Unlike most dorky white guys that show up in Japan I got married to a hot Asian woman BEFORE I came here. What kind of job can two American gaijin (foreigners) get in Japan without knowing much Japanese? Teaching English of course! Although we are both teachers we're the ones learning all sorts of strange and interesting life lessons from Japan.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Starting Over

The new school year has begun. I bore witness as the incoming 1st graders at Big Rice Field Elementary endured an onslaught of identical inspirational speeches by PTA members and board of education cronies during the opening ceremony. Making six year olds sit and listen to grown ups prattle on for over two hours is asinine. At least during the copious bowing sessions before and after every speech the tykes got to stretch their little limbs, this helped to prevent some fidgeting. The whole ceremony seemed like one big fat excuse to dress up the little ones in suits and skirts to take a million pictures.

While the last class of 1st graders were marching out of the gym a little boy from the kindergarten I taught at recognized me. I saw his eyes widen with a sparkle of recognition as he stopped in mid march holding up the procession behind him. Jumping up and down and flailing his arms the boy screams, “MICHAEL SENSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEI!!!!!!!!!!” 500 heads swoop around, incredulously staring me down. “Uhhh… Helloooo!” I respond, sending the boy a lackadaisical wave. The thrilled smiling child marches on flapping like a bird and proclaiming to those nearest that I am Michael Sensei.

One third of the staff at every elementary school this year are new to the school. In Japan it’s mandatory that teachers switch schools every five years or so to keep them fresh and cagey. In addition to the new staff all the returning teachers change the grade from the one they taught last year. I have to meet about 40 new teachers and the ones I do know are now teaching a different grade. I’m pretty much starting over from scratch.

No matter how small the school every one of them has a principal a vice principal and a 3rd principal. This 3rd principal is generally quite an unhappy person who does all the shit work. One of these shitty jobs forced upon the principal's backup’s backup at the Ghost School is to “help” the ALT (that’s me) plan the next week’s English lesson. Last year the 3rd principal would put off the dreaded deed until the last few minutes before I could leave, take a laboriously deep sigh, and talk down to me in broken English about a lesson I had done at least half a dozen times already. Like most everyone at the Ghost School he refused to believe I knew any Japanese and would close his ears to anything I said. Instead he would muddle through with wild gestures and a smattering of one word English questions and answers. I would tell the peevish middle age man that, “I’m sorry I can’t understand you” but he plowed on anyway.

This year the 3rd principal from the Ghost School holds the same position at Big Rice Field. Thankfully he is NOT the one telling me what lessons to do. At BRF people treat me like a human being and I chat, joke, and get along with everyone in the teacher’s room just fine. With this friendly atmosphere around me the new 3rd principal could plainly see which way the wind was blowing. While I’m conversing with a new teacher the fraud jumps in to exclaim, “Wow! I didn’t know you could speak Japanese! We worked at the Ghost School together and now it’s a pleasure to work with you here!” I wanted to wipe the man’s conceited smirk right off his face. I wanted to tell everybody just what an asshole he is. Eight months of talking down to me, rolling his eyes at me, and exuding exasperated gasps of annoyance every time I’d walk into the room and suddenly NOW we are supposed to be all buddy buddy. I felt sick. I gave the 3rd principal my biggest fake smile and said, “THIS YEAR lets all get along and work hard together.”

Unfortunately it would only make me look bad to say anything negative, especially about a superior. I’m just really really annoyed when people treat others better or worse because of what their peers think instead of being civil to everyone. The 3rd principal has made my list of frauds right under Mister Smiley.

Since I have more experience I can now dominate all the new English “helpers” because I’ve just about done every lesson there is to do for Elementary school. Telling the helpers that I’ve done a lesson multiple times and I already have the materials ready makes most meetings a breeze. Of course I have to constantly reassure the helper that if they have any input to please tell me and I say things like, “This is what I would do, what do you think?” Japanese always have to come to a consensus during meetings; it’s never supposed to be one person telling the other what to do. Consequently meetings that should take 5 minutes drag ass for half an hour as I go through every step of the lesson that the helper was supposed to be teaching me.

At city hall there was a big shake up where many elderly teachers were asked (told) to move on (retire or get fired) because older teachers cost much much more then new ones. A 22 year old girl just three weeks out of college started at Big Rice Field. She is kinda cute which means she has the attention of all the male staff. This also means she is incurring the wrath of some of the old jealous teachers as well. She’ll have a tough time this year.

At three other schools three new male teachers have started their teaching careers. At the Love School one these boy’s sits across from me named Mr. Y. Mr. Y sits to the left of Mrs. S who is about 30 years his senior.

The first day of the school year Mrs. S introduces me to Mr. Y by pointing to him and using English I never knew she possessed says, “He is fresh boy! Verrrry FRESH!” and pinches both the fresh boy’s cheeks while blowing a kiss. Mr. Y takes the abuse like the fresh boy that he is. The older ladies at the other schools use the same “fresh boy” expression about their new male teachers too. It’s more like “fresh meat” as the cougars pinch and prod these fresh boys mercilessly much to their unabashed titillation. Never mind about the young lady at BRF having a tough time, I fear for these young men.

A beaming Big Rice Field principal hustled me over to the white and red tiles that all teachers flip over to indicate if they are at the school. White means here, red means gone. He then presented me with my very own tile. I slowly turned the white side of my tile over to reveal a blinding flash of bright hot neon pink. Pink? Pink! Like 80’s lipstick or a shiny new lawn flamingo, gaudy, flashy, trashy pink. What the bullcrap! “Why is my tile pink and not red like everyone else’s?” I questioned. “Hmmmm… who knows” says the principal and walks away. Total brush off. I think my name stands out enough as it is the only one written in katakana instead of kanji, but no someone had to make sure my tile could glow in the dark. On one hand I’m happy I’m being accepted and have a tile like everyone else… but why does mine have to be a beacon of flashing pink in a sea of white and red. Damn little differences.

Most of Kim’s 1st year students at the junior high are 6th graders I taught last school year. Warui Chugakou: where decent kids are turned into little bastards. I neglected (on purpose) to tell my former students that my wife would be their new ALT at junior high school. When Kim broke the news to them a deafening, “EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” echoed throughout the halls. Kim and the homeroom teacher busted up laughing because the exasperated students could only gape and utter “ehhhhh” for another 5-10 minutes. Most students seem to think I come from outer space and live under the earth, only digging out of my mole cavern long enough to teach the surface dwellers English. When a student sees me buying groceries or walking to the train station they are shocked to see that I’m a normal person who lives in their town. So finding out I am married AND my wife is their new ALT was just too much for them to comprehended all at once.

I think this year will be better then last year. Not that last year was too bad but now I’ve got Japanese teaching experience and can work the system instead of letting the system work me.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

The Great Japanese Pervert

I was having a bad day at the Ghost school. Not that things were worse than usual there, just the hypocritical bullshit was really getting to me yesterday. Lunchtime finally comes. A welcome respite? Hardly. 41 bastard 6th graders, formally the bastard 5th graders, screaming, fighting and throwing food is not my ideal mealtime break.

Every day I eat lunch with students I’m bombarded by, “how do you say ____ in English” questions. Most are cute and harmless.

Student: “How do you say ‘bara’ in English?”
Me: “Rose.”

Some are funny.

Student: “How do you say ‘supidaamaan’ in English?”
Me: “Spiderman.”

Without fail the upper grades at the Ghost School skip the cute and funny questions and only ask me to translate dirty words into English. Normally I swat the persistent buggers away, keeping tight-lipped even when they go from asking in Japanese to acting out what body part or sexual act they want to me interpret for them.

The most tenacious pantomime artist in the class has the self-asserted moniker ‘Great Japanese Pervert.’ The Great Japanese Pervert shouts to whomever will listen, “I am the Great Japanese Pervert! I am more perverted than anyone!” GJP has a rival though; I’ll call him Tiny Japanese Pervert since he is also the smallest boy in class and at nowhere near the level of perversion or intensity as GJP. TJP also proclaims his extreme pervasion, but is rudely shouted down by GJP and his fiery desire to remain the alpha class pervert. Just to remind you these kids are twelve.

This type of behavior does not shock me anymore. I see old men on trains blatantly ogling porn mags, tilting the pages just so to get better angles of the nude pictorials. Women and children close by bother them nary a whiff. In Tokyo enormous quantities of lolita and other disturbing material are located in eight story brand name book stores readily available to all. Japanese admit to being perverts and ‘bad men’ because there isn’t a huge stigma against it and most just don’t care. Some just start younger than others.

After much pelvis thrusting harassment Great Japanese Pervert asks me, “How do you say ‘great Japanese pervert’ in English?” I was in no mood yesterday to feign ignorance and have to endure his shenanigans. I told him. GJP is thrilled to hear his title spoken in English and he practices, “great Japanese pervert” several times to get it just right.

Next GJP asks me to translate testicles. I oblige by saying, “balls.” Ball in Japanese is the same as in English, i.e. soccer ball = saaka baaru. GJP and many other boys nearby find this absolutely hilarious and scream, “baaru baaru” while grabbing their crotches.

Now GJP goes on to proclaim himself perverted in English as well as in Japanese. “I am the Great Japanese Pervert! I have big balls!” (*English in Italics ) Pointing to random boys, GJP sentences them, “YOU have small balls!” YOU have small balls!” Then shoving a finger in Tiny Japanese Pervert’s face, “YOU have VERY small balls!” TJP takes a few swipes at GJP but he dodges easily. In full form GJP bounces about handing down several more small balls decrees.

GJP snatches two rubber basketballs from the back of the room and places them in front of his crotch screaming, “I AM THE GREAT JAPANESE PERVERT. I HAVE BIG BALLS! TJP sees an opening and strikes, punching GJP’s left rubber ball with all his miniature might. GJP crumples like an origami swan in a typhoon. TJP tries to steal the basketballs out from under GJP limp grip, but he will not part with his treasured orbs without a fight. Finally TJP extricates the balls and triumphantly declares, “I am the Great Japanese Pervert I have big balls.”

The short-lived reign of the Great Japanese Pervert is over; long live the Great Japanese Pervert.

I usually don’t slip this badly, but I'm not upset about teaching these children dirty English either. The homeroom teacher was laughing his ass off all the way through Great Japanese Pervert #1’s antics and the bastard boys are always grabbing each other’s balls anyway. No matter what language one uses these kids are perverts.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Korea \ ^_^ /

South Korea is the forgotten country that most western travelers only journey to after Japan and China. During our six-day spring vacation in Seoul Kim and I didn’t see one tourist younger than us. Seoul reminds me of a gritty Tokyo five years in the past but with a vibrant energy of its own. My original perception of Koreans was that they are very similar to the Japanese. This was of course before our trip. In Korea the food, the people, and the culture are all unique and a refreshing change from living in Japan.

One of the first things I noticed is that Koreans are BIG. A lot of younger men were my height or taller and most women towered over poor Kim who at 5’3” it turns out is on the runty side for being Korean. Maybe it’s all the meat in their diet, but it’s inspirational to see that Korean women aren’t striving to become emaciated walking sticks like their female counterparts in Tokyo.

Koreans aren’t afraid to show their emotions. I was witness to a least half a dozen screaming matches by irate customers and quarreling couples and was rudely shoved several times on the subway. On the flip side many Koreans I met had eager smiles and an easy laugh.

In Japan I get stared at a lot, in Korea not so much. The one who got stared at ALL THE TIME was Kim. Creepy men would leer and do double and triple takes at Kim throughout our trip. Maybe it’s because she is with a white man or she is speaking fluent English or because she is beautiful? Probably all three. In Korea the unabashed oglers did not look away when stared back at but instead fixed their unyielding gazes until I (or Kim) was the one who had to look away.

Living in Japan I’ve gotten used to minimalist portions of food delicately seasoned and prepared, a feast for the eyes and the stomach so they say. Korean cuisine is the opposite. The food is so damn spicy it makes my eyes water just looking at it. Along with a main dish one is always served between 3 and 30 side dishes such as kimchi. This wasteful practice of extra side dishes surprised me at first but by the end of our trip if we didn’t get at least eight side dishes with our meal I was disappointed.


I can always tell I'm in a Japanese tourist area because they are clean, expensive and the Korean staff all speak Japanese. Since I only learned a handful of useful Korean expressions before our trip I ended up conversing with many Korean store employees in Japanese. Kim and I went to a spa where all the foreign customers were Japanese. Hocking extra services, the Korean attendant spoke to me in broken English but out of habit quickly switched to Japanese. For some reason he was shocked to hear me talk back in Japanese.

Attendant: “Oh you speak Japanese?”
Me: “Well you spoke to me in Japanese…”
Attendant: “But you said you are an American.”
Me: “Yes, but I live in Japan.”
Attendant: “Oh your wife is Japanese.”
Me: “No she’s Korean.”
Attendant: “Your wife speaks Korean then."
Me: “Uhhh no she speaks Spanish.”

The confused as hell attendant gave up after that but I let him talk me into a conciliatory foot scrub. Apparently the Korean spas are known for their vigorous scrubbing and roughly sloughing off dead skin. This information would have been great to know BEFORE a wiry old Korean man made me his bitch and took to me like a brillo pad takes to a greasy lasagna pan. My whole body is smooth as silk now… but I don’t know if I’d ever do it again.

During a rainy morning Kim and I visited the nicest and most expensive gift store in Seoul crowded by Japanese bargain shoppers. Two female Japanese tourists surprised by the rain exclaimed:

J-Tourist 1: “Ame ga furu? Waaa ame ame ne”
J-Tourist 2: “Ame? Ame ne. Sugoi ame neeee!
J-Tourist 1: “Ehhh sugoi ame.

After the Japanese headed off to another section of trinkets two Korean employees mocked the Japanese by mimicking their tendency to repeat the same word over and over again.

K-Employee 1: Ame? Ame ne! Sugoi ame ne!
K-Employee 2: Ame ame ame ame ame.

The Korean employees clucked and giggled to themselves until they had to regain composure as more Japanese women strolled by their stall of handcrafted bric-a-brac. I overheard a couple other instances of Koreans aping the Japanese “kawaii” and “sugoi” over and over as well but these aren’t nearly as hilarious to me as the ‘ame’ incident.

Koreans love Starcraft. I remember playing the computer game 10 years ago in high school and then moving on to bigger and better things like Sega Dreamcast. In Korea Starcraft isn’t so much a computer game as it is a national obsession. There are PC Bangs on every block where nerds line up to play Starcraft and Korea’s other super popular game Lineage.

I saw a guy on the subway playing Starcraft as a handheld video game. I thought, “Hey that’s neat!” and took a closer look. Upon closer inspection I noticed the protruding t.v. antenna and his passive fingers on the buttons of his phone that I thought was a video game. Wait a minute… this guy isn’t playing Starcraft he is watching Starcraft on television. What… the… hell?

Not one, not two, but THREE television stations air professional Starcraft tournaments daily. At any time on Korean television there is somebody playing Starcraft. Multiple announcers give the play by play as the serious gamers wildly click around the screen trying to best their opponent. Koreans love Starcraft so much they even named a van after it!*


*Okay, I know this a real car brand in America but I think it’s funny that I saw it in Korea.

Kim and I stayed at the Holiday In while in Korea. Not to be confused with the American motel chain Holiday Inn. What does that extra ‘n’ entitle guests to? A hell of a lot seeing as our room was more of a dank receptacle for our luggage then anything else. This was fine though since we prioritized our spending on lavish meals with way too many side dishes and seeing famous sites in Seoul instead of watching professional gamers playing Starcraft on t.v. or seeing the growing mold creep around the corner of the ceiling.

The largest bill Korea is the 10,000 won. This seemed impressive to me until I realized that this amounts to only 10 USD. Since I paid for the entire trip in cash I ended up with a FAT ass wad of bills bulging out of my pocket. Damn I felt like a rich player for a while flashing my 10,000 wons all over the place. Every time I whipped out my obese billfold stuffed with sweet sweet won the storekeepers would size me up and treat me like a rich Japanese tourist minus the barley hidden enmity.

This is a picture of a traditional Korean farmer performing traditional Korean break dancing.


We went to the Korean War museum; holy crap it’s enormous! It would take about two hours to walk through without stopping to look at anything. There are over a hundred military vehicles littered outside the museum grounds including a B52 bomber. The museum tour starts out with flints and arrowheads and ends with modern and future weapons of mass destruction.

The overly informative museum exhibits elaborate dioramas depicting battlefields throughout Korean history. World War II and the Japanese occupation are strangely absent however. The museum is stuffed with an army of creepy mannequins enduring eternal pain in dioramas and other displays. Koreans really like their creepy mannequins because they were at every historical building we visited in Korea.

After going though the museum I felt like I wanted to go to war! Maybe that’s why half the patrons there were uniformed Korean army soldiers whooping it up at every bloody interactive diorama.

From what I saw and heard Korean English is much better then Japanese Engrish. While the Japanese tend to have strange slogans and spelling mistakes the only weird and wonderful English I saw were unfortunate names of structures such as ‘Ho Suck Building’ and ‘Young Dong Training Center.’


South Korea is a great country, too many motorcycles driving on the sidewalk for my taste, but still a great country. I am glad to be back ‘home’ in Japan where people are more reserved and I don’t have to haggle for prices. Would I go back? Maybe some day when I have an unquenchable appetite for fermented vegetables and spicy grilled beef or I’m invited to a Starcraft II tournament with a one million won grand prize. Until then I’ll content myself with memories and photographs and knowing that I’m taking home the best thing that was ever made in Korea as a forever souvenir. \ ^_^ /