Desk: Part Deux
It's been so long since I wrote the previous half of this novella that I can hardly remember the vein in which it was written. Picking back up the spirit of an earlier work is actually quite difficult, or so it seems to me. I'll do my best.
Chapter ?
After searching the school for my missing desk for about an hour (it's a big school), I succeeded in ruling out all but a few classrooms as the relocation point of my desk. I was unable to rule out those desks because they were in a classroom that was either locked or too full of people for me to make a clandestine inspection.
Remembering a Sherlock Holmes' story I once read, I went back to my classroom to make sure I hadn't missed any clues. Sure enough, I had. On the chair that had supplanted my own--that hideous, unsightly thing, with cracked vinyl and squeaky joints--was written, on faded paper, the number of a classroom--3-5 (3rd grade, 5th class). When I realized this was one of the few classrooms I hadn't been able to rule out, I decided to act.
Chapter Next
I went to my teacher's room to procure the services of a man named Yasuno*. Yasuno deserves an entire chapter or two in his own right, but I simply haven't the time. Suffice it to say, Yasuno (Sensei) is both an English teacher and the head of my 3rd graders, meaning he has access to the only language I can speak well enough for a crisis and he has access to all of the 3rd grade classroom keys. I think you can see where this was going.
I couldn't make any accusations right off, as that would be culturally offensive, so I simply told him, "Mr. Yasuno, my desk is gone." I expected to have to go through a lengthy explanation before getting any action, but before I could get on with my spiel, he had jumped out of his chair with a start.
I quickly led him to my English room. Upon arriving he said, "Oh, here it is," and pointed to the impostor. I don't know if he simply couldn't understand me or just couldn't accept the reality of what I was saying, but it took him nearly a minute before he accepted that this desk, though in my room, was not in fact mine. It was the desk in my room, but it wasn't my desk. My desk was gone. This was another desk. I didn't know why it was in my room. Yes, it really wasn't my desk. It was all very shocking.
As he stood there in bewildered contemplation, I turned the desk seat around, showing him the faintly written "3-5" on its back.
We were off in a flash!
*Yasuno is not his real name.
Chapter Next to the Next to Last (on the not-Last side of things)
I couldn't believe it as we stood there. We were actually unlocking--breaking into--the 3-5 classroom. Yasuno seemed to have swelled to twice his normal size, filled, I was sure, with righteous indignation on my behalf. He flung the door open, signaled me to enter, and I marched to the desk. It looked like my old desk (as much as one metal desk can resemble another), but on top of it were various items belonging to the homeroom teacher. Surely it can't be my desk, I thought. Then I opened the top door, and to my everlasting astonishment, within that drawer lay, undisturbed, my personal belongings. My toothbrush, the stickers I bought in America, the communication cards I had made for my students, and all kinds of knick-knacks--my junk lay within. I was shocked.
This teacher actually stole my desk! I couldn't believe it. Without a word, without a comment, a hint, a memo, a courtesy warning, she up and took my desk--which was full of my stuff!!!
Yasuno was shocked too.
Then ensued what can only be described as an interrogation.
Chapter: Interrogation
The formerly righteously indignant Yasuno had transformed, with the opening of that drawer, into a new man: The political, the shrewd, the I-want-to-be-Kocho-Sensei*-someday Yasuno, a man not likely to stick out his neck to aid an incensed foreigner against a powerful, sempai-ship possessing teacher.
But I had to know.
"Is this normal? Is this okay?"
No answer but an equivocal grunt.
"In America, if someone stole my desk, I would think maybe they had bad feelings about me. Is it different in Japan?"
More noncommittal noises.
"In America, if this happened, I would think maybe this teacher was being a little rude..."
This went on for a minute or two, until he finally produced a cutting insight: "I think maybe Ms. On-ma wanted your desk."
Oh, thanks for letting me in on that. I was wondering why she moved my desk halfway across the school!
After more interrogation, I felt persuaded that the homeroom teacher's actions were indeed far outside the bounds of acceptable behavior for a Japanese teacher. A final decision awaited me.
*Kochou-sensei = Principal
Chapter Last
Dou shimashou ka? What should I do?
I can't read another person's soul, but I think Yasuno-Sensei had firmly made up his mind to accomplish a single, unshakable objective: Inaction. If I had said, "Well that was a surprise! No one's stolen my desk in several weeks!" and walked away happily, he would've walked away right behind me, sharing in my laugh. If I had decided to steal my desk back and leave a nasty note, he would've helped me carry it and maybe even have helped me write the note. There's a certain amount of deniability a Japanese person has when dealing with foreigners: "I had to do it, or the gaijin would've gone crazy. You know how they can be..." But that's only conjecture. I don't know what exactly was going on within that man's head. I only know what he did: He waited for me to act, he waited to respond.
Here's what I did: I told him I was very surprised and a little upset about my desk, that if On-ma needed my desk so badly, she was free to it, but I wish she had asked me for it because it was very stressful for me not knowing where my personal belongings had gone.
When he realized I wasn't going to go ballistic, he said, "I will tell On-ma-Sensei that you are very angry!"
I told him, thanks for wanting to embellish on my behalf, but that wouldn't be necessary.
Then he helped me load up my stuff and take it to my new desk. The old desk was gone.
Epilogue
I have no idea what On-ma was thinking when she stole my desk. She didn't even have a key to unlock three of the desk's four drawers. When I removed my things and left the desk to her, I was sorely, sorely tempted to leave it locked and not to leave the key. But that could only be perceived as spiteful (as it indeed would've been), and I knew that just wasn't the Christ-like thing to do. So I left her the key.
I have never since heard any mention of the incident from On-ma, Yasuno, or any other teacher at my school. Mention neither at school, nor outside. It was a tough situation, which could have gotten a little explosive, and I think in the Japanese mind that means... it never happened. But I could be wrong.
Overall, I enjoy my school life, and this episode is in no way representative of my general Japan experience. I share it mainly because I think it's just a crazy story--and I'm glad it's mine to tell. In fact, my settled feelings towards the whole incident border on gratefulness. Who else can say they had a felony committed against them by a 5-feet-tall Japanese public school teacher in broad daylight?! That's crazy!
Chapter ?
After searching the school for my missing desk for about an hour (it's a big school), I succeeded in ruling out all but a few classrooms as the relocation point of my desk. I was unable to rule out those desks because they were in a classroom that was either locked or too full of people for me to make a clandestine inspection.
Remembering a Sherlock Holmes' story I once read, I went back to my classroom to make sure I hadn't missed any clues. Sure enough, I had. On the chair that had supplanted my own--that hideous, unsightly thing, with cracked vinyl and squeaky joints--was written, on faded paper, the number of a classroom--3-5 (3rd grade, 5th class). When I realized this was one of the few classrooms I hadn't been able to rule out, I decided to act.
Chapter Next
I went to my teacher's room to procure the services of a man named Yasuno*. Yasuno deserves an entire chapter or two in his own right, but I simply haven't the time. Suffice it to say, Yasuno (Sensei) is both an English teacher and the head of my 3rd graders, meaning he has access to the only language I can speak well enough for a crisis and he has access to all of the 3rd grade classroom keys. I think you can see where this was going.
I couldn't make any accusations right off, as that would be culturally offensive, so I simply told him, "Mr. Yasuno, my desk is gone." I expected to have to go through a lengthy explanation before getting any action, but before I could get on with my spiel, he had jumped out of his chair with a start.
I quickly led him to my English room. Upon arriving he said, "Oh, here it is," and pointed to the impostor. I don't know if he simply couldn't understand me or just couldn't accept the reality of what I was saying, but it took him nearly a minute before he accepted that this desk, though in my room, was not in fact mine. It was the desk in my room, but it wasn't my desk. My desk was gone. This was another desk. I didn't know why it was in my room. Yes, it really wasn't my desk. It was all very shocking.
As he stood there in bewildered contemplation, I turned the desk seat around, showing him the faintly written "3-5" on its back.
We were off in a flash!
*Yasuno is not his real name.
Chapter Next to the Next to Last (on the not-Last side of things)
I couldn't believe it as we stood there. We were actually unlocking--breaking into--the 3-5 classroom. Yasuno seemed to have swelled to twice his normal size, filled, I was sure, with righteous indignation on my behalf. He flung the door open, signaled me to enter, and I marched to the desk. It looked like my old desk (as much as one metal desk can resemble another), but on top of it were various items belonging to the homeroom teacher. Surely it can't be my desk, I thought. Then I opened the top door, and to my everlasting astonishment, within that drawer lay, undisturbed, my personal belongings. My toothbrush, the stickers I bought in America, the communication cards I had made for my students, and all kinds of knick-knacks--my junk lay within. I was shocked.
This teacher actually stole my desk! I couldn't believe it. Without a word, without a comment, a hint, a memo, a courtesy warning, she up and took my desk--which was full of my stuff!!!
Yasuno was shocked too.
Then ensued what can only be described as an interrogation.
Chapter: Interrogation
The formerly righteously indignant Yasuno had transformed, with the opening of that drawer, into a new man: The political, the shrewd, the I-want-to-be-Kocho-Sensei*-someday Yasuno, a man not likely to stick out his neck to aid an incensed foreigner against a powerful, sempai-ship possessing teacher.
But I had to know.
"Is this normal? Is this okay?"
No answer but an equivocal grunt.
"In America, if someone stole my desk, I would think maybe they had bad feelings about me. Is it different in Japan?"
More noncommittal noises.
"In America, if this happened, I would think maybe this teacher was being a little rude..."
This went on for a minute or two, until he finally produced a cutting insight: "I think maybe Ms. On-ma wanted your desk."
Oh, thanks for letting me in on that. I was wondering why she moved my desk halfway across the school!
After more interrogation, I felt persuaded that the homeroom teacher's actions were indeed far outside the bounds of acceptable behavior for a Japanese teacher. A final decision awaited me.
*Kochou-sensei = Principal
Chapter Last
Dou shimashou ka? What should I do?
I can't read another person's soul, but I think Yasuno-Sensei had firmly made up his mind to accomplish a single, unshakable objective: Inaction. If I had said, "Well that was a surprise! No one's stolen my desk in several weeks!" and walked away happily, he would've walked away right behind me, sharing in my laugh. If I had decided to steal my desk back and leave a nasty note, he would've helped me carry it and maybe even have helped me write the note. There's a certain amount of deniability a Japanese person has when dealing with foreigners: "I had to do it, or the gaijin would've gone crazy. You know how they can be..." But that's only conjecture. I don't know what exactly was going on within that man's head. I only know what he did: He waited for me to act, he waited to respond.
Here's what I did: I told him I was very surprised and a little upset about my desk, that if On-ma needed my desk so badly, she was free to it, but I wish she had asked me for it because it was very stressful for me not knowing where my personal belongings had gone.
When he realized I wasn't going to go ballistic, he said, "I will tell On-ma-Sensei that you are very angry!"
I told him, thanks for wanting to embellish on my behalf, but that wouldn't be necessary.
Then he helped me load up my stuff and take it to my new desk. The old desk was gone.
Epilogue
I have no idea what On-ma was thinking when she stole my desk. She didn't even have a key to unlock three of the desk's four drawers. When I removed my things and left the desk to her, I was sorely, sorely tempted to leave it locked and not to leave the key. But that could only be perceived as spiteful (as it indeed would've been), and I knew that just wasn't the Christ-like thing to do. So I left her the key.
I have never since heard any mention of the incident from On-ma, Yasuno, or any other teacher at my school. Mention neither at school, nor outside. It was a tough situation, which could have gotten a little explosive, and I think in the Japanese mind that means... it never happened. But I could be wrong.
Overall, I enjoy my school life, and this episode is in no way representative of my general Japan experience. I share it mainly because I think it's just a crazy story--and I'm glad it's mine to tell. In fact, my settled feelings towards the whole incident border on gratefulness. Who else can say they had a felony committed against them by a 5-feet-tall Japanese public school teacher in broad daylight?! That's crazy!
posted by Peter Rice at 12:49 AM
3 Comments:
Peter: perhaps you should have warned us on how long this article and the fact that you used big words.
Great story! Thanks for chronicling it for all time. :)
I'm proud of your Christ-like attitude in a peculiar, yet interesting situation!
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