Today was a big friday for me, not only is it the end of another "work" week, but it is the all school festival at Koho. Part of last week, and all of this week, the kids have been practicing little speeches, getting together a talent show, decorating rooms, making pottery, painting stuff etc. etc. All for today. Now, I wasn't expecting much in the way of a blog entry for this festival, but I was wrong. It was, truly, a showcase in unintentional comedy.

Which is good, because I was in need of a laugh. Until today the week had been relatively dry, with the notable exception of last night, when I went out drinking with my insurance agent's brother, his friend Keiko, and two Jets. I was complimenting Keiko's nose piercing in a rather long-winded fashion until one of the Jets pulled me aside and whispered that it was not actually a nose piercing, but in fact a mole. whoops.

Anyway, about the festival. Before I go on, you have to understand that these Koho kids don't stir for anything. Last week, for instance, I jumped in to class wearing a vampire costume and I got perhaps one additional kid to look up and pay attention out of 5. A vampire costume. With teeth. So you can imagine what a rip-roaring audience they were for the festival. A few of them were into it, maybe 10 in the whole school, the rest of them sat there dead.

We started with a play in which several of the super shy kids starred. None of them wanted to approach the mike to read their lines, and several of them held their scripts above their faces to block themselves from the crowd. I turned to my supervisor and mouthed what are they saying? He mouthed back I have no idea.

After that came a musical set where my supervisor played the electric bass, and both he and the band were very good, but aside from a spattering of people trying to clap in time there was no response from the crowd. So you can imagine how I cringed at the end of the set when the guitarist threw his axe on the ground Metallica style. The crowd? Dead. He smashed his guitar and all he got was the same polite golf clap from the kids and majority over-50-years-old guest audience. Oh well, it was a nice try.

After that we had a happy-hands hearfelt sign language song and dance, which was humorous because one of the teachers was up there in a suit and tie and bright blue gloves singing about a candle in the wind or whatever the hell they were singing about. After that came the keyboards, they were pretty good, except for this one kid accidentally hit the demo button during the performance of a slow, sonorous number; All of the sudden a hip drum beat chimes up, and he freezes like a deer in the headlights. One of the other keyboardists has to stop her playing, get up and move over to this poor kid, and with a push of one button she stops the beat. Everybody was laughing at that, even me, although I admit I did feel sorry for him. I patted him on the back after the number, he didn't look worse for the wear.

Following that was a school quiz in which anyone and everyone who wished could guess the correct of two answers to several questions, the winners move on. About a third of the school threw their hats in to the ring, and were slowly knocked out in each consecutive round until only two remained. Both of them, unfortunately, lost on the question "what number question is this question?" I thought that ironic.

Then, however, my number came on. The coup de grace. You see, the kids had recruited me to be a part of this very fast, cheerleader style dance called Pecori Night. In fact, in the music video for this song (which the dance is modeled on) the dancers are all cheerleaders and the lead cheerleader is a man dressed as a woman. It has everything a super fast, femenine, slightly sexual cheerleader dance might have, including jazz-hands, spins, hip thrusts, hat throwing, ride-the-pony type moves, and me. Naturally, I gave it my all, which is quite a lot. I got up there with seven other Japanese kids half my size and shook my groove thang. At the end we all go crazy and cheer: I jumped about and almost tripped a kid right off the stage, thankfully I managed to grab him by the collar and pull him back on. When the kids saw me going crazy, they all went crazy, and the final seconds were a shmorgazboard of screaming and Spartan Cheerleader jumps. The performers all had a great time.

Yes, we were a hit (i.e. we, too, got a polite golf clap).

A lot of the kids at Koho annoy me, some very much so, but there is only one (to date) that I actually do not like, and am angry at all of the time. This kid is a fucker. He is a bully, and a jackass, and is all around trouble. He is also stupid (believe me, i know this, I teach him twice a week), and we all know that stupid trouble is the worst kind of trouble.

I maintain that I didn't like this kid as soon as I set eyes on him. Does this make me judgemental? Maybe. Probably, actually, but I'm a pretty good judge of character, and in this case I was correct.

The kid stared me down in class a few weeks ago, but at the time I wasn't sure whether or not he was vacantly staring at me, much like a cow might stare at the hydraulic punch that is about to go through its forehead before it is butchered, or if there was actually animosity behind it. I can't tell with his watery eyes. It was probably a bit of both though, because we don't like each other, and we both know it. That same day he popped off at my co-teacher. He has yet to pop off at me. I eagerly await the day.

Yesterday on the train I saw him ruthlessley bullying a fellow student and baseball teammate while six or seven other teammates watched and laughed. He was slapping him in the face. Whenever the poor kid tried to put his hands up, this jackass said to be strong, and pushed his hands down. You see, this bastard is the vice-captain of the team (god knows why), and also a starting pitcher. The poor kid (who sits the bench) put up with it, and tried to maintain his dignity and feebly smile (no doubt because he wanted to be a part of this fuckers entourage), but when I asked him afterwards if he was ok, he looked close to tears and said "no."

What did I do while this shameful display of alpha male bullshit was going on? Did I sit idly by? Well, no. I went up to them and asked repeatedly what they were doing. I knew one of the laughers knew english, so I raised my voice and asked him. He said, "its a japanese game." I shook my head no and repeatedly asked "why? Why is he doing this?" The laugher said, "communication." Communication my ass. What the hell does that even mean, communication? I guess thats what you get when you teach at a school half full of idiots. Thankfully, the train stopped and the victim got out with me. Should I have stepped in and told the jackass kid to stop bullying? Probably. Of course, there was a good chance he would have said no, and then what would I do? Physically restrain him? Also, would I be helping the poor victim by stepping in, or hurting him? Regardless, I felt ashamed at myself for not kicking his watery-eyed ass right in the middle of the train. I hated him and his attitude, and I hated the position he put me in.

Today I ate dinner with my supervisor, Obata. I told him about my ordeal. I asked him if there are a lot of bullies at Koho.

"yes." he said, "Koho can be a shit school. Fights break out a lot. Kids talk back to teachers. We have a lot of absences."

I've never seen a fight break out at Koho, but I don't doubt it. I've certainly seen the absence problem first hand. On monday I taught a class where a full 55% of the kids were absent. I don't have to put that number in perspective, but I will anyway: On monday, in that class, if I were to randomly choose any name in the roll, there was a better than half chance that the kid wasn't there. Where were they all? Who knows? It certainly seems that their friends don't. We ask them and they just shrug. This isn't a rare thing, either. What is rare is when I teach a class with less than four absences.

At dinner, Obata took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"I teach mostly bad students," he said, "kids that graduation means nothing to. I don't know how much more of it I can take, sometimes."

"When I came to Koho, I tried very hard to make them listen in class. But some don't listen. Some kids are monsters," He said.

It's times like that when I feel very sorry for him, and I wonder if the kids have finally just beat him down. He said he would report the jackass to his homeroom supervisor, who is also his baseball coach. I asked him about bullying and if a teacher should step in, or if it might hurt the victim even more. I expected a vague answer. I was wrong.

"step in," he said, flatly.

Hallelujiah.

I know the fuckers name now, too.

I can't tell you how many times I've wondered to myself, or asked aloud in exasperation, "where the hell are all of the young people in this town?" I look around myself downtown and all I see are old people. Old people wandering about the jelly sections of the supermarkets, old people riding those three-wheeled, idiot-proof granny bikes. Whats the deal, right?

Then I heard some disturbing news. The 2nd and 3rd year Jets told me that Toyama was a place where the young kids either marry early or they leave, they said that a full 1/4 of the population in this town is over sixty. OVER SIXTY! You would think that all the rain we get here would inflame their frail elderly joints.

I didn't really believe it up until a week or so ago when I saw evidence of this disturbing "get hitched or get out" trend first hand.

I had been in Uozo for the night, going to karaoke clubs and blowing hard earned money like a fool, when I looked up and all of the sudden it was 3am. My friend Jake turned to me and in a heavily slurred, Birmingham accent, said "we're going to go home, you can crash on my floor." I agreed, but by the time we got to his place it was 3:45, and its always at about 3:45 in the morning when I start to weigh my options as to whether or not to catch that first 6am train. I was on the fence until about seven more JETs came stumbling in to the 8 by 10 apartment, threw themselves loudly onto the floor, and fell right asleep over every inch of the room. It was now 4am. I looked about myself. Every single person had fallen asleep in less than four minutes.

Me: Hello?

No real answer. Seven people grumble drunkenly.

Me: Hello? Anyone awake?

Silence.

Me: Uhm, I think I'm gonna catch that 6am train, ok?

Silence.

Me: Thanks for the offer to crash though, Jake.

Silence.

Me: Ok, fun night guys, talk to you later.

Silence.

I got up and left the room.

It was raining lightly outside, and I had about an hour and a half to kill, so I walked about Uozo, got a coffee and some noodles in one of the 24 hour convenience stores, and was waiting comfortably at the station when these two hammered japanese kids come in. Amazingly, they look to be about my age. Naturally, they see me, and move right over to talk.

Me: Hi guys, how are you?
Drunk Japanese Kid: EHHHHH!! How are you! Good!
Me: You been drinking tonight?
Drunk Japanese Kid: Drink, Drink! Good! (rests his head on my shoulder)
Me: Ohhkay. Are you catching the 6am train too?
Drunk Japanese Kid: American?
Me: American.
At which point the Japanese Kid reaches for my package. And I'm not talking about the kind of package you get in the mail, I'm talking my balls and dong.

Me: Whoaaa, alright buddy. Eaaasy.
Drunk Japanese Kid: Come meet my wife.
Me: Excuse me?
Drunk Japanese Kid: Wife.
Me: How old are you?
Drunk Japanese Kid: 24. (He takes me by the hand and pulls me outside to a waiting minivan.)

I look inside the minivan and lo and behold, there is a tiny little japanese girl in her pajamas, waiting dutifully to pick up her wasted husband at five in the morning. I didn't know whether to be sad, or to laugh, or to tell her that her hubby just grabbed at my shlong. Instead I just said, "hi there, nice to meet you." She smiled in an awkward and sleepy way. I told them all goodbye, and went back into the station. Shortly thereafter my train arrived. I got home at 7am, once again.

Strange? I thought so, until I remembered the words of the vetrans: "you get married, or you get out."

What a town.

It has become clear to me over the years that the harder you go looking for a good time, the more it can elude you. I got into an arguement with someone about this last weekend, and I still hold it to be true. It seems to me that most often the moments worth remembering happen all of their own accord.

For instance, take the trip to Kyoto I went on recently. It was a well planned out trip, complete with great lodgings and cool people. What types of memories do you think I have taken away from that trip? Kyoto is a beautiful city, with millions of ancient temples and shrines and hidden ninjas and whatnot. If you look at a piece of wood in that city, chances are it's older than the US of A. There are kodak moments everywhere, and what do I remember? I remember how hilarious it was when I woke up at noon to find that everyone in my bunk room had gone off to see these beautiful temples while I slept. I remember returning from the shower at 12:30, in my towel, to find that somehow the door had locked behind me. After that we went to an art museum for a little while. I do remember one painting that I liked. It looked like a glass of wine, or maybe it was a woman, or something.

The next day I saw two temples. My camera died that first day, so I have no pictures of either of them, save whatever a few other JETs might have taken of me. I've forgotten the names of both of them, but they were pretty. They had little curlycue roofs and dragons all about. One of them was a temple to water. It had water.

Now, please don't misunderstand me here, I have a lot of respect for all of those sights, but I'm just not the one to go visit them. I am a pretty bad tourist. I get sleepy as soon as I set foot in a temple or museum. I look for the coffee shops and restraunts and prefer to sit and eat or drink. I'm perfectly content to wait for you while you flit about. I got nowhere to be.

If it was up to me, I could have eaten and drank my way across all of Kyoto and considered it a victory of a weekend. I can't remember the name of that fox-temple, but I can tell you how great that Pizza place was I chilled at with a few of the Jets. It was at the top of the station. You should check it out.

You want a random sweet moment? How about this one: the other day the owners of this ramen shop I go to several times a week took a picture of me with their little niece, and one of me on my scooter. I assumed it was all in good fun, a bit of a momento for their scrapbooks. I walked in the restraunt the other day and what should I find hanging above my usual seat? That's right, an 8 by 10 portrait of me sitting on my scooter with my helmet on. The other photo of me and the little niece was prominently featured, in portrait size as well, right above the cash register. Now thats something I'll be telling people about.

The other day one of my co-workers caught me muttering a cuss word during class, this after the kids sat in silence, refusing to repeat my phrase of the day, for the third time; "fucking crazy kids," i muttered. Now, I probably shouldn't have done this, and I wouldn't have if I thought that a single one of them could understand me. I know for a fact that very few of those children understand the difference between 13 and 30, much less a muttered slurry of words, so I was a bit taken aback by my co-workers response.

"Don't say that," he said.
"What?" I said, knowing damn well what.
"That word."
"What? 'Crazy'?" knowing damn well that he wasn't talking about "crazy."
"No, swear word."

I was confused for a bit, until i realized that he pointed out my swearing largely because he wanted to show me that he could point it out. Sure, he might have worried about the virgin ears of the juvenile delinquents (pshaw), but I bet he also wanted to show me that he could catch it.

You see, this guy is without a doubt one of the most entertaining characters I have met in my life, let alone in Japan. He came to me later that day and asked me to define teacher for him:

"Well," I said, jumping at the chance to be usefull, "I would say it means 'one who instructs'."
"No," he said flatly, "Not here."
"Well, what does it mean then?" I asked.
"It means Slave" he said, shortly, just before bustling off.

Today I was wandering about during an off period, bored, when I found him and an assembly line of students in the teachers room, fixing errors in hundreds of pamphlets.

"What is the pamphlet for?" I asked.
"Advertise for kids to come to Koho High School."

I sat back in my chair and watched the kids work. Obviously the pamphlet was designed to make the school look appealing the potential students.

"It's a lie." he said, a minute later.
"Excuse me?"
"The pamphlet."
"Oh."

a minute later:

"It's not just a lie, its a malicious lie," He said. He actually used malicious.
"Malicious?"
"Yes."

I sat back and pondered the insanity of this conversation. A minute later:

"It's like kidnapping," he quipped.
"Kidnapping? How can a pamphlet be like kidnapping?"
"We use the pamphlet for kidnapping kids, and the school fees are what the parents have to pay for ransom."

Don't you think this is all a bit of an exaggeration? In my opinion its the other way around. The parents will do anything not to have to deal with these kids all day, so they schlep them on us. We ask one thing of them: don't be disruptive. And half the time they screw that one up. My eccentric friend has it all backwards, we teachers have so little power over these kids its laughable. Its more like they've got us by the balls.

Every day I give the kids I teach a "phrase of the day" and recently I noticed a disturbing trend: the phrase of the day corresponds directly with what I am feeling at that time. You could catalog my day-to-day existence based soley on the phrase of the day I assign. It's uncanny.

for instance, the beginning of last week I was feeling pretty damn good. I had a three day weekend coming up, I was excited and carefree. The phrase of the day? "Take it Easy." I had the kids repeat it after me, and I felt my spirits rise with each repetition.

Take it easy.
Take it easy.
Taaaaakke it eaasssyy.


The next day was Tuesday, the worst day of my workweek, but I was still riding high off monday, the phrase of the day? "Nevermind" hmmmm. I see now that I was becoming distracted. It got even worse the next day when I assigned the phrase "Something's come up." What the hell kind of phrase is that to assign to a group of delinquent 16 year olds? Something's come up? I must have been spaced out. I imagined people coming up to me to ask me questions, and my dismissive reply was "ohhh, sorry, something's come up." I assigned similarly mediocre, flighty phrases for the remainder of that week, things like "forget about it." I admit it, I was completely checked out.

The next monday I was pissed. Mondays suck. The phrase of the day? "Knock it off." I told the kids that this is what I would be yelling at them when they refused to stop their inane gibbering. I said that it meant to shut up, and stop doing whatever they were doing. I got a little out of hand in the repetitions:

Knock it off.
Knock it off!
KNOCK IT OFF!

The next day was Tuesday again. Uh oh, worst day of the workweek, and I was slipping fast. I couldn't help myself. The phrase of the day actually came from my supervisor. I asked him how he was doing, he looked tired. He took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, and said "I'm fed up."

BING! Phrase of the day!

The repetitions were particularly fun:

Me: I'M FED UP!
Kids: I'M FED UP!
Me: I'M FED UP!
Kids: I'M FED UP!
Me: I'M FED UP!
Kids: I'M FED UP!

Now, of course, life is strikes and gutters, so things get better, and then they get worse, and then better, etc. etc, but it's true that these phrases of the day are like the mood rings of our childhood. I have complete power over these phrases, so they can be as insane as I want. Tommorrow's phrase of the day? I'm honestly considering "Is the Pope Catholic?"

Either that or "Big in Japan" which I looked up and found out is slang for "a failed act." Ouch.

When i was in elementary school, we would all gather around in music class and squeak out "If I Had A Hammer" about once a week, in our singing time. You all know the song, it elaborates on what the singer would do to the world if he or she had various tools. A hammer would hammer in the morning, hammering out love between everyone. A bell would do the same, etc. etc. all over this land. You get the picture. How the hell do i remember that, you ask? Well, I never would have if I hadn't had such an uncanny reminder of my childhood today in one of my classes. We sang another such song, one that the teacher thought the students might be able to catch because its lyrics were so slow. (Yes, the lyrics are very slow, and no, not one of the students really got it.) What song is this, might you ask? No, it was not Bang a Gong by T. Rex, although that would have been awesome.

It was From A Distance. By Bette Midler. As if the children didn't already have trouble staying awake.

Did you ever stop to think about the lyrics of that song? No? Well thats probably a good thing. I had to, because I've heard it three times today, and two more before that.

From a distance you look like my friend
Even though we are at war.
From a distance I just cannot comprehend
What all this fighting's for.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? That everything looks peachy from far away? That your friends are really your enemies up close? That while you can't comprehend the fighting from far away, you damn sure understand it close up? What are you trying to tell me Bette?

One things for sure, there was a little classroom full of Japanese students this morning in Toyama that had absolutely no idea what was going on, nor why Bette was lulling them softly to sleep with her talk of marching in a common band.

The other day, in an effort to garner more ideas about lesson plans, or maybe just in an effort to get out of any real work on a Friday, my principal took our English department to what amounted to an "open-house" at another Japanese High School in which ALT's are employed. Apparently, there are three schools randomly situated about the prefecture that are dubbed "SELHi's" "SELHi", hilariously enough, stands for "Super English Language High Schools." Honest to God. What a super name right? It makes me feel super knowing that super students have a place to go, that's just super. Anyway, the school we visited was one of these super schools.

Now, I'm not sure what my supervisors expected me to garner from watching the lessons at this fairy-tale land of a school, because what went on in those lessons was not what happens in any other high-school anywhere, to my knowledge, ever.

I don't know what they feed those kids, but whatever it is has made them obedient, brilliant, and quiet. Maybe its a horse tranq or something, like what they give purebreds. One word from the teacher and the students immediately gathered in neat little groups of four, evenly spaced about the room, each promptly took out their textbook and opened it to the correct page, then each took out their little electronic dictionary and propped it open on their desk, eager little Japanese faces (and one Australian exchange student) attentivley watching the ALT and his co-teacher.

Now, see, at my school we don't have textbooks, but I'm sure that if we did, it would take more than one word to get the kids to wake up, much less open their backpacks, much less take out their textbooks, much less open the textbook up, much less open the textbook to the correct page, much less pay attention to said open page in said open textbook, all without someone falling back asleep, turning to look out the window, or going back to doing their makeup.

Also, an exchange student? One with native english speaking ability? That just is not done at Koho High School, where I work. I asked my supervisor if Koho had ever had an exchange student before. He said we have a brazilian guy, but he speaks Japanese, and is in fact a Japanese citizen. So much for that.

So, after this little display of talent, I moved on to another showcase classroom, and as soon as I walk in the door I hear, in perfect english, a rehearsed dialogue being performed by five Japanese students...on Keynesian Economic Theory. Now, after the 15 year olds finished their powerpoint dissertation on Keynesian Theory, I, the degreed 23 year old, ran away to google it before anybody asked me my opinion. For those of you in the dark, here is what I found:

"In essence Keynes argued that markets would not automatically lead to full-employment equilibriumBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHHOLYGODWHATABORINGARTICLE.

And there you have it. Shortly after this another group got up to deliver a powerpoint presentation on article nine of their consititution, another for the merits of capitalism vs. socialism, and still another with a presentation on a mono-racial society. After each a group of kids desegnated as "the press core" would stand up and pretend to be from a major newspaper, and ask follow up questions. It all made me a little ill.

In contrast to that, I would like to give you a snippet of dialogue about the types of presentations that my class might give:

Me: Ok Tanaka, lets do your self introduction.
Tanaka: ...
Me: Tanaka, put down the cell phone, its time for a self introduction.
Tanaka: ... hellomynameisTanaka. PleasecallmeTanaka.
Me: Great! That's Great! Now, how old are you?
Tanaka: ...
Me: How old are you, Tanaka?
Tanaka: ... I am... jyurokusai.
Me: In English, please, Tanaka.
Tanka: ...
Me: 16.
Tanaka: 16.
Me: ...years old.
Tanaka: ...years old.
Me: Wonderful! Here is a sticker of a little bear holding an ice cream cone. Great Job!

Now, this is honestly the type of stuff that I do, and you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. Watching those wunderkids made me nervous. I don't like being trumped by my own students. Also, when one of the little SELhi girls burst into tears while we were all watching her give a speech, i realized that attaining that level of English proficiency at 15 takes a lot of sacrifices and a lot of relentless, driving work and stress. A hell of a lot of stress. Give me Koho High School, with its broken doors and its smelly patches of hallway, it's creaky, taped up chairs, and it's forty-year old desks anyday of the week.