Tuesday, October 07, 2008
I Had a Bad Day (No Singing, Please)
Had a not-so-great day which became a bad day by never ending.
Things started poorly when I arrived in the English room with an entire class of fourth-graders waiting for me. I wasn't supposed to have a class at that time, the teacher mistook this week's schedule with next week's. Since he and his students were already there, I agreed to just teach them and get past it. It's one less I'll have to do next week at the same time. They were noisy but otherwise things went smoothly.
Second period was my only free period of the day. I spent the time organizing all my papers and flash cards for the rest of the day and then I cracked open Michael Kane's Game Boys. So far it's a compelling story about some folks trying to make it in the world of competitive video gaming...a world that apparently exists! Aside from a segment on MTV years ago on Fatal1ty, I was unaware that pro "teams" existed. I have heard of the game they play (thanks to the generosity of Half-Life bundles, I actually own a copy) but I've never actually booted it up or watched any footage of it in action. Like most online competitive shooters, professional or not, it strikes me as way too hard for me to jump in flail around.
Enough about the nice new book I'm reading, let's get back to work. Third period was a better-than-I-expected class of second graders, most of whom were eager to raise their hands and try to respond to my antics. Kids that young always need a little reminder now and then to look forward, stop kicking the seat in front of them, and so on, but I honestly felt things went well. So far, so good right? Busy but not unbearable?
Fourth period was English time for the other second grade division and it was a total disaster. They were twice as unruly as their counterparts in third period, only there were fewer checks coaxing them to quiet down and look at me. Multiple children insisted on laying down, standing on the benches or otherwise being disruptive. One little girl refused to acknowledge my greeting of "Hello," going so far as to contort her face away from mine, lest our eyes actually meet. Students like that are not as uncommon as you'd might think in Japan and it's extremely disheartening. That's a child deciding that you and your language are impossible to understand.
But I must put all that aside and talk about one little boy in particular, because he is a juggernaut. Not the Juggernaut, of course, but he is a force of disruption and chaos that no one at this school knows how to stop or even contain. When he first entered the room, he tried to pick up and move one of the tables. Thwarted by the staff, his next target was one of the benches. Perhaps trying to appease him (like that ever worked), the staff let him take the bench and move it towards the back of the room. They then sat on either side of him (yes, this seven year old requires two adults to supervise him) and tried to prevent him from embarking on any more redecoration missions, although he did successfully climb on top of the table and bench more than once. With this much going on in the room, it's a miracle I even got the meager sliver of attention from the children that I did.
Lunch was lunch, although it is now chilly enough so that my soup and rice get cold before I have a chance to eat it. This is the only school where a cold lunch is a regular problem because they insist on serving my lunch in the staff room ten to twenty minutes before lunchtime actually starts. I pick up my lunch and then head to a classroom to eat, which means I have to wait for the children to stop fighting with each other, settle down, and distribute their food amongst themselves. By the time we're all ready to eat, my food has been sitting out for more than half an hour.
Fifth period was practically blissful, as the third graders are remarkably well-behaved and receptive to my lessons. My throat appreciated the rest because I didn't need to shout at them at all. They were so good we even had time to play a game and do extra practice because there was so much time left over. Thanks kids!
Finally (yeah right...this day isn't over) I had fifth graders in sixth period. All the energy I saved the period before, I consumed it in the first five minutes. Much like the little girl in fourth period, I had multiple students evade my gaze or ignore my questions simply because (and they love telling me this) "I don't understand English." When I asked the class to identify a picture of Mt. Fuji, only two kids were willing to raise their hands. I had to call them out on that, asking aloud why only two children in a class of thirty-five recognized Japan's most famous thing. That got about half of them to 'fess up and raise their hands, but that still leaves plenty of fibbers. When I then asked the class to identify where Mt. Fuji is (not which prefecture, but what country), the only volunteers I got insisted on answering in Japanese, even though toddlers can say "Japan" in English.
I didn't take many foreign-language classes when I was in elementary school (my tiny-ass town didn't even start mandatory lessons until middle school) but I had a couple impromptu encounters in my day. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of learning Spanish and I didn't stick with it at all, but I never remembered children getting angry or scared or argumentative when confronted by strange-sounding words. I know there's an element of "why are we here" in any mandatory language class, and there are valid reasons to question English education in Japanese elementary schools (compared to say, Korean or Chinese). Yet none of that can explain the downright anti-English antagonism that permeates a significant percentage of these kids. The frequency and depth of these lessons is so minimal in every respect, it simply cannot support this level of frustration. Combine that with a oddball fascination all these kids have with random nonsense English on their clothing and in their surroundings and I'm positively baffled.
It's getting late (this has certainly taken more than an hour) but the epilogue to all this was a trip to the jidōkan (pictured above) for an after-school English lesson. I was completely exhausted and borderline hoarse, but attendance was mercifully light and they seemed as tired as I was. I can do pretty much anything I want for these sessions, so we spent most of the first forty minutes just playing Red Light, Green Light. There was some funny business inside when not one but two children tried to go full-on rag doll in order to avoid speaking in English. They eventually relented when the other teachers (and students) present scraped them off the floor and held them up until their limp legs finally took over.
So it wasn't a good day. Tomorrow will certainly be better. Thursday will be...I'll explain later.
But Friday? And this three-day holiday weekend? Should be pure awesome.
Things started poorly when I arrived in the English room with an entire class of fourth-graders waiting for me. I wasn't supposed to have a class at that time, the teacher mistook this week's schedule with next week's. Since he and his students were already there, I agreed to just teach them and get past it. It's one less I'll have to do next week at the same time. They were noisy but otherwise things went smoothly.
Second period was my only free period of the day. I spent the time organizing all my papers and flash cards for the rest of the day and then I cracked open Michael Kane's Game Boys. So far it's a compelling story about some folks trying to make it in the world of competitive video gaming...a world that apparently exists! Aside from a segment on MTV years ago on Fatal1ty, I was unaware that pro "teams" existed. I have heard of the game they play (thanks to the generosity of Half-Life bundles, I actually own a copy) but I've never actually booted it up or watched any footage of it in action. Like most online competitive shooters, professional or not, it strikes me as way too hard for me to jump in flail around.
Enough about the nice new book I'm reading, let's get back to work. Third period was a better-than-I-expected class of second graders, most of whom were eager to raise their hands and try to respond to my antics. Kids that young always need a little reminder now and then to look forward, stop kicking the seat in front of them, and so on, but I honestly felt things went well. So far, so good right? Busy but not unbearable?
Fourth period was English time for the other second grade division and it was a total disaster. They were twice as unruly as their counterparts in third period, only there were fewer checks coaxing them to quiet down and look at me. Multiple children insisted on laying down, standing on the benches or otherwise being disruptive. One little girl refused to acknowledge my greeting of "Hello," going so far as to contort her face away from mine, lest our eyes actually meet. Students like that are not as uncommon as you'd might think in Japan and it's extremely disheartening. That's a child deciding that you and your language are impossible to understand.
But I must put all that aside and talk about one little boy in particular, because he is a juggernaut. Not the Juggernaut, of course, but he is a force of disruption and chaos that no one at this school knows how to stop or even contain. When he first entered the room, he tried to pick up and move one of the tables. Thwarted by the staff, his next target was one of the benches. Perhaps trying to appease him (like that ever worked), the staff let him take the bench and move it towards the back of the room. They then sat on either side of him (yes, this seven year old requires two adults to supervise him) and tried to prevent him from embarking on any more redecoration missions, although he did successfully climb on top of the table and bench more than once. With this much going on in the room, it's a miracle I even got the meager sliver of attention from the children that I did.
Lunch was lunch, although it is now chilly enough so that my soup and rice get cold before I have a chance to eat it. This is the only school where a cold lunch is a regular problem because they insist on serving my lunch in the staff room ten to twenty minutes before lunchtime actually starts. I pick up my lunch and then head to a classroom to eat, which means I have to wait for the children to stop fighting with each other, settle down, and distribute their food amongst themselves. By the time we're all ready to eat, my food has been sitting out for more than half an hour.
Fifth period was practically blissful, as the third graders are remarkably well-behaved and receptive to my lessons. My throat appreciated the rest because I didn't need to shout at them at all. They were so good we even had time to play a game and do extra practice because there was so much time left over. Thanks kids!
Finally (yeah right...this day isn't over) I had fifth graders in sixth period. All the energy I saved the period before, I consumed it in the first five minutes. Much like the little girl in fourth period, I had multiple students evade my gaze or ignore my questions simply because (and they love telling me this) "I don't understand English." When I asked the class to identify a picture of Mt. Fuji, only two kids were willing to raise their hands. I had to call them out on that, asking aloud why only two children in a class of thirty-five recognized Japan's most famous thing. That got about half of them to 'fess up and raise their hands, but that still leaves plenty of fibbers. When I then asked the class to identify where Mt. Fuji is (not which prefecture, but what country), the only volunteers I got insisted on answering in Japanese, even though toddlers can say "Japan" in English.
I didn't take many foreign-language classes when I was in elementary school (my tiny-ass town didn't even start mandatory lessons until middle school) but I had a couple impromptu encounters in my day. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of learning Spanish and I didn't stick with it at all, but I never remembered children getting angry or scared or argumentative when confronted by strange-sounding words. I know there's an element of "why are we here" in any mandatory language class, and there are valid reasons to question English education in Japanese elementary schools (compared to say, Korean or Chinese). Yet none of that can explain the downright anti-English antagonism that permeates a significant percentage of these kids. The frequency and depth of these lessons is so minimal in every respect, it simply cannot support this level of frustration. Combine that with a oddball fascination all these kids have with random nonsense English on their clothing and in their surroundings and I'm positively baffled.
It's getting late (this has certainly taken more than an hour) but the epilogue to all this was a trip to the jidōkan (pictured above) for an after-school English lesson. I was completely exhausted and borderline hoarse, but attendance was mercifully light and they seemed as tired as I was. I can do pretty much anything I want for these sessions, so we spent most of the first forty minutes just playing Red Light, Green Light. There was some funny business inside when not one but two children tried to go full-on rag doll in order to avoid speaking in English. They eventually relented when the other teachers (and students) present scraped them off the floor and held them up until their limp legs finally took over.
So it wasn't a good day. Tomorrow will certainly be better. Thursday will be...I'll explain later.
But Friday? And this three-day holiday weekend? Should be pure awesome.
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