Crossing swords

A loud 'NOOO!' roared out of my mouth. Everyone stopped and looked at me for a moment, "Time name the colours!" I tried to pip up in my chipper voice. I was taught I had to remain happy at all times-as no punishment could be bestowed on any children, as part of company policy. The kids ran wildly, and I looked pleadingly with the other male teacher for some guidance. Finally, he got up off his chair and told the kids to sit in the circle, and immediateley they did. This guy did have an extra two feet of height difference on them and his looming presence must have scared them enough to behave. 

What it would look like if I was standing beside my obs teacher.

They sat and listened for a few moments, then once again would run wildly, as I would shout in a happy tone, about what we could do next. The hour was going by so slowly, and all I could see was red pen being written all over my assessment paper, as I struggled to get control of these boys. How are you supposed to get control of a class, when anything unpleasant is forbidden by the company, with little terrors running around? Colouring time seem to help, the stopped for about five minutes, as I was trying to find my Happy Gilmore version of my 'Happy Place'.

Trying to find my "Happy Place"

About 5 minutes are left in class now, 'Thank God!' when one boy bolts in the direction of the toliet. "Where are you going?" I pathetically pleaded, "You need to finish your colouring." Another boy bolted for the toliet. I dared to leave the other boys in the classroom colouring, with Mr. Invisible teacher, while I went to chase down the other boys. One boy was already peeing, door wide open and the other one started to unzip his trousers. "No, one at a time!" I told them. He had already started peeing-crossing swords with the other boy-I called for help from the obs teacher. There was pee all over the bathroom, as these boys probably were new to the standing up peeing thing. The one boys name tag dropped into the toliet, while the other boy was still peeing and he quickly placed his hand in it to pass it to me. I screamed "Eww, No!" The obs teacher had to guide the little boys hand, clamping the nap tag into the garbage. Knock, knock, on the door from the parents! Ahh! We quickly helped them both wash there hands and put on their shoes in a panic. Then just as the parents came in, I stood there frazzled with a robotic smile and greeting bowing to them and praising how wonderful their little boys were.


NIGHTMARE!

The Mascot experience

I felt pumped, I could totally handle this and better yet he said the next class was only 5 students. I was grabbed my materials and had them all neatly in a row in front of me, as I was giving myself a mental pep talk about how I was going to be the best damn English teacher any of these kids had ever seen. I positioned myself at the doorway with a smile stamped on my face, as the door creeked open and I saw the first child come in. The other teacher standing behind whispering a reminder that he was only going to observe my lesson. I greeted the parent with my over practiced Japanese greeting phrase.

The little boy seemed nice, as he took off his shoes slowly and put on his name tag quietly. The mother shut the door on the way out and with the sound of the knob clicking shut, the little kid bolted for the classroom. I ran over to catch him when the door knocked and three other little kids started coming in. I rushed back bowed and greeted the parents sweetly, while hearing the stuff being thrown around in the other room. Shit, I glanced behind my shoulder and saw a sneering smile come across my observing teacher's face. He knew he had given me the worst class, and my fake smile faded-as I realized my fate for the next hour. The three other little boys were cute, on the outside, but again once mommy was out of sight, they ran to join in the chaos in the other room, and their cuteness quickly faded. I bravely walked to see what they had done, in the minute I had been away. The boys were running in circles trying to tag each other, while knocking down and throwing materials around the classroom. "Stop!" I tried to shout, but my tone must not have been strict enough, as they kept running-only briefly glancing to me to tell me, "I do know what that means in English, but I still choose to ignore it." "Ok!" I clapped my hands together, "Let's do the Hello song!" I rushed to press play on the CD player, as they stopped for a moment to watch me. I started dancing like the goof, which I was trained to do. A dancing caucasian mascot was what I felt like and soon enough would know the feeling, as so many beaten mascots have to endure. A little boy, maybe aged 5, with scruffy hair, came up to me mid song and kicked me hard in the leg. All the kids laughed now as grabbed my leg and squeeled "OOOOuuchh!"

My Mascot-like experience in the classroom.

I looked up and the observing teacher who just shrugged, sitting in the corner in the miniture chair gleefully watching my suffering. I glanced at the clock, only 2 minutes into my class and this was how it was going, not only was I going to be battered physically, I was also going to be failed on my assessment; and only 58 minutes to go...

The Hallmark Moments

I prepare all my materials, in the time I have left and pace back and forth nervously watching the time. Wasn't the main teacher supposed to come and 'supervise' me? At least this is what they told us, an hour before class starts the other teacher will come in for your first time give you some heads up about specific kids to watch out for and hopefully calm you down. I've always had a talent for seeming collectively cool on the outside, but on the inside I feel like a mini heart attack is taking place. I think my collective cool was wearing off as the clock ticked on, if the pit stains and flushed face weren't enough evidence of this, I don't know what else would! Suddenly I hear the door open 15 minutes before class is due to start.

Whewf!! I almost ran into this strangers arms to thank him for showing up to his job. He was a gangly, pasty fellow. Much taller than wide, with the classic 'indie' look. He was a typical Canadian bloke, although his monotone pitch, droopy red eyes and overwhelmingly calm state (in comparison to myself), made me think he may not just be teaching English in Japan, but selling marijuana on the side.

What the supervising teacher looked like.

The moment of truth had come the children had arrived. I was trying to hold in my excitement and nerves while poking my sweaty face around the corner and waving hello stupidly to the parents, as the other teacher greeted them more formally. I bowed several times more than I needed to, just in case, as I smiled and repeated "Arigato."

The Hallmark Moment

The girls lined up there shoes and stared at the blonde white girl, sitting auspiciously in the corner. The teacher ran the class, so perfectly that I was starting to relax and wanted to start teaching the next class. The cute little Japanese girls ran and played with this giant white man, yelling simple English at them. It was all so cute and could have easily been material used for some "Big Brothers, Big Sisters' advertising campaign.  I sat there compactly on my little chair, head resting on my hand-smiling moronically at them playing away. It's those Hallmark moments that take your breath away, right?

As soon as they came, an hour was reached, and they just as quickly left. Right it's my turn to rock this, I thought! In the 15 minute break inbetween each of the classes, I got a warning from the other teacher about what I was about to face...

The 'Real Deal' pt.2

The train stops I get off and take a look at my walking instructions, which are way more confusing and poorly written or hand drawn. Take a left out of the station (ok...but which exit?), walk for 500 meters (does anyone actually know what 500 meters is in walking distance?!), turn at the sign with the big yellow writing on it (seriously?) keep walking until you see a set of mailboxes and the classroom will be on the third level, past the barber shop (WTF?!)! Included on the shaddy two page bit of paper also had a code and a vague description of where a key box would be and how it worked to open it, which took me 15 minutes to find and another 5 minutes to open it. I started fuming! No wonder people need to get there 5 hours early because no one knows where there going! This had to be some sort of "Truman Show" experiment. I kept my eye out for the hidden cameras but found none.

I swear I was on a version of "The Truman Show" after the ridiculous trek I had to complete to get to this
classroom.

I finally walked up the narrow rusty metal stairs  and opened the door to find something quite unlike any other classroom I'd ever seen...

It was the most horrible classroom (and if you recall from my early writings I've actually went to school in Yemen)!! The carpet was stained, it smelt, the bathroom was dirty, the walls were worn down and attempted to be masked by a massive overkill of happy English animal or cartoons stapled to it. How could any parent actually drop off there child here and expect a good English education, when this was the environment we were teaching in?! I felt that I had entered into a cesspool orgy of germs and god-knows what else and was already feeling the effects. It was so hot and I turned on the A/C and a gust of dust smoked my right in the face. As I coughed and ran to the bathroom to get a drink-a large sign posted above it said "DO NOT DRINK WATER." Ah I can just imagine what state the water system is in! I opened up all the windows but the stink remained. I was far beyond annoyed after the atrocious attempt by the company to safely and effectively guide me to the classroom and then have me in a worse than third world classroom to teach in! The clock ticked on and I tried to relax and forget about the situation I had willingly put myself in. The time was nearing the observing teacher and children should be here any minute. My heart starts to beat faster and I try to mentally prepare myself but never could I have imagined what events were to follow...

The 'Real Deal' pt 1

The next day we were off, to embark on our journeys into the real world-to teach in an actual classroom with real Japanese children! It was all happening very fast, even though the rest of the training was moving slower than molasses. We were given maps and told to show up hours early. Why would I need to be so early, I thought, and soon I found out. Aside from our 50 textbooks of curriculum guidelines we had to take along side us, the only other aid was an actual company employee that would observe and critique our performance. Stressful!  I had the lowest expectations of myself and how the kids and classroom would actually run, knowing that I had micronapped throughout most of training, but I wasn't expecting it to go this badly.

I got up 5 hours early (as the company lifer told us he did as a ritual over the last 10 years of his employment) to be able to find the place and set it up properly. I had a pretty smooth, but still unnerving experience on my own, coming from the airport-so I wasn't sure what to expect with this. The classrooms are in the most remote areas and are not schools or big landmarks that are easy to spot, but tiny run down classrooms off the side of a road or in a back alley even (this is when I again questioned the credibility of the company I had signed a contract with..damn it!). I parted ways at the train station with Merran and wished her good luck. I had a false sense of security while being with the others that quickly disappeared once she left my side. I held my bag tightly and forward mushed, looking bravely onwards.

I jumped on the train, I think I was supposed to be on...double check... triple check the kanji characters match up and hopped on (I had two seconds of crunch time to be able to do this before the train departed). I sat there squeezed in beside several others, secretly trying to glance at my instructions at every stop, just to make sure I haven't missed it. I've somehow overnight become an obsessive compulsive checker! My paranoia about the horror stories and threats of getting fired and deported if I miss this class, made my stress levels start to peak.

My OCD state of travel to the unknown
classroom in the middle of nowhere.

Ok 8 stops away.. looks like my stop to change over at...I get off and check the train times with the matching skills, I was now wishing I paid attention for in kindergarden. It started to get more confusing, as there were several lines to take and different speeds and stops each train goes to. One is express only stopping at all the major points along that line, which wasn't mine, semi express is next which again has limited stops but more of them and then the local line which stops at every single station-damn looks like that's the one I needed! I eyed all the different jibberish strokes as fast as I could and crossed my fingers and got on.

Ok I'm nearing the end of my journey, well not quite, as it's another hour and a half on the train but at least I don't need to get off again, I can just sit there quietly and obsessively check over my map instructions. The classrooms are not anywhere near the main areas and I guess for the newbies they want to try us out on the real locals in the middle of nowhere, so if we really mess up-word doesn't spread too far...

Company Lifers

We successfully departed the bus and managed to find our way to the next secret location of training. The material in these sessions were as dry as having a mouthful of flour. My head nods up and down, but there are only 7 other people sitting cross legged, in an actual classroom that is taught in, so I could only get away with my ten second micronaps. I read through the alphabet and other colourful posters around the classroom about 80 times to try to stay awake. We were made to read up to 20 pages of homework each night, again on the most dullest, most common sensical material on the planet, such as: if a child does not want to participate in a game do not force them, encourage them on for half a minute and then continue on with the other students in the game, which was read out to us word for word! Even recollecting this stuff now is putting me in a sleep coma (maybe I've found the cure to insomnia, this company's training manual for teaching English)!

Real life people more disturbing
than the movie "Requiem for a Dream."

Our trainer that we had day in and day out (sigh) was only getting worse. Not only could he embody a full-on child (which is disturbing in itself), when demonstrating what a child might do in an acting out of a classroom situation, he seemed to be getting more and more excited about the material as we went on. The amount of wedgies and bullying this guy must have gone through as a child, was so apparent that the permanent psychological socially awkward effect was in full inflammation! He was a company lifer, as I've dubbed him, he breathed in and out the joy for working for a company, that he knew bullied him around and kept him well underpaid and respected. He even got on with Big B (if that was proof in itself for his LBH (recap: Loser Back Home blog) status)! It was cringing to hear some of the things he said, but at least the cringing part kept me awake at parts. I'd nod off, then wake up to him making heavy breathing noises and nearly bouncing off the wall in excitement for working at this company.  It did unfortunately, keep my mind occupied in imagining how people like him function in day-to-day living. I'd imagine this 90lb scronny man about 5'2 bouncing off the wall at a grocery store: "Gee boy only $15 for all these groceries, oh golly gee its my lucky day!" ....Cringe! There are things in life that are more disturbing than the most graphic horror movies.

We somehow found our way and we're barking back and forth to each other on which bus we needed to take. There was the stand we were at but there were several different buses leaving from that place. I was nominated, with my Japanese phrase book in hand, to hop on every bus that came by to ask (in my horrible Japanese) if the bus went to this particular stop. About the third time in the bus driver answered the familiar words "Hai"(yes). I turned around, gave the other girls the thumbs up and turned back to him. 

Japanese buses work very differently from what I was used to back home. Once you enter the bus you take a ticket (just like the wait tickets at banks with a number on it) from there you find a seat (it also seems that sitting at the front of the bus is the cooler thing to do, in my observation, than at the back of the bus). Above the driver's head there will be a light up board telling you the prices from stop 1-50 about how much you need to pay the driver once you get off. A very well-thought out system if you ask me. This was my first experience on a Japanese bus and ours seemed pimped out too! There was a lady that spoke at each name of the stop and a light that would move across another screen to say the name of the bus stop just passed and coming up. There also is another odd thing that you'll notice, the bus driver's wear Britney Spears types of microphones and speak the stop name and also say something once they stop at an intersection and drop people off. 

The microphones Britney Spears made famous, now on
shy, timid, Japanese bus drivers.

You really could never get off at the wrong stop unless you were trying too! I never figured out what the bus drivers said when they stopped, but found it quite interesting, as something like this, back home would never suffice. 

I'm not knocking bus drivers as it's an honest career choice back home, BUT there are a lot of miserable bus driver's I've met, in my time, of grudgingly having to use public transport. I can just imagine if they implemented the microphone on every bus driver the stories we would all be exposed to. I'm picturing an grumpy old man, that should be retired, looks like his cholesterol levels could reach critical level at any second and hates his job and makes sure you know of it (I'm thinking along the lines of Chris Farley in 'Billy Madison')!

The stereotype of the bus driver back home, which would
not be a wise choice to equip with a microphone.

What class act stories would we be exposed to then? This would never work. I'm sure the complaints would skyrocket from some of the foul-mouthed bus driver's, I've met in my time, that I could hear without a microphone.