Strange Synchonicity

Today was midterm exams for the middle school students. They were all freaked out yesterday- a phenomenon I don't really understand, as these exams don't really mean anything. I've already mentioned that it's impossible for these kids to fail- "fail" simply isn't an option in middle school, as they're going to graduate no matter what. Essentially, middle school is one big prep class for the high school entrance exams. All the same, the cultural weight of the dreaded midterm is, evidently, universal. We had review sessions yesterday (I am the worst review-session guy in the world) and all the kids were, just like American kids, pretty much freaking out.

So today, while they labored over their examinations, I got to teach elementary school. Why didn't I post on this earlier, might you ask? Because somebody else also taught Japanese elementary schoolers- and I promised not to tell anyone until he broke the news.

So I gathered up my now-burgeoning bag of tricks and spent the day teaching little kids how to sing Bingo, play Fruits Basket, and giving them a 50% English, 50% Japanese introduction to America and it's culture. There's an aspect of teaching on your own that closely resembles acting- you put on the Foreigner Show, and rule #1 is to make sure these kids have fun. Everything else is secondary- they MUST ENJOY THEMSELVES. Even if that means they "enjoy themselves" by latching onto you like so many barnacles and using their newfound freedom to climb all over you. Today, I taught one class of first graders, two classes of fifth graders, and one class of sixth graders. The difference was amazing. The first graders were enthusiastic about everything. They sang, they danced, they compared hand sizes with me and rushed me at the end of class for high-fives and one last chance to swarm over me and touch a real, live foreigner. I should at this point mention that the kids out here in the countryside of Japan have likely never before seen a non-Japanese person- there's one other in my city, and she works the high school circuit- and as such a visit from Andrew-Sensei is two parts amazing and one part scary. There was a kid who literally hid behind his homeroom teacher the entire time, peeking out every once in awhile with a huge grin on his face. As a contrast, I had another kid who latched onto my leg as I walked past his classroom towards the stairs- prompting a wave of kids grabbing my hands, my shirttails, my other leg, and just about anything they could get their hands on (hey now!) and holding on for dear life even while I tried to stumble up the stairs. I looked to the teacher for help, and got the same response I always get in these situations.

A smile and a shrug.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth graders are much more reserved. They have begun to learn that it's not proper to show that kind of affection to a teacher- so even though you can tell they want to (the handshake is long, the high-five is often, and they seem to be constantly assessing you for possible climbing opportunities, like a mountaineer sizing up the next peak), they don't swarm you en masse and try to take you down Lilliputian-style. The weakness of every Japanese kid who thinks he's cool is the song, however. No matter how cool you are, you're never too cool to sing Bingo. Especially the clapping part- they love that.

Lunch was at a little shop next to Ritto City Hall, and after that I held a conversation lesson with the students and teachers going to Birmingham. Since they leave next week, this week was a review of the essential tools one needs to survive in America:

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"How do you say ______________ in English?"

"What does _____________ mean?"


Essentially, this week's lesson was "How to Give Up Gracefully." We also reviewed American gestures- which gives me a chance to quickly discuss a huge sign-language gap between Japan and America.

In America, when you want someone to come to you, you wave your hand, palm up, in the direction of your body. To have someone go away, you turn the palm down towards the floor and perform essentially the same maneuver- it looks like you're pushing or flicking the person away.

In Japan, "Come Here" is expressed by flicking your hand towards you, palm down towards the floor. It looks EXACTLY the same as an American "SHOO! Go away!"

As you can imagine, this causes me no end of confusion- and if the kids do it when they visit the States, they're going to get a lot of interesting looks. So we cleared that right up. Afterwards, a few students approached me with questions- how do you say ____________, will my electronics work in America, that sort of thing- and a pair of girls had me transliterate an entire English speech about Kendo into katakana- phonetic script that they use to spell foreign words- so they could tell the Birmingham students and teachers all about it. They're really working hard on all this- it's pretty cool to watch.

After that, the coordinator took me out for ramen to this hole-in-the-wall greasy-spoon style joint. In America, we have questionable hamburger shops- shops where you can buy silver-dollar sized hamburgers that are about 90% grease and 9% bun, and it's wisest just not to ask about the last percentage. Here in Japan, those kinds of establishments serve buckets of ramen. I am not exaggerating. The bowl I was served was as big around as a medium pizza. It was also six inches deep. And it was a "Small Ramen." The shopkeep had a TV on over the counter, showing the latest episode of Doraemon. My coordinator and I talked about horror movies and video games- two things that are decidedly mainstream in Japan. Everyone knows the latest video games. Everyone has seen the Ring. It's just the way it is. I name-dropped Katamari Damacy, and she knew exactly what I was talking about. Those of you who don't know it- google away, and become one step closer to understanding the Japanese mindset.

While we're on the subject of the Japanese mindset, Doraemon merits a little further explanation. This is the explanation that my coordinator gave me, when I had the typical "What the heck is this?" reaction to the television show that everyone else in the restaurant seemed enraptured by.

"It's easy. Doraemon is a robot cat who helps his friends by opening a magic door in his stomach that leads to Anywhere, and pulling out useful items. Like pirate ships. Then he takes them on adventures." And she said it with a completely straight face, like this was the most normal thing in the world. Doraemon is the Japanese robotic Felix the Cat. Doraemon has also been on the air for THIRTY SEASONS. That's right- thirty years of Robot Cat with Interdimensional Stomach.

Then again, The Simpsons is America's longest-running sitcom, and it features a yellow, four-fingered family that never grows older and recovers instantly from horrific injuries as if nothing ever happened. I can't count the times the Simpsons have been maimed and disfigured, only to have the next episode disregard everything that came before it.

So maybe an android cat with a hole in its gut that leads to Wonderland isn't so strange after all.