Moonlighting

After Chris left GEOS, I began to wonder what caused the whole commotion with him in the first place. Was GEOS really that bad? Sid, our area trainer, seemed like a decent guy to me. Molly, though she hated our manager, was telling me to not let "those GEOS bastards get to you." We would go over the Monday Japan Times behind closed doors like two plotting thieves and look at our options.

"Hey, look at this," I said. "EC Hokkaido. The great outdoors. I've heard it's a lot like Canada. Probably lots of good hiking, too." I was thinking of the leaving the concrete-pasted rivers and coastlines of the Kanto Plain. Hokkaido looked attractive. Molly thought so, too.

"I don't blame you if you go. I'd be jealous. You'd be leaving this dump."
Chris and I had written off Molly as a workaholic. If she wasn't teaching, she was prepping--for classes 2 weeks down the road! It totally blew me away. Two weeks in advance? Of the 3 of us, she had the roughest schedule, teaching at least 6 classes back-to-back each day. The managers had filled her schedule because some students insisted on having a female teacher.

I quickly dismissed thoughts of moving to Hokkaido when I heard through the grapevine that the Odawara School Board was looking for volunteers to go into elementary schools and "teach" some basic English. I heard about the cushy jobs the JETs and ALTs had. Maybe I could make some contacts and move into that.

The guy in charge of the ALTs in Odawara was Mr. Koizumi, Special K as he was known. I wasn't going to get rich volunteering-- they paid me a stipend of 3,000 yen each morning I volunteered. I made sure Molly would punch me in before noon if I wasn't back at GEOS in time.

"All you have to do, Shawn, is introduce yourself, tell them where you're from, teach them some basic English, like 'Hi, how are you?' Most of them haven't met a foreigner before so expect them to be shy. The aim is to expose them to another culture. I'll translate for the students and help you out."

"Alright, let's do it," I agreed, hoping in the back of my mind that this would lead to something better. I filled out some paperwork and was placed on the payroll of the City of Odawara. Special K said he'd pick me up in front of the train station first thing in the morning next Tuesday.

A Japanese elementary school can be summed up in 2 words: prison block. The building was a long concrete block with a dirt field out front. The hallways were poorly lit and there was no central heating in any of the rooms. I took my shoes off at the genkan, put on a pair of slippers and shuffled on in. I had a cup of coffee with the principal and Special K translated for me. Just idle chit-chat like where I was from, how long had I been in Japan. I said a few words in Japanese and the principal thought that was the neatest thing.

Word of my arrival spread like fire through the school. Every so often, I'd see a black head quickly peek around a corner, flash a smile, and then disappear. Some kids would try jumping up to peek through the door window.

I came prepared for the class窶祢 was wearing my Winnie-the-Pooh necktie and was armed with a bunch of used Canadian stamps, carefully steamed and cut from the envelopes. I had heard of a teacher using the stamps as a prize in games with little kids. I figured it was worth a try.

When I walked into the classroom, all of the kids squirmed in their seats. Wow. Their first real gaijin in the flesh! The girls had already spotted my necktie and were pointing at it. After Special K explained what we were going to do this morning, I started off with a short introduction in a slow, deliberate voice.

"Hi, my name is Shawn. I'm from C-A-N-A-D-A. Do you know where C-A-N-A-D-A is?"! I asked pointing to Mexico on the wall map behind me.
"Chigau! NO!!!!" they shouted.
"Huh?" I scratched my head. "You mean here?" I pointed to Australia.
"NO!!!!"
"Huh?"
"Does anybody know?" Special K translated.

The class pushed little Masako-chan to the front. Apparently she was the only one in the class to have traveled overseas窶杯hat made her the expert. She pointed out Canada and I gave her a stamp with wheat fields on it. She took it from my hand like a squirrel snatches a peanut and bounced back to show her classmates. The stamp got their attention.

I did some Q&A with the kids and found out they thought Canada was all snow, bears and maple syrup. Special K and I modeled some basic greetings and how to shake hands properly. We practiced it as a group and then all 40 kids窶背ith their snotty, slimy and sweaty hands窶派ad their turn with me. They never did make eye contact like I told them to, choosing to look at my tie instead and report back to their friends how many Pooh-sans they counted. Oh well.

It was time to say good-bye but the kids wanted me to hang around and play. I told Special K that I had some time so we all went outside for a round of dodge ball. I didn't last too long dodging balls from all directions. With me on the outside, nobody else would either. After beaning one kid in the head, I started aiming lower and throwing with a little less mustard. The kids didn't like it and yelled for me to throw it harder. I delivered a blazing windmill shot that whizzed past everyone. They squealed with laughter having had a brush with death. Everyone laughed even harder when my next pitch submarined a kid and spun him onto his head. To my relief, he got up smiling.

Time flies when you're having fun. Just as I said my last good-byes, something really weird happened. The kids asked for my autograph. They brought me scraps of paper, notebooks, yo-yos, and even offered body parts! I signed them all, even one kid's arm. They thought the world of my chicken scrawl signature. As I rode back in the car with Special K, I wondered what the kid with the autographed yo-yo would think in five years. Would he still have it? Would he remember why someone signed it?

My first visit was a success. Despite outside appearances, the elementary school was no different from when I was in grade school. But it got me wondering about my junior and senior high school students at GEOS. What was is that took the piss out of them and turned them into drones after elementary school? It couldn't all be hormones, could it?

Special K pulled up in front of GEOS. I was going to be on time and get in before the manager. As I was getting out of the car, he said something to me that I never heard from anyone at GEOS:

"Thank-you very much, Shawn. Great job this morning."