a minute, before breaking out into a wicked grin. He points to something on the page.

KEN: BABY!

Sure enough, he's touching a smiling baby, who was sitting innocently at the table and totally unaware that it was on the menu.

GTA: What? Babies aren't food!

KEN: Haha, baby!

GTA: Okay, everyone, repeat after me: babies aren't food.

GAC: BABIES AREN'T FOOD!!!!

I'm a good influence, after all.