Accustomisation to Japan?
There comes a time when you start becoming accustomed to your new life. Its a process of forgetting that you are new and different, and of being trusted in your new position. The other day I was in the lunchroom with all the senior students and teachers at my school. It was a great meal. It was a Chinese Viking. "Viking" is a Japanese word that I find quite unbelieveable. It denotes a buffet, because-get this- you take what you want... just like a viking... Then when you put the word "Viking" after "Chinese", it takes on a sinister ironic meaning. I can think of a more recent and relevant example of a race trying to take what they want... But I don't think it is my place to teach about Japanese war crimes.
Anyhow... So I was eating away, like a Viking. It was really a great meal. You know when you eat delicious food when you have a huge appetite, and you really forget yourself? Well, I was in that zone. For some reason, I stopped eating and looked up, presumably to come up for air. I ended up looking at a mirror at the other end of the dining hall, right back at myself. It was at that moment I realised: "man, I'm a freak!".
Yes, I know, I am offensively foreign. But maybe, after the months go by, I will have these experiences less and less, and I will truly start feeling like I belong. God, I hope not.
The other teachers at my school (presuming that I am also a teacher), are also warming to me. Part of that may have to do with going out with 7 of them to a very expensive restaurant. I was driving, so couldn't drink. That was a shame, and to be honest, quite a rare occurrence. Anyhow, the meal was very good though. However, there was just an overkill of plates, bowls, dishes, cups, coasters, napkin rings, sculptures etc. I counted infront of me, at least 15 items that would need to be washed later on. And that was only the first course (of many). At times it seemed more like a pottery exhibition than dinner. This does explain the very low unemployment rate in Japan. They always need dish-hands.
The following day came the moment when I finally became accepted. See, my actual job title is as ALT. "Assistant Language Teacher". The emphasis is always on the A. Often I feel more like a pet than a teacher. The English teachers might take me for a walk or two every day, but I could never play in the yard without a leash. I may sound complainy right now, but considering my teaching resume, this is probably the right call.Well, anyways, that following day, one of my teachers took me aside and said "Ruben, I have some bad news... we are going to have to put you down...". No, I'm kidding. He said he had a meeting when we were supposed to have a class. "Can you please take the class on your own?".
You know what they say, you take a dog off its leash, and it will run wild. Here I was, the new, unqualified, inexperienced, 21 year old foriegner, thrown into the deep end. It was fantastic. To be honest, it didn't really make much difference. It was almost the same lesson as the one before: half an hour of a word game, and then I sang and played two songs on the guitar. For one song, I even played a long intro. That really has no relevance to learning English, but it was fun. I wasn't an Assistant this time. I wasn't teaching language, and to be honest, I wasn't even teaching. I was the "anti ALT". But for that moment, that special moment, I was trusted in my job and I forgot I was new and different.
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