Today’s Oral Communication class started out just like every other; I was teaching numbers to the kids and they were taking it well enough, of course there are always a few of them that look about as enthusiastic as old dogs in the euthanasia ward of the pound, and of course there is always that infuriating couple that continues to play grabass in the back corner no matter how many times I tell them that they are failing, but most of the kids are pretty in to it. Numbers is an easy lesson. The kids can dig it.

We began by doing the “listen and repeat” section of the worksheet I’d given out, which pretty much entails me saying the numbers from 1-30 and then jumping around like an assclown while they repeat them. Number one rule of JET teaching: When all else fails to grab their attention, just act like an idiot.

Aside from the fact that nobody seemed to be able to get the number 12 right, ever, the exercise was going well, so we moved to the next section, in which the kids have about 20 questions, each of which has three numbers. I call out one of the three numbers and the kids are supposed to circle the number I call out.

So I start calling out numbers and immediately have to split up Romeo and Juliet in the corner:

“Hey, hey! HEY YOU! Did you get that?” I ask.

“I don’t understand,” the boy says.

“How about you listen?”

“Say it again,” he asks/demands

“27.”

“Again.”

“27.”

“I don’t understand.”

I shake my head. The girl, thankfully, has at least circled the correct number.

“See? She’s got it,” I say.

“Caesar Salad?” She asks.

“Nono, She’s Got It. I said She’s got it.”

“What Caesar Salad?”

I sigh and go back to calling out numbers. I note that my JTE has been watching the same girl in the other corner for five minutes now. No big deal though, right? She's probably just helping her one-on-one. The girl doesn’t have that great of a command of the language, so I think nothing of it.

I almost get to the end of the number sheet and see that my JTE is still crouched down next to this girl. I walk over to her.

“What’s up, does she understand?”

“She got them all.”

“What do you mean? I’m not even done calling them.”

“Don’t look at her sheet and finish up the numbers.”


A bit weird, right? But I shrug and go back to the front of the class and call out every number but the last one. My JTE is still next to this girl. I walk back.


“She’s gotten every one before you said it,” my JTE says.

“What?”

“Every one.”

“No way.”

“Yes.”

“She has this last one? Already?” I ask.

“Yes. And she has already marked her choice as correct.”

“She can’t know what I’m thinking.”

“She does. Say it.”

So I look at my options, think hard about what I would normally choose, and then change it at the last second. I call out the number. I look at my JTE. She nods.

“She got it.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, that’s not possible.”

This girl had gotten the worksheet, filled out all of her choices, and then marked them all as correct with her red pen before I had even said them, and she was right. Every single time.

“What the hell is going on here?” I asked.

“Could she have gotten ahold of your answer key beforehand?” My JTE asks.

“No, I make these things up on the fly. I have no answer key. It changes every time.”

My JTE converses with her for a moment. She is a painfully shy girl in class, always very quiet, and she doesn’t even say much in Japanese.

“She says that she can see the numbers before you say them.”

“See the numbers?”

“She says she’s not so good at English, but she is good at guessing numbers. So she guessed the numbers. It’s easier for her.”

“That is unbelievable. There is no way that just happened here, in my classroom.”

The girl herself is looking quietly down at her desk. This is no big deal for her. Meanwhile, the rest of the class has taken absolutely no notice. Not even a full blown psychic phenomenon can capture the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Gropesalot.

After class, when we are back at our desks in the staff room, my JTE turns to me:

“What do you call that in English? That power?” She asks.

“Psychic,” I say.

“Do you believe in it? She started marking her answers as correct before you finished asking the questions. She was sure.”

“I don’t know. I mean, she could have just been lucky, right? Really lucky?”

My JTE looks at me for a moment, contemplating.

“Nobody is that lucky,” she says.


I wonder if the higher-ups would allow a "class trip" to the nearest casino.

You know, to, uhm, to study numbers.