asked if I had gotten my hair straightened...? Interesting. And this was the question of the day. Nevermind the 5 inch difference in length and 5 shade difference in color. My hair was apparently only remarkable in that it was straight. It was neither a Japanese, avoid-undesirable-attention-response nor an acknowledge-the-obvious-change-response. I promise I'm not just being vain or hoping people will notice me. I'm genuinely confused by this reaction.
Continuing on - today is a special day in Japan. On Feb. 3rd, Japanese people throw beans on their front porch and say, "Devil out, good in!" I'm not Japanese, nor are my AET neighbors, so we had no bean-throwing before work, and I ceased to think about this tradition. Until school lunch. Everyday our school lunch is served with white rice that comes in a little silver tin with a lid (except the days we have "western" lunch and get bread). So today, when I saw that school lunch was the smelly fish that I never eat, I reached for my white rice because I knew it would fill my hungry belly, and I wouldn't have to eat the fish. As I took off the lid to my rice, I was startled. The rice inside was a shade of purple! What?! My coworker sitting next to me informed me that it was special food for Feb. 3rd. Lunch also came with a snack-size package of "mame" (ma-meh, beans) with a picture of a person throwing the beans at a fleeing devil. Takano-sensei, my favorite PE teacher who sits across from me, informed me that I need to eat 22 beans today because I am 22 years old. Interesting...
Moving along to cleaning time after lunch. As I'm cleaning in my usual spot, I hear a punk third year (US 9th grade) boy, who speaks little English, singing an obscure song from "Mama, Mia!" in English. What? Why is this 15 year old Japanese class clown who doesn't know English singing "Money, Money, Money!"?
The adventure continues as the whole school moves to the gym for rehearsal of the 2nd grade (US 8th grade) "coming of age ceremony" that will take place tomorrow. Now you all know that this is Japan, so I can't wear my outdoor shoes inside. But did you also know that I can't wear my inside shoes in the gym? I must have a separate pair of "gym shoes" which are not to be worn in any other location. Today, however, they have covered the gym floor with special mats so that inside shoes may now be worn into the gym. Now we're in the gym, wearing our inside shoes, standing on mats that cover the entire gym floor.
The ceremony rehearsal is very formal. We must clap as the second year students enter (all 105 of them), and take their seats in the front of the gym. Then each class of second graders goes on stage, select students say some Japanese into the microphone, and I have a very vague idea of what they're saying. Something about their goals. As each student approaches the mic, she/he must bow. She/he must bow again when stepping away from the mic. There is a whole lot of bowing happening. Or at least I thought it was a lot.
The next part of the ceremony involves several teachers being called on stage to make announcements. Luckily, each announcement is about 2 seconds long. The unlucky part is that each time a teacher is called up to stage we are sternly prompted over the microphone to Stand! Bow! Sit! Next teacher called up, repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And --- I've never bowed so much in my life! I don't even know what I'm bowing for. Sometimes, I'm not even sure if I'm supposed to be bowing. I just know that the voice commanding me to Stand! Bow! Sit! sounds intimidating, and I don't want to disobey! At one point, I jumped and almost made it fully to my feet when I realized that only the students were standing. Who knows how many times this happened without me realizing it...
Okay, so finally, I am done being barked at in Japanese to Stand! Bow! Sit! and the teachers are summoned for a meeting in the front of the gym. The students remain in their seats while the teachers discuss the rehearsal and what needs to be perfected by tomorrow.
I'm not using the term perfected lightly. The teachers discuss how the students do not have their fingers curled under and their hands are not close enough to their hips while seated. Then they discuss how the Stand! Bow! Sit! routine does not look unified. It does not look like one person. (Really? Gee, who would've guessed that 316 junior high school students don't move entirely in unison?) Also, the students are shuffling their feet too much when they walk in. Additionally, when the students bow as they approach and step away from the mic, they are not standing in a straight line with the next person approaching or leaving the mic.
Many of these things will be rehearsed later today in homeroom classes and again tomorrow before the actual ceremony. The bowing, however, cannot wait. It must be improved. Now. So the students have to practice Stand! Bow! Sit!-ing in unison. Each time it looks like 316 students instead of one mass body of computer-programmed robots, they must start again. They finally get it right (and how dare they take so long!), and I breathe a sigh of relief, because I think the rehearsal is over.
Wrong.
Now they must rehearse the school song again because they are not singing loud enough. And if they are wearing hospital masks because they are sick (that's what the Japanese do when they're sick), they must take them off so they can sing louder. (This seems illogical, they are sick. Why would we make them sing loudly? Oh dear, me and my logic are lost in Japan...) So, as the students sing, their homeroom teachers scold them. The resulting sound is 12 angry Japanese people shouting over 316 students singing. At last, the song is loud enough.
Now are we done?
No. Now the students must be lectured about who knows what. I stop trying to pick up key words and piece things together. I don't care what they're doing wrong now. That's when I hear it - a bucket of water splashing down onto the precious gym floor mats. Wait... there are no buckets of water in here. What was that sound? Vomit! And it doesn't stop. It just keeps coming. Somewhere in this gym filled with 316 junior high school students, someone is puking on the floor. Two teachers go running towards the sound and start dragging a second year student towards the door. He has vomit all over his school blazer, and he's still puking. The teachers are literally dragging him out as he continues to vomit, leaving a trail to the door. Luckily, the time it took for me to jump from "bucket of water" to "vomit" in my head was a split-second, so I got as far away from the spectacle as I could! Teacher or not - I don't do vomit. Plus I can play the foreigner card, I'm often deemed incapable of carrying out teacherly tasks, so I take advantage.
Now we must be done. Everything has been rehearsed. Teachers have discussed. Students have been lectured. And the smell of puke is about to start wafting.
But no. The lecturing is not done. There is more to be said. And it MUST be said here and now. We cannot leave the gym. The students who are sitting with puke at their feet cannot leave. A few teachers who are not directly involved in the present lectures run for toilet paper, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch one of my cute little Japanese English teachers covering her mouth with one hand and wiping up vomit with the other. This is just too bizarre. Why are we still here? What is going on?
FINALLY the 3rd and 1st year students are dismissed. I breathe a sigh of relief (but not too deep because then I would be forced to deeply inhale the smell of barf), but almost choke on it when I realize that the 2nd year students are not being dismissed. (Remember that the student who puked was a second year student, and all second year students are sitting together, which means their chairs are in the vomit.) To top it all off, the students are now being fiercely scolded. It escalates to the point of one teacher grabbing a student by the shirt collar and jerking him to his feet while screaming in his face.
At this point, I've had enough. Enough of the smell. Enough of the scolding. Enough of the corporal punishment. Enough of the ridiculous rigidness of this entire rehearsal that prioritizes structure and routine over relieving a group of students who have been breathing in vomit-filled air for far too long.
The entire event, this entire day, in fact, is bizarre.
And absurd.
2 comments:
Good story. And I'm greatly impressed that you understood so much of what was going on. I would have been totally lost. Come to think of it, at my own rehearsal ceremony, I was lost. I think I was concentrating too hard on the "Stand, Bow, Sit" routine to spare much mental activity for anything else.
You're a really good writer, Jennifer. I really enjoyed reading this post!
OHmyGOSH! I am laughing so hard I can't breathe! I had to stop reading twice to catch my breath! This is incredible!! Yet, what makes it so funny is that it's true. SO true! I mean, I want to say it's "unbelievable", yet after working in a Japanese jr. high for the past several months, I completely believe it.
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