Last Days and Lost Innocence

I am an English teacher no more. We are returning to America. I’ll miss traveling, great food, the sheer awesomeness of Tokyo, the new friends Kim and I made as well as co-workers and the students, but we can’t stay at this job any longer. My last week of work ended up being one of the craziest since coming to Japan. With a renewed zeal the children hankered for last minute pictures, autographs and ass pokes.

Students lined up with notebooks, backpacks, and yellow hats for me to sign. When one kid asks for a signature I know every child in the vicinity will want one too so I chose my moments carefully.

At Big Rice Field a cheeky 3rd grade boy nicknamed Shin-chan pulled his pants down, waving his butt in the air and begging me to autograph his ass. The troublesome tot really does look and act just like the poorly animated character Shin-chan who is also notorious for his pants less antics.

While frantically signing belongings an innocent looking boy in the same class as Shin-chan strolled up to me, yellow hat in hand, and thrust his pointed fingers deep into my testicles and penis. WHAT THE HELL! I totally let my guard down by surrounding myself with smiling happy faces and this little bastard takes advantage with a crotch poke. The kid then has the audacity to ask for a signature. NO YOU GET NOTHING. I shoved the ball-stabbing brat away and ran for the safety of the teacher’s room, screaming 3rd and 4th graders were hot on my tail yelling, “Sign sign sign!”

During cleaning time in the teacher’s room I was still angry with myself for letting my guard down. I tried to snap out of my junk poked funk by greeting the cleaning kids per usual. I bent down to shake a cute 1st grade girls hand. Still wary I sensed someone creeping up behind me but it was too late. The stabbing fingers struck my bent posterior hitting the bullseye and sinking in. I viciously grab the offender’s hand whose owner turns out to be a 'normal' 6th grade boy I never had problems with before. The smiling boy says, “Hello. How are you?” Disgusted I scowl at the boy and tell him in Japanese to go away and never talk to me again. So much for the safety of the teacher’s room.

I’m still so ashamed that I got hit twice in one day. Some teachers asked me what’s wrong and I told them. The universal response was, “What’s wrong with that?” Ugh. I don’t want to be in a country where children have impunity to attack foreigner’s private parts so in this respect I’m glad we’re leaving.

The absolute LAST lesson I had was probably the worst non Eri-Sensei related class of my ALT career. It was the terrible 2nd graders at Rural #1. A record eight children cried during the lesson for various bullying related reasons. In the middle of teaching the brawling and bawling classroom a ninja child (probably one of the same boys that attacked Bret) went for a dick swipe reach around. Instinctively I closed my legs tight, vice gripping the would be assassin’s arm between my thighs.

There I am with a boy’s groping arm sticking out from under my crotch as the homeroom teacher stupidly smiles on in the back while doing worse than nothing to control the children. I violently tossed the kid in the air, put him face to face and screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” before setting the now terrified tyke down and shoving him towards his vacant seat.

I loathe this teacher. The crazy old lady actually encourages the loudmouth bratty kids to be louder and scolds the ones getting beat up for crying. I stopped the lesson at least half a dozen times to break up bullying with one hand and protect my penis with the other. Mercifully the bell rang and I skipped out without collecting any materials or saying goodbye.

There was a mixed reaction to my leaving. Some teachers are sad, many are indifferent, while a few appeared to be happy. Every school’s staff is worried that they will get a bad ALT in the fall like my predecessor, Alex. Alex is a creepy white guy who I met once. He is overly confrontational and complains a lot which is very bad for a Japanese workplace. Alex came to Big Rice Field’s graduation last March to visit his old students and was unceremoniously escorted off the premises by the livid principal for reasons I’m glad not to know. For a super polite Japanese society this is pretty shocking. One teacher put it together for me when she said, “he likes girls.” I asked, “Oh, he likes Japanese woman?” “No… he likes the little girl students.” Sooooo creepy.

After a year of analysis I have compiled a list in order of importance of what Elementary teachers want in an ALT.

#1 Japanese speaking ablity
#2 Always be genki! (energetic, happy, good attitude.)
#3 Punctuality
#4 Teaching ability

I noticed the more Japanese I learned the more responsibly and respect as a real staff member I was granted. After finding out about my return to American worried teachers told me, “What if the new ALT doesn’t speak Japanese? You can understand us so well so it will be VERY troublesome if the next person can’t.”

These complacent teachers were in an easy groove because I took over all the responsibility for English class, planning the lesson, making materials, and teaching almost always alone. If they cared to know I’d explain what I was doing to the Japanese teachers beforehand. I was a very low maintenance ALT who didn’t make waves so I can see why teachers are afraid of getting another creepy blowhard like my predecessor.

Kim had a hard time being an ALT because she is a real teacher in America and was used to her own classroom and American school rules. Her strongest point is #4 on the top heavy scale of what Japanese teachers want from ALTS. So poor Kim, a fantastic teacher with a masters in education and 10 years of expereince in America, wasn’t appreciated by most Japanese teachers. At least Kim was always genki even if she had to fake it at the end.

Kim is far and away a better teacher than me but I was a better ALT. My intermediate level Japanese coupled with my gaijin looks and genki clown act is exactly what teachers want from an ALT. The actual learning English part? Well the teachers would rather the ALT come on time every day then have the children actively learn English using inventive and exciting teaching methods.

There are some superb people teaching at the schools I worked at who make a hugely positive impact on student’s lives. I learned a great deal from them. On the flip side there are some awful teachers like the one from my very last lesson of 2nd graders at Rural #1 and most of the Ghost School's staff. I thought about saying to the bad teachers, “Why are you a teacher when you hate children you hate teaching and you hate yourself?” But coming from me they wouldn't have cared anyway so why bother. Shoganai.

Japanese people are very polite to strangers, but often not that friendly and take awhile to win over. At the Ghost School one office lady ignored me for 10 months then suddenly opened up to me. It turns out she is an Americophile with zero English ability. We had conversations whenever I had any free time at all. She made the last month at that horrible school bearable and gave me a letter and a huge sack of potatoes in the parking lot when I left so the other teachers wouldn't see the fond farewell.

Various teachers and friends ignored me for months before finally coming on to my gaijin charms as well. Although it took awhile for some Japanese people to warm up to me once I got into their good graces they ended up being some of the most fun and interesting friends I’ve ever had the pleasure to spend time with.

Unlike America Japanese people hate used household objects. I’ve seen brand new looking bicycles, leather chairs, tables etc in the trash ripe for the picking but the only truck roaming the streets to collect these choice items is the garbage man because its all been USED. In America put any piece of crap bookcase or blender on the sidewalk with a ‘FREE!’ sign and that sucker is gone within the hour. I thought about bringing my extra clothes to Ueno park and handing them out to the homeless but quickly dismissed the idea. The Japanese homeless are probably too good for my used clothing too.

This last weekend we went to summer festivals with friends. Many students who thought they’d seen the last of their ALTs were amazed to spot us at the festivals and screamed our names while demanding pictures be taken. Kids who we thought absolutely hated English class and ignored our existence at school ran up to us smiling and waving. Here is a short, badly lit video of a surprised student's reaction to seeing Michael Sensei.

Bret

Last month my friend Bret came to visit my wife and I in our sleepy little Japanese town. On the first day, Friday, I took Bret to Rural School #1 to show him what being an ALT is all about. Rural School #1 is a very calm place and definitely the most unremarkable of all the elementary schools. However, this is a very good thing because if I had taken him to either the Ghost School or Big Rice Field the savage students would have eaten him alive.

I went to Rural School #1 the day before to tell the vice principal that I was bringing my American friend with me the next day. For the first time in 10 months of working together I saw a gleeful smirk develop on the normally stone faced man as I described Bret’s 6’3” frame and long red hair. I also told the vice principal to keep Bret’s visit a secret to the children and the rest of the staff, further altering the stoic’s well formed facial creases of disapproval to ones of barely restrained gittiness.

The next day with Bret in tow the teachers and children greet us with dropped jaws and one-word exclamations of, “Big!” “Tall!” and “Amazing!” Word got around quickly that a new bigger and even stranger looking gaijin has come to school with Michael Sensei.

The faculty made attempts to speak to Bret in English, although the majority ended up pronouncing Bret’s name as “Brado.” Most people looked to me to translate even the simplest phrases like “how are you?” and “where do you live in America” when I know they can say it English. The now mirthful smirking vice-principal was particularly interested in my foreign friend.

The beginning of every class started with the students shouting “EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” when Bret ducked through the door of the classroom. Next questions were fielded about Bret’s life such as “Where are you from?” “How tall are you?” and “Is that your real hair color?” After the initial shock and generally timid Q&A sessions the students were mostly calm.

The only bad students at Rural #1 are the little terror 2nd graders, whom we did not teach that day. I really wanted to give Bret the full ALT experience though so after lunch I suggested we go to the younger students classrooms for a visit. One look at the uninitiated gaijin giant and it was on. Bret was swarmed by at least twenty pinching, poking, grabbing and stabbing piranhaesque seven year olds. I watched at a relatively safe distance as a couple particularly nasty boys snuck up on my occupied friend and flanked both sides to thrust their fingers into his tender nether regions. A few kids were so enamored with Bret’s plush auburn arm hair that they wouldn’t stop rubbing it and at least one lucky kid managed to pluck out a few souvenir strands. The homeroom teacher laughed and said to me, “he is having so much fun with the students.” Bret did not look like he was having fun, but I sure was.

After the last class Bret and I relaxed in the relative safety of the teacher’s room and reflected on our day as we watched the principal walk the pet goat around the playground. Intermittently students would venture into the teacher’s room to get a better look at Bret. A couple times the younger students would run away shouting “Kowaii kowaii!” (Scary, scary!”) To the urging of a PTA mom, Bret launched her child over his head and up to the ceiling. Weeks after Bret’s departure children from Rural #1 as well as other students that saw Bret in town asked, “where is your friend” and were sorely disappointed to hear that he returned to the land of giants.

Since Bret only had one weekend to spend in Tokyo we had to make it count. First stop the anime and nerd capital of the universe, Akihabara. Unfortunately the week before some loser rented a car and smashed through town before jumping out and stabbing innocent people, killing seven and wounding another ten. Akihabara was still in mourning from the attack and wasn’t teeming with cosplay freaks per usual. We made the most of it and still had fun basking in the unabashed geekiness.

Walk into any manga/toy store in Akihabara and past the innocent façade of the first floor one will be inundated with wall-to-wall porn. Porn in Japan has blurry mosaics on the sex parts, but with comics anything goes. It’s sad when hand drawn pictures are more disturbing than real life, but on the other hand maybe it’s a good thing. I’ve been to Akiba before but I am still amazed at the sheer volume of little girl lolita porn there is and how many creepy customers line up to buy it.

Akihabara is also famous for high tech computer equipment but we didn’t have the money or inclination to buy any.

We went to a futuristic arcade where gamers climb into the cockpits of a giant robots and have a gundum battle royal with other killer fighting machines. We were far too intimidated to brawl with the veteran robot pilots. Instead we played the drum game and Bret damaged his finger drumming too furiously.

We took a break at a maid café. Japanese women will dress up in frilly maid customs to serve socially awkward otakus overpriced drinks and snacks. Entering the café the first maid greets us with a formal, “Welcome home master.” At our frilly table we are given a miniature bell to ring in order to get a maid’s attention. The maid that served our coffee and cake stirred the milk and sugar in a deliberately slow and sensual way while giggling, “tee hee hee hee!”

I found the most hilarious part of this experience to be the enthralled patrons. A guy across from us ordered the $16 rice omelet. The maid used a ketchup bottle to draw a picture of Doraemon as the mesmerized otaku man looked on. The guy next to omelet man kept muttering, “moe moe moe” while obsessing over the cuteness of the maid’s act. One can buy extra services from the maids starting at $100 for talking. Foot massages and perhaps other types of massages cost extra. When we left our maid hopped up and down waving and smiling while screaming, “goodbye master come back again soon!”

Next Bret and I went to Akasaka for a ninja dinner at a ninja restaurant. In the dark restaurant we traversed though hidden passages and secret doors before arriving at our table. I wanted our ninja waiter to speak Japanese for a more authentic experience, but then I heard his English accent and it was hilariously awesome.

Ninja Waiter: “I will show my ninja power, HIYA” and with a gratuitous hand display he l the escargot on fire before serving.

The food was only good, not great, but the atmosphere was kick ass. I had to use the bathroom and needed a ninja guide to get there but then got hopelessly lost on my way back. I had to use the password, “zangatsu” on a passing ninja busboy who escorted me back. There was even a ninja magic show between the main course and dessert.

After dinner we hit up ganguro infested Shibuya for some wacky nightlife. How many women and men with overwrought tans and blond hair did we see in Shibuya that night? Too many too count, especially after several beers. Not all J-girls are cute subservient maids. Some are rebellious foulmouthed ganguros who hang out their menacing yakuza looking boyfriends in Shibuya. After taking in Shibuya’s drunken youth we decided to call it a night around 2:00 am. Since the trains stop running so freaking early in Japan we needed a place to crash.

Walking up love hotel hill we saw the most persistent prostitute EVER. She inquired if we wanted a “masajii” which both of us recently married men declined. Behind us was a short shy young man that the masajii woman quickly recognized as an easy mark. The pushy woman stopped the mark asking if he wanted a masajii, he tried to duck and swerve to avoid her but she leached onto him by grabbing his hands. We slowed down our pace to watch for awhile, but the awkward waltz continued until we were over the hill and out of sight.

Bret and I ended up at an all male capsule hotel built for cheapskate salary men to sleep off their nights of debauchery. It’s a good thing that neither of us are claustrophobic because it was like a coffin in there, albeit a coffin with AC and a television.

After a poor nights sleep we headed off to Shinjuku, Harajuku, and Omote-Sando so Bret could buy souvenirs and we gawk at more interesting characters. First we went to Shinjuku and some of the nicer department stores before finding our way to Kabuki-cho, the red light district. We declined the pushy hustlers demands to go to their strip bars and soap parlors. No I do not want to bathe and get all sudsy with naked Japanese strippers. There are tons more maid cafes and girly bars AND there is also a large number of butler cafes. Hey if men can get served and soapy then ladies should be able to get a little extra attention from primped up effeminate butlers. It’s only fair.

Harajuku was not in mourning. A full display of cosplay characters, Harajuku baby dolls, lolita girls and cutesy but a little scary goth lolita girls were strutting about the area in their intricate outfits. Bret bought more souvenirs here and at Omote-Sando.

It was a fun but exhausting weekend, maybe that’s why it took five weeks to write about it.

Sh*t is fun

Japanese people never hesitate to tell me just how sick they are. One of the most common complaints I get from co-workers is that they are constipated. Hmmmm maybe never eating bread crust or the skin/peel of any fruit while consuming white rice, which has next to no dietary fiber, for practically every meal is to blame?

Me: “How are you?”
Teacher: “Ugh I’m a little constipated.”
Me: "Ummmm… gambate" (good luck)!

I use the foods flashcards for several lessons. Every damn time I show the spaghetti card some students (always boys) will laugh and mock how I say the word. For a long time I thought it was because the Japanesey Engrish ‘supageti’ sounds so different from spaghetti.

A couple months ago a teacher at Big Rice Field unflinchingly tells me she isn’t feeling well because she has bad ‘geri’ or diarrhea. That same day I had a foods lesson involving spaghetti. It finally dawned on me that that the mischievous boys have been hearing spa’geri’ instead of spaghetti. All these months I’ve been pointing to a flashcard of spaghetti slathered in a lumpy brown meat sauce and loudly exclaiming, “spaGERI!” without knowing why it was so hilarious. With this newfound knowledge in mind I cannot look at the spaghetti picture without thinking it looks just like a messy plate of noodles covered in diarrhea. This is especially disgusting because it is supposed to be food. I can no longer use the spaghetti flashcard. It grosses me out too much.

The Japanese word for shit is kuso. It is a very common swear word amongst adults as well as children. Kids mutter kuso when they get an answer wrong and use the word as an insult to others. Additionally boogers and earwax are hanakuso and mimikuso, nose shit and ear shit respectively. A few weeks back I saw two 5th grade boys fighting in the teacher’s room. First they were digging in their noses and flinging hanakuso on each other while shouting “hanakuso BOMBU!” Next they were mining their ears for mimikuso to smear on each other’s arms. I made sure to break up the pair before they decided to escalate the fight to another kuso. I also washed my hands for a good two minutes afterwards.

Japanese love the swirly poop. It looks like a twisty plop of chocolate frozen yogurt. Kids draw swirly poops as funny symbols on their notebooks and I even saw a teacher giving out swirly poop stickers to lucky students.

Strolling though a park in Japan one will see a sign every twenty feet telling dog owners to pick up after their canines by showing a crossed out swirly poop. This curlicue excrement is called ‘fun’ (but pronounced foon.) I have yet to see man or beast produce an authentic 'fun' swirly poop. To accomplish such a feat one would have to poop slowly while walking in a circle and the size and texture would have to be just right. The logistics seem nearly impossible but one can always have fun trying.

Goooood Comedy

There is a terrible comedian on Japanese tv who I can’t stand. Her name is Edo Harumi and her shtick is to do a little song and dance routine to ‘My Sharona’ while shouting, “good good gooooood!” which sounds more like “goooo!” Read the Japanese TV Part I and II posts for more about horrible one-dimensional comedy acts. This woman’s (mercifully waning) popularity has left a lasting impression upon my students, like Kojima Yoshino’s lawn mower dance but much more annoying and frequently used.

This is a video of her doing her routine. She comes on at about :45.



When I teach kids English I use a lot of body language when I talk. When a student gives a right answer I generally give a thumbs up and say, “good job!” NOW because of Miss Edo whenever I say “good” I am received with mocking laugher and kids screaming “goooo!” back in my face. In English, especially teaching English, I say ‘good’ a lot, good morning, good afternoon, good job and so forth. I might not even mind the students ridiculing me with “goooo” if it was in any way funny, but it’s not. It’s horribly insane and stupid.

Riding the train to Tokyo a few weeks ago and I saw Edo Harumi in an ad for a new soft drink. She was giving her characteristic thumbs up and hideous ‘O’ face while a word bubble above her head claims that the new drink tastes “GOOOOOD!” Since the train was crammed I had to stare at her creepy plastic face for 50 minutes. In fact I’ve seen her in quite a few ads proclaiming with a double-fisted thumbs up that the product is very GOOOOOD.

Not all Japanese comedy is bad, in fact sometimes it’s hilarious. Such is the case for the comedy troupe Downtown. When I hear somebody say, “nande yanen” (what the hell!?) to the boke (idiot) character it’s so livid and malicious that it cracks me up every time. London Boots is funny too, the way they expose and completely humiliate cheaters is hilarious, but Downtown is the best.

Here is a short skit by Downtown totally ripping on English teachers in Japan. Awesome.

I See White People

I stride into my first class of the day and start off with a hearty, “goooood morning!” The collective Japanese second graders ape my greeting with a boisterous, “goooood morning!” Something doesn’t sound quite right. I continue with, “how are you?” Various children declare, “I’m fine” or “great” “sleepy” “hungry” etc. However, one distinctly American voice shouts, “I’m fine. How are you?” I turn my head towards the unexpected utterance and lo and behold in the far right seat of the front row is a freckled face white girl smiling at me.

What the hell is going on here? There is the occasional Indian or Peruvian kid in class but an American!? I quickly gather myself from the shock and start the English sing-along part of the lesson. While the three class reps bicker over who will put the cd in the cd player and who will hit the play button I hastily inquire the girl’s name and where she’s from.

The lesson is fruits which is really really easy since almost half the Japanese names for fruits are borrowed from English. Orenji = orange, remon = lemon etc. When I ask the class to tell me what fruit is on the flashcard the white girl, Lisa, barks the name out in her flawless American English adding “juicy” or “delicious” to ones she is particularly fond of. Luckily she gets bored of showing off after the first couple passes so the Japanese students have a chance to be heard.

When I ask the students, “What fruit do you like?” Lisa matter of factly states, “I like everything.” Throughout Lisa’s unexpected outbursts of English and our short conversation before the sing-along I’d been translating the English into Japanese for the rest of the class, except for juicy which I didn’t know the word for and said in Japanesey English, juushi.

Lisa’s English kept throwing off my teaching rhythm. I’d hear the American English mixed with the Japanese English and my brain took half a second to remember that YES I am still in Japan and teaching English and YES there is an American girl in my class.

The game was to lay out twelve fruit cards on a table as four or five children with their hands on their heads huddled around the cards. When I call out ‘peach’ the kids have to slap the card with a picture of a peach on it.

Side note. The peach on the fruits flashcards looks like a big fat naked butt. Some seemingly clever kids will call out “oshiri” or butt instead of peach much to the hilarity of the other students and homeroom teacher. Luckily there weren’t any oshiri comments during my lesson with Lisa.

Lisa repeatedly got beat by the experienced Japanese card slappers. Pouting and whining about losing, she eventually stopped playing all together. It’s not like she was doing badly though. I think she got three or four cards during the first game while the girl next to her never managed to grab any and seemed happy throughout.

Lisa’s behavior confirmed my suspicions that most of the competition style games played in Japanese schools would never fly in America because it would hurt the feelings of too many precious special unique gifted ‘we’re all winners’ children.

After the lesson I converse with Lisa a little more. I find out that she’s only been in Japan one week and her dad is a lawyer who also surfs and goes rock climbing. In case I forgot that her dad is a lawyer she managed to repeat it about ten times. Lisa then went on to tell me how many places in America and Japan she’d been to. I forgot how much American kids brag about themselves and their family. Not that Japanese children don’t do the same, but it’s on a whole different level with Americans.

I’ve been an ALT long enough to realize that nobody thinks it odd not to inform me that an American child is in the school let alone my first class of the day. I’m supposed to just know these things. But damn… I wish when I was eight I could have gone to Japan for summer vacation and made friends in a Japanese school.

After work last week I went to the grocery store by the train station to pick up some fresh produce for dinner. In the senbei aisle blocking my path is a triple chinned white woman with one of those small travelers backpacks on that sacrifices functionality for looking expensive and cute (or maybe it just looked small on her.)

I smile and say “hello.” The teenager throws me a sickened look as if I’d just farted in a crowded elevator. I slip my way past the disgusted obstacle and into the next aisle. Eh, I guess she’s Russian or something. Nope. One aisle over I overhear in a loud obnoxious valley girl drawl, “oh my GOD some creepy guy just smiled and said ‘hello’ to me.” Then an unseen white girl says, “oh my god that’s like soooo weird.”

What the hell? I live here bitch(es). I’m just trying to get some asparagus, tomatoes and coconut pocky for dinner. Since I dreaded seeing two or more revolt(ed)(ing) ugly faces much more than wanted to embarrass them I went to the checkout and got the hell out in a hurry.

Occasionally I’ll see an ALT or another white person that I don’t know out here in the boondocks. These are the unfriendliest group of people ever. It’s like I’m violating their inner Japanese sanctum where nothing Western may been seen or heard. Apparently they want to be the only gaijin in town because a city of 100,000 or so isn’t big enough for two foreigners and I’m the one that needs to leave.

The white people pretend not to see me but I catch contemptuous leers directed at me and can feel the animosity in the air. How DARE I be here to ruin their unique Japanese experience. Sometimes I’ll stroll over and talk to the white guy. (It’s almost always a haggard looking white guy.) They respond with a feigned look of surprise as if they only just spotted me as I’m right in front of them and asking if they speak English. I’ll get a nervous conversation with a brush off less than a minute in followed by one last angry glare as they try to extricate themselves from an association with their fellow Westerner as quickly as possible.

In Tokyo I blend in with the rest of the gaijin residents and tourists and have met some very friendly people. But get 20 kilometers outside of the city and I am outright HATED by other white people.

I can’t understand the prevailing anti-gaijin sentiments of contempt towards other gaijin. It’s like a self-hating Jew that’s not even funny, what’s the point? The grocery store bitches were the last straw for me. I’m not going to be hostile towards other white people but I’m not going to be friendly either. Of course if anyone wants to speak to me first then I’ll be receptive, however this has never happened outside of the tourist districts of Tokyo.

Sports Daze

In Japan the most popular sports are baseball, soccer and sumo in that order. There are tons of other minor sports such as golf, K1, boxing, badminton, long distance running and ping-pong which have their fans and brief moments of glory but they aren’t nearly as popular.

Baseball

Japan has twelve pro teams in two leagues. Every team has a sponsor attached to their name, for example, Yakult Swallows, Softbank Hawks and the Nippon Ham Fighters. I can see this happening to the cash strapped and/or greedy MLB teams in the near future. Most of the stadiums are already named after corporations and pretty soon the Verizon Pirates, Taco Bell Padres and Milwaukee’s Best Brewers will be a reality. I'm calling it.

Every day the tv news sports section has an update on how the Japanese MLB players are doing even when nothing really happens. Wow Hideki Matsui hit a sacrifice fly and Ichiro caught a ball he had to run for. They're really team players! With a Japanese player on both sides the media had a field day during the last world series. Every nuance of every pitch was analyzed and reanalyzed and when the two Japanese met on the field it made the front cover of every newspaper and was the top news story for a week.

Last weekend we finally went to the Tokyo dome to see the Yomiuri Giants play the Lotte Marines. We had to sit in the Marines cheering section because the Giants cheering section, which is four times larger, was sold out. If you’ve never seen a Japanese baseball cheering section it is really something to behold. So please behold it.



They are chanting 'Jose Ortiz', one of the gaijin players allowed to play for each team whose main job is to hit homers. Luckily he and a foreigner from the Giants both did their jobs and slapped a couple over the fence that game to make things interesting.

Along with organized cheering another cool thing about Japanese baseball is that the vendors walking up and down the aisles aren’t crusty old men screaming PEAAAAAAANUTS and tossing them in your face. Hell no! In Japan the ones hocking eight-dollar beers and squid chips are cute young women in tight brightly colored skirt suits, very eye catching.

The cheering sections aren’t content to simply chant and sing a batter’s name. Oh no. In the 5^th inning when the Giant’s pitcher was relieved the Marine’s fans did this,



This madness lasted three to four minutes. I got tired just watching them.

Soccer

Japan has a pro soccer league that is pretty popular, however since I’m an American I couldn’t care less.

Sumo

We haven’t been able to see sumo live yet, only on tv. The sport is nauseating yet fascinating at the same time, like a car wreck I can’t seem to look away and without noticing minutes and even hours slip away. The two current yokozuna are from Mongolia and are pretty damn good, especially the beefy Asashoryu. The winner of the last tournament however is an ozeki Bulgarian guy, the first European to ever win a major sumo tournament. Many Japanese newspapers and acquaintances have commented that he is very handsome and reminds them of David Beckam. I don’t see it.

Hmmmmm maybe Steven Seagal in his leaner years but not David Beckam.

I was talking to a co-worker that LOVES sumo and adorns his desk and classroom with sumo posters, a sumo calendar and several wrestler's pictures about the last tournament. He hung his head in shame and told me, “Today’s sumo is dominated by gaijin. Gaijin sumo is here,” raises his hand above his head, “and Japanese sumo is here,” lowers hand past his knee. “It is a GREAT shame.”

Sports Day

All of my Elementary schools recently had their Undokai or Exercise Event or how I like to translate it, Sports Day. Sports Day consists of half the school as red and the other half as white performing regular sports such as a relay race as well as American Gladiator type wacky sports like pushing giant balls around, grabbing logs, and tossing as many beanbags into a hoop in twenty seconds as possible. The emphasis is not on individual merit but how the team performs. There are also musical events complete with terrible choreography; terrible choreography is a Japanese trademark not only in schools but by “professional” Japanese musicians as well.

Here are the cute first graders playing the beanbag hoop game. It may look like the white team in the foreground isn’t doing too well, but out of the four groups that one took 1^st prize both times.



Much to my surprise The Love School’s principal wanted me to participate in a PTA event. The event was the beanbag hoop toss with a pole twice as tall as the first graders. Since I am at least a head taller than every other participate there was some pressure on me to perform. Unfortunately my group consisted of diminutive obasans who would toss the beanbag halfway up the pole then runaway as the bags rained down on their frail bodies. Our team lost badly both times. However, due to my effort in scoring half the points for my thirty odd member team I got a couple high (low) fives from the short statured Japanese grandmothers and THAT was awesome.

At The Love School the red team had won five years in a row. But this year white kicked red's ass. Is it a coincidence that the year I show up that the white team manhandles the red? I don’t think so.

Shoganai

One phrase that I hear practically every day from my Japanese co-workers and acquaintances is shoganai, or “it can’t be helped, so why worry about it?” Needless road construction makes me late to work? Shoganai. Boss is a total bastard? Shoganai. Fourteen-hour workdays? Shoganai. The pragmatic attitude of shoganai helps save a densely populated island nation from going crazy with stress and pressure, although “death from overwork” or karoshi is still a problem.

Sure the average Japanese worker gets rolled over and shit on, but it’s just shoganai and keep up that gambate spirit! Fortunately us gaijin aren’t recognized as part of the “Japanese” workforce and don’t have to adhere to such a strict code of conduct.

Unfortunately ALL the shit that the Japanese wouldn’t dare utter to another co-worker falls on my ears. I’ve been told secrets about infidelity, hating on bosses, or just confiding in me that they are having a particularly bad day. Sometimes the spate of words comes out so fast I can hardly understand a thing.

For example a couple days ago a young but weary Ms S asks me to come to the copy room. Wildly looking around for witnesses she closes the door behind us. No the unmarried woman is NOT making a pass at me but instead goes on to hastily whisper why she can’t stand that old bitch Ms Y that sits next to her because she is always undermining her in front of the other teachers and students. Relieved to get this information off her chest she sighs and looks up at me five years younger, happier and refreshed.

I’m not the only gaijin counselor in town, any halfway accommodating foreigner will do. Kim and other ALTs all have their own stories about being confidants to too many Japanese secrets.

Shoganai is annoying because the Japanese cannot air their grievances that accumulate over time and end up burying themselves in self-regret. Then again I prefer this method of keeping up a front of a happy workplace much more than the American system of bitching and moaning about every little thing. "I don’t care who yelled at you OR if your feelings got hurt. Just do your damn job!" Ugh, I've wanted to scream that to so many complaining American co-workers. There really needs to be a middle ground between the two opposite ideologies. Ahhhhh shoganai.