Souji-Time Part Two
It has come to my attention that several key aspects of souji-time were unintentionally omitted from my previous entry. I shall here make amends, as much as I am able.
I mentioned earlier that we have to move the desks across the room in order to clean the floors. As we have 40 desks in each classroom, that is actually a slightly involved maneuver. My standard method of moving desks is one I learned from my students: Get behind a row and bulldoze until the desks either topple or wind up (roughly) where they're supposed to. Now, I had grown somewhat famous among the students for my desk-pushing abilities. Somehow the fact that I might be stronger than even the burliest of the 120-pound baseball players seems never to have occured to my students. This was humorous to me not only because I am a full-grown man (albeit skinny), but also because I am bigger than the average Japanese full-grown man. Honestly, what did they expect? Nonetheless, when I was able to move, say, eight desks in a row without too much exertion, my students were genuinely amazed. This is but one among the innumerable feats for which I have earned inordinate praise during my stay in Japan--to the degree that I now have but the loosest, faintest grasp on reality regarding my own abilities. For all I know at this point, I may well be Superman.
On a fateful day but a few weeks gone by, my world of desk bull-dozing fame came plummeting down upon my head. On this day, one of my English teachers came to my room to supervise during souji-time (she was trying to help me). I performed my standard swift relocation of 7 to 8 desks, and her life nearly expired. I don't know what all was said in Japanese (fortunately) before she was finally able to spurt out in English, "Mr. Peter, you did a very bad thing!" And indeed, I did. As I now know--and as my students knew the whole time, those little punks!--bulldozing desks during souji-time is in fact a very, very bad thing. What makes me laugh about it even now was her response, beyond merely the words, when she informed me of my error: She was utterly shocked, as if I had just willfully taken in hand humankind's universal set of morally prescribed behavior and shattered it upon the ground.
I have one glaring omission regarding souji-time: The post-sweeping cleaning of the floors. I mentioned that boys use dirty rags to race along the floors, but I forgot to mention an alternate game that they often play with the rags. Many times, the boys will line up against a wall in my classroom, rag to the floor, kick off from the wall, and slide head-long with the rag in front of them as far as they are able to go. Then that boy leaves his rag, and the next attempts to best the previous boy's distance. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the whole of these students task during souji-time. It used to bother me that they were able to be such freeloaders, but my indignation has slowly melted away, aided by my realization that NO ONE actually cleans during souji-time. Yea verily, indignation has been ousted by a little thing I like to call... envy. No matter how I try, I can't shake from myself a desire to take my own rag in hand and show those little punks that I--Mr. Peter, former Great Mover of Desks, a veritable Superman!--can push so far across the floor that, were I so inclined, I could easily bloody my head on the opposite wall. Ha, that'd show them! Only the joint power of two things has thusfar been able to restrain such an attempt: 1) An utter exertion of self-control, and 2) the fact that my mother wouldn't approve of my sliding around on the floor in my Sunday trousers.
My resolve in this matter may not stand forever. If someday in the near future I should come to your door bloodied of head, you need not ask why.
I mentioned earlier that we have to move the desks across the room in order to clean the floors. As we have 40 desks in each classroom, that is actually a slightly involved maneuver. My standard method of moving desks is one I learned from my students: Get behind a row and bulldoze until the desks either topple or wind up (roughly) where they're supposed to. Now, I had grown somewhat famous among the students for my desk-pushing abilities. Somehow the fact that I might be stronger than even the burliest of the 120-pound baseball players seems never to have occured to my students. This was humorous to me not only because I am a full-grown man (albeit skinny), but also because I am bigger than the average Japanese full-grown man. Honestly, what did they expect? Nonetheless, when I was able to move, say, eight desks in a row without too much exertion, my students were genuinely amazed. This is but one among the innumerable feats for which I have earned inordinate praise during my stay in Japan--to the degree that I now have but the loosest, faintest grasp on reality regarding my own abilities. For all I know at this point, I may well be Superman.
On a fateful day but a few weeks gone by, my world of desk bull-dozing fame came plummeting down upon my head. On this day, one of my English teachers came to my room to supervise during souji-time (she was trying to help me). I performed my standard swift relocation of 7 to 8 desks, and her life nearly expired. I don't know what all was said in Japanese (fortunately) before she was finally able to spurt out in English, "Mr. Peter, you did a very bad thing!" And indeed, I did. As I now know--and as my students knew the whole time, those little punks!--bulldozing desks during souji-time is in fact a very, very bad thing. What makes me laugh about it even now was her response, beyond merely the words, when she informed me of my error: She was utterly shocked, as if I had just willfully taken in hand humankind's universal set of morally prescribed behavior and shattered it upon the ground.
I have one glaring omission regarding souji-time: The post-sweeping cleaning of the floors. I mentioned that boys use dirty rags to race along the floors, but I forgot to mention an alternate game that they often play with the rags. Many times, the boys will line up against a wall in my classroom, rag to the floor, kick off from the wall, and slide head-long with the rag in front of them as far as they are able to go. Then that boy leaves his rag, and the next attempts to best the previous boy's distance. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the whole of these students task during souji-time. It used to bother me that they were able to be such freeloaders, but my indignation has slowly melted away, aided by my realization that NO ONE actually cleans during souji-time. Yea verily, indignation has been ousted by a little thing I like to call... envy. No matter how I try, I can't shake from myself a desire to take my own rag in hand and show those little punks that I--Mr. Peter, former Great Mover of Desks, a veritable Superman!--can push so far across the floor that, were I so inclined, I could easily bloody my head on the opposite wall. Ha, that'd show them! Only the joint power of two things has thusfar been able to restrain such an attempt: 1) An utter exertion of self-control, and 2) the fact that my mother wouldn't approve of my sliding around on the floor in my Sunday trousers.
My resolve in this matter may not stand forever. If someday in the near future I should come to your door bloodied of head, you need not ask why.
posted by Peter Rice at 7:20 PM
1 Comments:
Peter,
I have thoroughly enjoyed your documentation of souji time. I am fascinated by the way educational system uses child labor in the schools (i.e. cleaning and serving the school lunch)-- it is quite impressive and I honestly think it teaches them a good bit of social responsibility. And I had never noticed that they really use no chemicals in the cleaning of the schools. Anyhoo, do let us know if you ever engage in one of the great rag races which I believe must take place daily all over the country of Japan. Ki o tsukete! :)
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