Twice a year the school publishes a "Koho Newsletter" that details various comings and goings of the Koho community. Naturally, they make Obata, my supervisor, write and compile the whole thing. It takes him hours and hours, and he gets no help. In order to ease his workload, I suggested taking a column out to write what I call the "ALT Corner," which will provide the Koho ALT (provided they have any balls) with a forum to write whatever they want for years to come. I sat down, and was about to write a column entitled "making your life easier" with tips on how not to piss off teachers (no cellphones, no makeup, no picturebooks, etc.) when I was told that this was the "graduation issue" for third years. I quickly changed tack and wrote up an advice column to all the third years. Here is what I wrote (translated, of course):

Goodbye Third Years! You are about to set out on a great journey. You will find out about yourselves and your goals in life. Here are a few tips from your friendly ALT to help you along the path of life:

First, relax and celebrate! You have graduated from High School, which is a great accomplishment. Some of you have been relaxing for quite a while though, so don’t take too long, it’s time to think about your future!

Some of you will be going on to college, some of you will go on to technical schools, and some of you will go straight into a job. All three are noble pursuits. Whatever you choose to do, don’t be afraid to try new things, and don’t be afraid to change your path. The first things you try after High School are hardly ever the things you eventually end up doing. If you don’t like what you study in college or in technical school, change it. If you don’t like your job, change it. You have plenty of time to figure out a career. Try many things before you settle down.

Don’t tie yourself down with commitments. You shouldn’t be getting married right out of High School, nor should you be committing to any long term jobs. Make sure you are free. I suggest going abroad to another country. My experience here in Japan has been wonderful and very informational, it has helped me grow. Everyone should experience a new culture.

You are all young adults, so you should act like young adults. Be respectful of everyone, regardless of their age or rank, and they will respect you.

Finally, thank all of your teachers at Koho. They have all worked hard to help you succeed, and they are all great people.

Congratulations on your accomplishment!

-Brad


I gave it to Obata and he read it. He came over to my desk a few moments later:

"Hey! What do you think?" I asked.
"It's not very Japanese," he said.
"Well, I suppose not," I said.
"Don't settle down? Try new things? Not Japanese."
"No, that's not very Japanese," I had to agree.

"And I love it." He said.

"Really?" I asked, taken aback.
"It's a letter to me as well as the third years," he said, "I translated whole sentences at a time. It's perfect."

I tell you, this man was born in the wrong country.


In this same spirit, and due to the success of my first letter, I would like to, right here and now on this blog, write another open letter to those certain...'problematic' students that I have had this school year. Not coincidentally, all of them are second years. It took a lot of soulsearching, and some tears, but here it is:


Dear Second Years,


What the hell is wrong with you?

I'm sitting here, at my desk, trying to figure out where along the line your train jumped track and slammed into the fucking mountain. Was it I that failed you, or was it you that failed me? Because somewhere, somehow, somebody clearly failed.

On the one hand, It could have been me that failed you. I admit, I'm not the greatest of teachers. I've reprimanded you countless times, nay, even snapped at you on a few occasions. Perhaps my lessons are not the most interesting things in the world, and it's true, I don't know all of your names. It would have made it easier to call on you if I had known a few of your names.

On the other hand, it could have been you that failed me. I walked into class today and one of you called me Robert. The guy from last year. You get two huge white men, one blonde and one red-headed, in the span of two years, and you cannot keep our names straight? How, then, can I be faulted for not knowing 100 of you when you all look exactly the same?

And why is it that after I seperated one of you from another of your ilk, in order to keep you quiet, you started drawing on the walls in class? Do you know who draws on walls? I'll tell you: Cavemen and Monkeys of Above-Average Intelligence draw on walls. Are you a caveman? Are you a monkey? I stopped my lesson to keep you from drawing on the walls, and you acted surprised that I had seen you. You were in the front row, drawing big pictures on the walls, and you were surprised that I had seen you... Please. I try so hard to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but you aren't even meeting me halfway with bullshit like that. Perhaps you are a monkey.

And after two months of classes, before the final exam, when I told anyone who was missing any handouts to please raise their hands, why is it that I knew one of you would raise your hand? And why is it that when I asked you which handout you were missing, you calmly said 'all of them?" How can you expect me not to think you are retarded when you pull shit like that?

Maybe it is my fault, or maybe it is your fault, or maybe it is some complex mix of both that I don't want to think about right now, but there is one thing that I can be sure of:

I don't hold out much hope for any of you.

Sincerely,

-Brad