Decidedly, we've had enough content about sadness and bummers. It's time to discuss some of the funnier aspects of elementary school education in Japan.
Day three went well enough, surprisingly. I was even allowed to leave early! Granted, they wanted me to leave so I wouldn't disrupt the teacher's meeting (at first I was a little upset that I wasn't considered a "teacher," but then I remembered that I couldn't follow 1/4 of the conversation in Japanese, and getting out early is it's own reward). Some of the students were classically causing trouble: shouting "Eigo wakaranai!" (I don't understand English!) in a funny voice rather than participating in class, getting mocked with nonsense words in a condescending voice (by a loud 9 year old, for Christ's sake!), etc.
One of the worst things about the elementary experience in general, however, HAS to be the lunch period. It's almost uniformly horrible. I'm given the same portions as the students, some of whom are 1/3-1/2 my size...the younger ones probably even smaller. And if I want anything more, I have to compete with the students! What's up with that? I'm on the same wrung of the foodchain as students?
(sidenote: lunch in Japan is WAY different than lunch in America. There are no lunchrooms or lunchladies. Lunch is prepared somewhere offsite, then delivered to school, where it is dished out by the students to themselves, in their classroom. All in all, I think it's a marvelous system, as it teaches children about food preparation and social responsability [if some kid is misbehaving, or slacking in his duties, everyone has to wait to eat] and it saves money because no lunchroom/lunchstaff are needed. Anyway...)
When lunch started, many students got up to get more soup, and I got in line. But so many students cut in front of me, that there was nothing left when I got there. So, I grabbed my plate and headed to the entree, some kind of terriyaki hamburger patty, and took an extra one - to be met with the horrified faces of all of the students. I was told that it was explicitly "Dame!" which means "taboo" or "unacceptable," for me to take the patty without playing ROCK PAPER SCISSORS against other students for it. Pfft. Whatevs, dude. I ate it, and it tasted fine, and I ain't never playing for my food. Not while portions are what they are.
Meanwhile, after the social humiliation (can you even be socially humiliated in front of a bunch of foreign children? I can't understand most of what they're saying about me, and they're possibly the farthest social group from my "peers," that I don't think I can get any more humiliated in front of them than I could a pile of rocks), the child next to me was pulling out the hairs on my wrist to show off to his friends. "Gross!" they'd say and laugh. Well, that shit hurts, dude. I started pinching him back until he looked like I really hurt him, but he quit.
I wish I could say something cool about dissuading a child using the threat of violence...but nothing's coming to me. Maybe..."Damn, it feels good to be a gangster"? ...Dunno.
Anyway, after getting out of school early, I made coffee in my new gift of a French Press/To-Go Thermos, took it outside to the dog park near my apartment, and sat in the fading sunlight while I read. The Brothers Karamazov. I don't know why I would try to try to enjoy the sunshine and be happy while reading Russian literature. ...It's so self-defeatist!
Tomorrow marks the halfway mark of the my "tour of duty," as well as Barack Obama's Inaguration speech. Coincidence? Doubt it. Bring on the change, in all ways.
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