Stress level: Angsty.
As I mentioned, I'm helping students prepare for various English speech contests. On Thursday, I received my schedule (a day late) from my current school. My schedule for Thursday was simply preparing practice activities for three girls would be reciting essays. Every hour period was blocked off like that because the school was giving tests. So all day, I sat in the teacher's room, read the essays, highlighted some areas I anticipated would need work and came up with some intonation and pronunciation activities.
Nowhere on the schedule did it say when I would be working with the students. One of the English teachers told me after lunch that he would get back to me about when I would work with the girls, but "please give me time." OK, that's fine. One of the students wanted to practice with me at that time, so I went and worked with her. Then, after the lunch break, the students cleaned the school and had their afternoon homeroom. This is standard practice if the afternoon schedule is different. On Thursday, it was because they needed to practice for this weekend's track and field event. Everyone went to the gym and did some cheer practice for about 45 minutes, then outside for something else. Throughout all this, I was in the teacher's room. Nobody came to me and let me know what was going on. So at 4pm, my regular vacate the premises time, I vacated. I didn't think anything of it...
Until Friday during second period. One of the English teachers came to me and said:
"So yesterday, you left at 4:00. This is your regular time?" I answered yes. "Yes, I saw you leave. Three of the students would like to practice with you. They are practicing for an English recitation. I think...did I tell...? I saw you leave."
It hit me that I was supposed to stay late. I was very embarrassed and sorry. I apologized over and over, but here's the problem: I couldn't say "I wasn't told to stay late." In Japan, you have to take the brunt of the blame. If it's something that wasn't in your control, you still have to fess up. Oh, there was a 20 car pile up on your way to work so you're late? Your fault. There's 12 feet of unplowed snow trapping you in your apartment? Your fault. Nobody said "Can you stay late today? I don't know for how long, but yeah... that'd be greeeaaaat." Your fault.
I apologized again and told him I would be happy to stay and work with the girls for as late as they would like. He said "Yes, please stay. Until I think 5?...I saw you leave yesterday."
It's a wonderful, confusing, read-between-the-lines life.
In a class later in the day, I was teaching the latter half of class and was just wrapping up the lesson: "This is _____... Is that______?" I was teaching them how to introduce people in a picture and to finish up, I would go up to a student with a picture of a cartoon character, point to it and ask "Is that your mother/father...?" and the student would reply with "Yes it is./No it isn't." (For the record, Godzilla is the father of one boy and the mother of another.)
I went to one girl and asked her. At first, she didn't seem to understand. I slowed down for her and asked again, pointing to the answers on the board so she could just recite one or the other. She looked at her friends, was giggling, then....
stopped....
and ran. I thought someone lit a stick of dynamite under her butt the way she launched out of her seat and out the door. The teacher went after her and I finished the class. I found the teacher talking to the nurse. Apparently, she has these little episodes once in a while and I shouldn't worry: it wasn't my fault. Somehow, I found that hard to believe, and went back to my desk, finished for the day and ready to just have a cup of green tea and count down the hours until the weekend.
I walked through the door and saw on the side table a big, green, phallic vegetable. Just sitting. Through some choppy Japanese, I was told it was the groundskeeper's gourd, grown in his own yard with his own hands. They proceeded to give me a cooking lesson (fry with oil, soy sauce and sugar) and very animatedly told me not to eat the seeds or the green rind. And then, one of the teachers picked up a knife and cut into it right there, and cut off a huge disk...for me, saying "Please, please!"
When I sat down again, the groundskeeper came back: he'd gone outside to the school garden and picked a couple cucumbers and eggplants. "Please, please!" he said, handing them to me!
That really helped picked me up and improve my mood. Funny what a handful of veggies can do to rectify a day of reamings.
I cooked the gourd and eggplant and pickled the cucumbers today. They tasted like gentleness, hospitality and love.
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