A Guest Uninvited
Something interesting happened at school on Monday... (Sorry, another long post. Ganbatte kudasai!)
3:35 English "Chat" Room (ECR)
I sit down at a meeting with two English teachers, A1 and A2, and a student teacher. It's a routine meeting to talk about the student teacher's performance at a class that she and I co-taught the week before.
When the meeting begins, to my surprise, the other teachers have a sheet of paper that I am missing. The student teacher realizes I am missing the paper (Japanese people are very observant--probably because they never waste time making eye contact) and politely hands one to me. I peruse the paper slowly, painstakingly, making out as many of the Kanji (Chinese symbols) as I can. Meanwhile, the teachers are off to the races discussing things in rapid-fire--but always polite--Japanese. I could probably understand a little of what they're saying if it were said at half the speed, but at normal speed, I am just out of luck. After reading over the paper as best I can, I realize it's a lesson plan--and one I've never seen before. That means it's not the plan we co-taught the week before. So why am I here?...
As the Japanese dances energetically on, I ponder scenes from earlier in the day...
2:15 A2's Homeroom
I enter and ask A2: "So we will meet later in ECR? To discuss tomorrow's observation class?"
A2: "Ah, yes, in ECR."
Peter: "What time will we meet?"
A2: "Umm... maybe 3:40. It will depend. First we will talk to the student teacher about her class. After that, we will talk about the observation class tomorrow."
Peter: "Okay. I'll be waiting in the ECR."
9:30 ECR--after a class
A1 tells me: "So tomorrow you and A2 have an observation class, I think."
Peter: "Yes, I think so."
A1: "Yes, so today after cleaning time, we had better meet--you, A2, and me--and talk about the plan. You are free?"
Peter: "Yes, I am. What time will we meet?"
A1: "We will meet here in the ECR... I don't know time. Maybe we can decide later? Okay?"
Peter: "No problem."
A1: "By the way, the student teacher has an observation class next period. I must go and watch it, so maybe I will miss some of our next class. Is it okay?"
Peter: "No problem."
3:30 Teachers' Room
Peter: "A1, do you know where A2 is? I was waiting in the ECR, but she didn't come."
A1: "Well, we are supposed to meet with the student teacher..."
Peter: "Yes, the meeting. That's why I was looking for her."
A1: "A2 told you to come now?"
Peter: "Well, I wasn't sure what time exactly..."
A1: "You will come?"
Peter: "Yeah, of course. I just wasn't sure of the time. Do you know where A2 is?"
A1: "No, I don't know. But I came here to tell her the meeting will start."
Peter: "Now?"
A1: "Yes, when she can come. You will come too?"
Peter: "So it is now. Yes, I'll go now. See you there!"
3:38 ECR--The Meeting
And that brings you up to speed on my thoughts at the climactical moment in the story--the moment where we are now. Sitting there, thinking about the various conversations I had had about this meeting earlier in the day, an epiphany struck me: I am not supposed to be at this meeting. The observation class being discussed is not the one I helped teach a week ago; it's one from earlier today about which I know nothing! I'm jama!
And the reason I thought I was supposed to come is because I've been speaking to people in a foreign language (to them). And the reason no one told me to leave or to come back later or to go drink some green tea, is because they're Japanese and didn't want to offend me!
When I looked over at my English teachers speaking in their rapid Japanese, knowing that all of them knew I wasn't supposed to be here, wondering what in the world they were thinking at that moment, having this meeting under the "stressful" circumstances of having a gaijin uninvited, I had to stifle a laugh. And that small laugh ricocheted off my stony face and echoed all the down to the deepest depths of me--and hurled itself up again, this time with an army of snickers, chuckles, guffaws, and knee-slaps. In a word, it was War. Burying my face in the lesson plan, I squirmed in my chair, fighting to kill the laughter plotting to explode--sitting here with three other teachers, discussing "very important things," at a meeting to which I had invited myself. I even tried biting my tongue, but alas, despite my efforts, a small snicker escaped from me.
And that just made things worse. I kept imagining how these stoic, work-bent Japanese women would react if their meeting were suddenly ruined by an outburst of uncontrollable laughter from the gaijin. (You may think it incredible, but I actually have a long history of untimely uncontrollable laughter. It all goes back to an early-morning men's prayer breakfast when I was 12... Ask Andrew or Dad for a full retelling.)
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Snickers were flying out of my mouth like sparks off a buzzsaw, and I was just about to explode completely. So I feigned a cough and bolted for the door. I stopped at a sink in the hallway and keeled over with laughter. I didn't actually fall all the way to the floor, but I think I would've, had I not been holding onto the sink. I was paralyzed for a good minute or two. I don't know for sure whether any of my students saw me standing there in the hall holding onto the sink, shaking with insane laughter, but I like to think at least one of them did. That might even be blogworthy in the Japanese world, if Japanese people blog...
My favorite part occurred lastly: At the end of the meeting, after cessation of the rapid-fire Japanese, A2 turns to me and says in a sincere, polite voice, "Okay now, Mr. Peter, please give Ms. Y----- some good advice." I looked the student teacher right in the eye and said, "I have no advice." Now it was the Japanese teachers' turn to snicker--it was a little embarrassing to ask me to give advice, since I didn't have any, but at the same time it would've been rude not to offer me a chance to give input. Then A1 says, "Yes, it's unfortunate that only A2 and I were able to observe Ms. Y-----'s class."
A2: "Yes, I think so too."
Me too, ladies, me too. Because had I been there, I wouldn't feel like such an idiot right now.
I really love those ladies. They crack me up!
3:35 English "Chat" Room (ECR)
I sit down at a meeting with two English teachers, A1 and A2, and a student teacher. It's a routine meeting to talk about the student teacher's performance at a class that she and I co-taught the week before.
When the meeting begins, to my surprise, the other teachers have a sheet of paper that I am missing. The student teacher realizes I am missing the paper (Japanese people are very observant--probably because they never waste time making eye contact) and politely hands one to me. I peruse the paper slowly, painstakingly, making out as many of the Kanji (Chinese symbols) as I can. Meanwhile, the teachers are off to the races discussing things in rapid-fire--but always polite--Japanese. I could probably understand a little of what they're saying if it were said at half the speed, but at normal speed, I am just out of luck. After reading over the paper as best I can, I realize it's a lesson plan--and one I've never seen before. That means it's not the plan we co-taught the week before. So why am I here?...
As the Japanese dances energetically on, I ponder scenes from earlier in the day...
2:15 A2's Homeroom
I enter and ask A2: "So we will meet later in ECR? To discuss tomorrow's observation class?"
A2: "Ah, yes, in ECR."
Peter: "What time will we meet?"
A2: "Umm... maybe 3:40. It will depend. First we will talk to the student teacher about her class. After that, we will talk about the observation class tomorrow."
Peter: "Okay. I'll be waiting in the ECR."
9:30 ECR--after a class
A1 tells me: "So tomorrow you and A2 have an observation class, I think."
Peter: "Yes, I think so."
A1: "Yes, so today after cleaning time, we had better meet--you, A2, and me--and talk about the plan. You are free?"
Peter: "Yes, I am. What time will we meet?"
A1: "We will meet here in the ECR... I don't know time. Maybe we can decide later? Okay?"
Peter: "No problem."
A1: "By the way, the student teacher has an observation class next period. I must go and watch it, so maybe I will miss some of our next class. Is it okay?"
Peter: "No problem."
3:30 Teachers' Room
Peter: "A1, do you know where A2 is? I was waiting in the ECR, but she didn't come."
A1: "Well, we are supposed to meet with the student teacher..."
Peter: "Yes, the meeting. That's why I was looking for her."
A1: "A2 told you to come now?"
Peter: "Well, I wasn't sure what time exactly..."
A1: "You will come?"
Peter: "Yeah, of course. I just wasn't sure of the time. Do you know where A2 is?"
A1: "No, I don't know. But I came here to tell her the meeting will start."
Peter: "Now?"
A1: "Yes, when she can come. You will come too?"
Peter: "So it is now. Yes, I'll go now. See you there!"
3:38 ECR--The Meeting
And that brings you up to speed on my thoughts at the climactical moment in the story--the moment where we are now. Sitting there, thinking about the various conversations I had had about this meeting earlier in the day, an epiphany struck me: I am not supposed to be at this meeting. The observation class being discussed is not the one I helped teach a week ago; it's one from earlier today about which I know nothing! I'm jama!
And the reason I thought I was supposed to come is because I've been speaking to people in a foreign language (to them). And the reason no one told me to leave or to come back later or to go drink some green tea, is because they're Japanese and didn't want to offend me!
When I looked over at my English teachers speaking in their rapid Japanese, knowing that all of them knew I wasn't supposed to be here, wondering what in the world they were thinking at that moment, having this meeting under the "stressful" circumstances of having a gaijin uninvited, I had to stifle a laugh. And that small laugh ricocheted off my stony face and echoed all the down to the deepest depths of me--and hurled itself up again, this time with an army of snickers, chuckles, guffaws, and knee-slaps. In a word, it was War. Burying my face in the lesson plan, I squirmed in my chair, fighting to kill the laughter plotting to explode--sitting here with three other teachers, discussing "very important things," at a meeting to which I had invited myself. I even tried biting my tongue, but alas, despite my efforts, a small snicker escaped from me.
And that just made things worse. I kept imagining how these stoic, work-bent Japanese women would react if their meeting were suddenly ruined by an outburst of uncontrollable laughter from the gaijin. (You may think it incredible, but I actually have a long history of untimely uncontrollable laughter. It all goes back to an early-morning men's prayer breakfast when I was 12... Ask Andrew or Dad for a full retelling.)
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Snickers were flying out of my mouth like sparks off a buzzsaw, and I was just about to explode completely. So I feigned a cough and bolted for the door. I stopped at a sink in the hallway and keeled over with laughter. I didn't actually fall all the way to the floor, but I think I would've, had I not been holding onto the sink. I was paralyzed for a good minute or two. I don't know for sure whether any of my students saw me standing there in the hall holding onto the sink, shaking with insane laughter, but I like to think at least one of them did. That might even be blogworthy in the Japanese world, if Japanese people blog...
My favorite part occurred lastly: At the end of the meeting, after cessation of the rapid-fire Japanese, A2 turns to me and says in a sincere, polite voice, "Okay now, Mr. Peter, please give Ms. Y----- some good advice." I looked the student teacher right in the eye and said, "I have no advice." Now it was the Japanese teachers' turn to snicker--it was a little embarrassing to ask me to give advice, since I didn't have any, but at the same time it would've been rude not to offer me a chance to give input. Then A1 says, "Yes, it's unfortunate that only A2 and I were able to observe Ms. Y-----'s class."
A2: "Yes, I think so too."
Me too, ladies, me too. Because had I been there, I wouldn't feel like such an idiot right now.
I really love those ladies. They crack me up!
posted by Peter Rice at 3:46 AM
3 Comments:
Yes, I forget exactly who was leading that prayer, now 12 years hence.... I do remember feeling embarrased, mortified, and dumbfounded... That said, embarassment can, given the right circumstances, and upon reflection, be a great soucrce of mirth...
Jodad
Well, I vividly remember said prayer breakfast... and the time at Tim's... and various other times that you broke into uncontrollable laughter.
I'm laughing about those times right now :)
Something about that kind of mirthful, hilarious, uncontrollable, unreasonable, even insane laughter is contagious.
You particularly have the ability to make me laugh, bro. I miss that.
-Andrew
Oh man - I can picture you laughing right now. What a great memory that will be someday, as it already seems to have so much meaning. Just imagine in another dozen years or so pondering that moment as another laughing fit besieges you! Cherish these wonderful, life-long memories you are making, Peter.
Joy
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