Dear readers, please note that very shortly, I shall be changing my name. Henceforth, please address all correspondences to 鈴木花子 (Hanako Suzuki).
You may be wondering how this change has come about. Let me fill you in. You see, every day I eat lunch in the medical school cafeteria, and I've had my eye on Suzuki-san, one of the guys who dishes out the rice. Suzuki-san is quite cute and scoops the rice into the bowl with such grace that I couldn't help but fall for him.
For the longest time, I'd been hoping that he would notice me, so I had been trying to look as tall and white as possible. But sadly, no matter how much I batted my eyes at him and tittered merrily with my hand over my mouth, he never seemed to notice. That is, until last week.
Last Monday, I accidentally dropped my handkerchief in front of him on my way to the tea machine. Gentleman that he is, he picked up my handkerchief and as he handed it to me, we looked into each other's eyes for the first time. Suzuki-san has gorgeous eyes, and let me tell you -- the thirty seconds I spent gazing into his eyes were like heaven. Unfortunately, just at that moment, one of the ladies behind the counter called him back to help a customer, so we had to part. But ever since that day, I've been able to tell that Suzuki-san likes me because he always puts an extra scoop of rice in my bowl.
During the past week, our relationship has really blossomed and yesterday, Suzuki-san asked me to marry him. We wanted to wait a few months to have the wedding, but in the end, I decided that I just couldn't wait a second longer to become Mrs. Suzuki. So, we giddily ran off to the nearest Shinto shrine and were married by the Shinto priest/jazz pianist, who also does a pretty impressive Elvis impersonation, I must say.
Ok, ok, just kidding. (Did I fool you?) Actually, the real reason I'll be changing my name is that it is absolutely IMPOSSIBLE to fill out forms here if your name is not Japanese. In order to get a bank account, pay my phone bill, and register for health insurance and stuff, I've had to fill out quite a few forms over the past two months. And each of these forms has been returned to me at least once with a request to write my name in roman letters/katakana/capital letters/lower-case letters/full-size characters/half-size characters/with my middle name/without my middle name... Their data entry systems must be ridiculously anal. I've never been so afraid to write my name on a form before. Anyway, to make it easier on myself, I've decided that I'm going to change my name to something more straightforward.
I wonder how many times I'll have to fill out the name change form before I find a format that they can input into their system....
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Friday, October 13, 2006
Old Men (Part II)
Last Friday, I played in my second softball game with the old men. (And by old men, I really mean middle-aged/elderly men, but for the sake of brevity, I'll refer to them as old men here.) This time around, my teammates were apparently very curious to see me catch, so they put me behind the plate right away.
Unfortunately, they forgot to teach me any of the signs, and also neglected to tell me that one of their pitchers has some crazy breaking pitches. As a result, I spent the first three innings sticking my glove out and guessing when the pitcher would throw his rise ball. Sadly, a couple times I was just as fooled as the batter and had some pretty lame passed balls. It was a bit embarrassing.
Finally, after the third inning, I got smart and asked the pitcher about the signs, and from then on, I was able to redeem myself a bit -- blocked a couple balls in the dirt and even managed to pick a guy off of third base. I also went 1 for 2 with an RBI on a long sacrifice fly. Sorry to bore you with my stats, dear readers, but they will become important later on in this post, so please do read on.
Incidentally, last Friday was the first time I've caught a whole game in about four years, and apparently I was a bit out of shape, because I spent the next three days after the game hobbling down the steps of my apartment like an old woman. I suppose that's what I get for making fun of my teammates and calling them old men.
**Actually, I have already given up on this plan since all men in Japan are chain smokers. And that's just gross.
Unfortunately, they forgot to teach me any of the signs, and also neglected to tell me that one of their pitchers has some crazy breaking pitches. As a result, I spent the first three innings sticking my glove out and guessing when the pitcher would throw his rise ball. Sadly, a couple times I was just as fooled as the batter and had some pretty lame passed balls. It was a bit embarrassing.
Finally, after the third inning, I got smart and asked the pitcher about the signs, and from then on, I was able to redeem myself a bit -- blocked a couple balls in the dirt and even managed to pick a guy off of third base. I also went 1 for 2 with an RBI on a long sacrifice fly. Sorry to bore you with my stats, dear readers, but they will become important later on in this post, so please do read on.
Incidentally, last Friday was the first time I've caught a whole game in about four years, and apparently I was a bit out of shape, because I spent the next three days after the game hobbling down the steps of my apartment like an old woman. I suppose that's what I get for making fun of my teammates and calling them old men.
---
Last Sunday was my town's fall festival, a special event where all of the neighbors get together and pray* for a good harvest. In this particular festival, the kami, the god of a nearby Shinto shrine, is supposed to leave the shrine and enter a mikoshi, a portable shrine which looks something like this:
Then the men carry the mikoshi around the town all day, stopping at various places so that the kami can bless the rice fields and new houses and community centers and things.
Anyway, one of my private lesson students was supposed to play taiko during the festivities on Sunday, so I thought that I would drop by for a few hours or so to watch her. As it turns out, Tyler and I went together and ended up staying from 1 - 10 PM.
The minute we arrived at the festival, we instantly became the main attraction. Everyone was staring at us, all the while trying their best to be subtle. It was hilarious. As I walked through the crowd to find my private lesson student, I heard someone behind me call my name, and turned around to find half of my softball team standing there. Apparently, I have chosen to hang out with the right group of old men. They were very excited that we had come to their festival, and proceeded to shower us with food and drink and to introduce us to everyone in the town. Among the people I met were:
-- the priest at the local Shinto shrine. He was wearing his formal robes and hat, and every time the mikoshi would stop, it was his job to perform some kind of ceremony in front of it involving a pile of rice, a bottle of sake, and a stick with a holy piece of paper attached to it. He was very nice and tried to explain various parts of the festival to me. Also, apparently when he is not carrying out his priestly duties, he plays jazz piano at a club in Matsuyama. I think that I have probably met the hippest Shinto priest in all of Japan.
-- the wife of our second baseman, who very kindly invited us into her house and fed us $100+ bowls of mushroom soup. It was good soup, but I am not sure that I would pay $100 for it...
-- about fifteen different people who are all named Watanabe. Ridiculously confusing.
-- the dirty old men of the town. Actually, no one introduced me to these guys -- they just randomly sat down on either side of me at one point and started to make some sort of lewd comments in Japanese. Gross. Luckily, a couple of my teammates came to rescue me, and after that, the dirty men left me alone.
-- groups of elementary school girls who would come timidly towards us and stare at us (in admiration??). I tried speaking to them in both Japanese and English, but apparently they were so enamored with my gaijin charms that they were unable to reply.
My softball pals were particularly interested in Tyler, since they had never met him before, and immediately recruited him to carry the mikoshi around the town with them. Now, for the most part I found the festival quite charming, but I must say that this mikoshi carrying business is probably among the stupidest things I have seen in Japan.
In Shinto, sake is sacred, so at festivals it is customary for the men to drink a glass or two each time they put the mikoshi down. Since most people drink a few glasses every hour, just about everyone is as least sort of drunk, and therefore the process of carrying the mikoshi boils down to something like this: a huge mass of drunken men hoist the ~1,500 lb. mikoshi above their heads, turn around in circles three times, and then stagger down the very narrow streets, on either side of which are deep irrigation ditches. As I was watching the mikoshi, I couldn't help but wonder who thought that this would be a good idea??? I'll admit that it was entertaining, but I was also half waiting for someone to be crushed to death. :(
Besides my softball teammates, many other people from our town were very eager to talk to the two foreigners, and since Tyler doesn't know too much Japanese, I became his translator for the day. Most of our conversations went something like this:
Japanese guy: (in Japanese to Tyler) What is your name?
Tyler: ...??
Me: He wants to know your name.
Tyler: Oh, I'm Tyler.
Japanese guy: huh?
Tyler: Tyler desu. Ty-ler.
Japanese guy: Aaa, Tairaa. Naisu tsu meeto you. (to me in Japanese) Does your husband like to drink sake?
Me: Uh, er, what?? My husband? Ooohhh, haha. Tyler is not my husband. We just work together at the medical school.
Japanese guy: (chuckling) Oh, sure. Well, by the end of the year, he'll be your husband... unless I fight him for your hand. (makes punching motions at Tyler)
Tyler: ...?? (chuckles and makes punching motions back)
Me: Er, maybe, yes.
It has now been almost a week since the festival, and it has become clear to me that gossip moves at an alarming rate in my little town. I have already seen several random people from the festival in the past few days, and at least three people have pointed at me and called me "パワーヒッター" (power hitter) or "大リーグ" (major leaguer). At first I was quite confused by this and wondered if I was hearing them right, but after talking to these people, apparently my sacrifice fly last Friday has since become a myth of epic proportions around town. (I've also become famous around here for my arm, I guess. Several people have told me that I throw like an American. When I press them to elaborate, they say that they are impressed with my speed. I'm still not quite sure what to think about this. Does this mean that all Japanese people throw like pansies?)
Anyway, I am sure that by now, everyone in my town also knows about me and my gaijin "husband." I am quite frustrated about this, since it will surely ruin my plans to become a trophy wife for a kind, young, wealthy, attractive Japanese man.**
*Religion in Japan is really complicated, but basically, people here are not super attached to any one doctrine -- most people seem to adhere to both Shinto and Buddhist customs whenever it suits them. So keep in mind that the people in my town think about gods and praying and things differently than many Americans do.
Then the men carry the mikoshi around the town all day, stopping at various places so that the kami can bless the rice fields and new houses and community centers and things.
Anyway, one of my private lesson students was supposed to play taiko during the festivities on Sunday, so I thought that I would drop by for a few hours or so to watch her. As it turns out, Tyler and I went together and ended up staying from 1 - 10 PM.
The minute we arrived at the festival, we instantly became the main attraction. Everyone was staring at us, all the while trying their best to be subtle. It was hilarious. As I walked through the crowd to find my private lesson student, I heard someone behind me call my name, and turned around to find half of my softball team standing there. Apparently, I have chosen to hang out with the right group of old men. They were very excited that we had come to their festival, and proceeded to shower us with food and drink and to introduce us to everyone in the town. Among the people I met were:
-- the priest at the local Shinto shrine. He was wearing his formal robes and hat, and every time the mikoshi would stop, it was his job to perform some kind of ceremony in front of it involving a pile of rice, a bottle of sake, and a stick with a holy piece of paper attached to it. He was very nice and tried to explain various parts of the festival to me. Also, apparently when he is not carrying out his priestly duties, he plays jazz piano at a club in Matsuyama. I think that I have probably met the hippest Shinto priest in all of Japan.
-- the wife of our second baseman, who very kindly invited us into her house and fed us $100+ bowls of mushroom soup. It was good soup, but I am not sure that I would pay $100 for it...
-- about fifteen different people who are all named Watanabe. Ridiculously confusing.
-- the dirty old men of the town. Actually, no one introduced me to these guys -- they just randomly sat down on either side of me at one point and started to make some sort of lewd comments in Japanese. Gross. Luckily, a couple of my teammates came to rescue me, and after that, the dirty men left me alone.
-- groups of elementary school girls who would come timidly towards us and stare at us (in admiration??). I tried speaking to them in both Japanese and English, but apparently they were so enamored with my gaijin charms that they were unable to reply.
My softball pals were particularly interested in Tyler, since they had never met him before, and immediately recruited him to carry the mikoshi around the town with them. Now, for the most part I found the festival quite charming, but I must say that this mikoshi carrying business is probably among the stupidest things I have seen in Japan.
In Shinto, sake is sacred, so at festivals it is customary for the men to drink a glass or two each time they put the mikoshi down. Since most people drink a few glasses every hour, just about everyone is as least sort of drunk, and therefore the process of carrying the mikoshi boils down to something like this: a huge mass of drunken men hoist the ~1,500 lb. mikoshi above their heads, turn around in circles three times, and then stagger down the very narrow streets, on either side of which are deep irrigation ditches. As I was watching the mikoshi, I couldn't help but wonder who thought that this would be a good idea??? I'll admit that it was entertaining, but I was also half waiting for someone to be crushed to death. :(
Besides my softball teammates, many other people from our town were very eager to talk to the two foreigners, and since Tyler doesn't know too much Japanese, I became his translator for the day. Most of our conversations went something like this:
Japanese guy: (in Japanese to Tyler) What is your name?
Tyler: ...??
Me: He wants to know your name.
Tyler: Oh, I'm Tyler.
Japanese guy: huh?
Tyler: Tyler desu. Ty-ler.
Japanese guy: Aaa, Tairaa. Naisu tsu meeto you. (to me in Japanese) Does your husband like to drink sake?
Me: Uh, er, what?? My husband? Ooohhh, haha. Tyler is not my husband. We just work together at the medical school.
Japanese guy: (chuckling) Oh, sure. Well, by the end of the year, he'll be your husband... unless I fight him for your hand. (makes punching motions at Tyler)
Tyler: ...?? (chuckles and makes punching motions back)
Me: Er, maybe, yes.
It has now been almost a week since the festival, and it has become clear to me that gossip moves at an alarming rate in my little town. I have already seen several random people from the festival in the past few days, and at least three people have pointed at me and called me "パワーヒッター" (power hitter) or "大リーグ" (major leaguer). At first I was quite confused by this and wondered if I was hearing them right, but after talking to these people, apparently my sacrifice fly last Friday has since become a myth of epic proportions around town. (I've also become famous around here for my arm, I guess. Several people have told me that I throw like an American. When I press them to elaborate, they say that they are impressed with my speed. I'm still not quite sure what to think about this. Does this mean that all Japanese people throw like pansies?)
Anyway, I am sure that by now, everyone in my town also knows about me and my gaijin "husband." I am quite frustrated about this, since it will surely ruin my plans to become a trophy wife for a kind, young, wealthy, attractive Japanese man.**
*Religion in Japan is really complicated, but basically, people here are not super attached to any one doctrine -- most people seem to adhere to both Shinto and Buddhist customs whenever it suits them. So keep in mind that the people in my town think about gods and praying and things differently than many Americans do.
**Actually, I have already given up on this plan since all men in Japan are chain smokers. And that's just gross.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Cups of Sugar, Kids, and the First Day of School
Two mornings ago, a random woman came to my door. As she introduced herself to me, I naively assumed that she was one of my neighbors dropping by to borrow a cup of sugar or something. However, now that I think about it, I should have realized that this could not possibly be the case, since a) packages of sugar here are so small and expensive that I could not possibly afford to give anyone a whole cup of sugar, and b) my neighbors are obviously scared to death of running into a foreigner on the stairs and being forced to speak English.
Anyway, thinking that this woman was my neighbor, I chatted with her in Japanese for a couple minutes. Then, after a bit, she asked me, "Do you read the Bible?" and I realized that I had made a dreadful mistake -- I had revealed to a Jehovah's Witness missionary* that I can speak Japanese.
I tried to tell the missionary that I already have a Bible, most of my family is Christian, and all that jazz, but she wouldn't take the hint. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring myself to shut the door in her face, so I endured several more minutes of her spiel, and finally, just when I was beginning to lose all hope of ever getting rid of her, she left.
I assumed that I had convinced her that I'm not a heathen, but unfortunately, she still seems to have her doubts. According to the note that I found in my mailbox tonight, it appears that she came by to visit me again this morning, but sadly, I was at work. She did, however, leave me with a bible verse written in English:
"For the living are conscious that they will die, but as for the dead, they are conscious of nothing at all, neither do they anymore have wages, because the remembrance of them has been forgotten." Ecclesiastes 9:5
Quite an uplifting little passage. Perhaps I'm missing something, but if I were going to convert someone to Christianity, this is not the bible verse I would pick....
At my private lesson with the W kids tonight, the oldest girl wanted to show me her impression of some actress in a Japanese TV commercial. After she finished, she asked me what I thought, and I told her that I thought she was very funny. Then, she smiled back at me innocently and said, "You b*tch!"
I'm pretty sure that she had no idea what she was saying, but it was still a bit shocking. I wonder what the previous teachers were saying in front of these kids....
*Don't get me wrong -- I am sure that Jehovah's Witnesses are perfectly wonderful people. I just find the whole door-to-door thing to be a little creepy. The next time I need someone to save my soul, I'll ask, ok?
Anyway, thinking that this woman was my neighbor, I chatted with her in Japanese for a couple minutes. Then, after a bit, she asked me, "Do you read the Bible?" and I realized that I had made a dreadful mistake -- I had revealed to a Jehovah's Witness missionary* that I can speak Japanese.
I tried to tell the missionary that I already have a Bible, most of my family is Christian, and all that jazz, but she wouldn't take the hint. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring myself to shut the door in her face, so I endured several more minutes of her spiel, and finally, just when I was beginning to lose all hope of ever getting rid of her, she left.
I assumed that I had convinced her that I'm not a heathen, but unfortunately, she still seems to have her doubts. According to the note that I found in my mailbox tonight, it appears that she came by to visit me again this morning, but sadly, I was at work. She did, however, leave me with a bible verse written in English:
"For the living are conscious that they will die, but as for the dead, they are conscious of nothing at all, neither do they anymore have wages, because the remembrance of them has been forgotten." Ecclesiastes 9:5
Quite an uplifting little passage. Perhaps I'm missing something, but if I were going to convert someone to Christianity, this is not the bible verse I would pick....
---
At my private lesson with the W kids tonight, the oldest girl wanted to show me her impression of some actress in a Japanese TV commercial. After she finished, she asked me what I thought, and I told her that I thought she was very funny. Then, she smiled back at me innocently and said, "You b*tch!"
I'm pretty sure that she had no idea what she was saying, but it was still a bit shocking. I wonder what the previous teachers were saying in front of these kids....
---
Since today was the first day of the semester at my college, I am now officially a Lecturer of Medical English at Ehime University. I can tell that it is going to be an interesting semester. I am in charge of two classes: the mandatory beginners' class, and the optional advanced class. The students in the advanced class are all very gung ho about learning English, so that class should be fun, but the beginning class looks to be a bit more challenging. Since all second year students have to take the beginners' class, some of them are much more enthusiastic than others. As you might expect, the students who sit in the front row are super motivated. They look up at me with bright eager eyes in a way that makes me feel glad to have chosen this noble profession. The only problem is that even though they look as if they are hanging on my every word, they never speak. Ever. Then there's the students in the middle rows, who seem a bit less enthused, but still seem to be paying attention. And finally, there's the back row kids, who look completely uninterested and sleepy, or perhaps too cool for English class.
After I was introduced to the class by the head of our department, I was on my own, speaking to this huge lecture hall full of people. Now, normally I'm fairly comfortable doing public speaking, especially in my native language, but this was a bit different. With the exception of a few people in the front row, no one moved a muscle the entire time I was speaking. I am sure that I could have told them they will be expected to read 500 pages of Dostoevsky every night and they wouldn't have flinched. Every thirty seconds, I would stop and ask, "Do you understand? Any questions??" and no one would say anything, so for awhile, I wondered if they were still alive. It was excellent. Fortunately, I did manage to make them laugh a couple times, so I think there is hope. And we played bingo. They really liked that. I think we shall play bingo every day from now on, because they will speak someday, I swear.
After I was introduced to the class by the head of our department, I was on my own, speaking to this huge lecture hall full of people. Now, normally I'm fairly comfortable doing public speaking, especially in my native language, but this was a bit different. With the exception of a few people in the front row, no one moved a muscle the entire time I was speaking. I am sure that I could have told them they will be expected to read 500 pages of Dostoevsky every night and they wouldn't have flinched. Every thirty seconds, I would stop and ask, "Do you understand? Any questions??" and no one would say anything, so for awhile, I wondered if they were still alive. It was excellent. Fortunately, I did manage to make them laugh a couple times, so I think there is hope. And we played bingo. They really liked that. I think we shall play bingo every day from now on, because they will speak someday, I swear.
*Don't get me wrong -- I am sure that Jehovah's Witnesses are perfectly wonderful people. I just find the whole door-to-door thing to be a little creepy. The next time I need someone to save my soul, I'll ask, ok?
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Party Animal
After my triumphant victory over the Health Center Class on Thursday, I went straight to a local middle school to meet up with my softball team for my first game. By the time I made it to the field, it was already the fourth inning so I had missed out on most of the game, but fortunately, the team seemed very happy to see me and made sure to put me in at third base during the very next inning. Nobody hit anything to me, so I never got to show off my mad defensive skills, but apparently the team was very impressed with my arm and quick feet. (Actually, I think their agility was much more impressive than mine -- the second baseman and shortstop were quite nimble for being in their sixties!) Also, it seems that the opposing team was very impressed with my whiteness, since I could hear people yelling very loudly, "You have a foreigner on your team??" as I stepped up to bat.
After the game, the team always goes to a nearby restaurant to hang out, so they took me along for my first welcome party in Japan. Fortunately, there are two other women on this team, so in addition to my 5+ new Japanese grandfathers, I made a couple of new girlfriends too.
Everyone was very curious about me so they asked me all sorts of questions about my family, how old I am, my job, if I have a boyfriend in Japan, if I have a boyfriend in America etc. (Oddly enough, people are very surprised when I tell them that I don't have (2) boyfriends. I have yet to figure out why. Do I look like the type of person who would have multiple boyfriends?)
They also appeared to delight in watching me try every single type of food and drink served at the restaurant. When I first sat down, someone ordered me a beer, which I politely sipped. By the time I had finished about half of my glass, everyone around me was on their third or fourth glass. They thought this was quite odd, so they proceeded to order five other different drinks and had me drink all of them at the same time so I could pick my favorite.
In the meantime, they piled my plate with noodles, chicken, clams, and some kind of squishy gelatinous thing and watched me eat. I felt a bit like I was the subject of some kind of nature show on the Discovery channel. You know, the kind where some guy with a British accent says, "Foreigners, feared predators of the African savannah, often lurk near the waterhole waiting for a stray wildebeest to approach. If we wait here now, we may just catch one feeding on her hapless prey."
Anyway, I guess I found the team just as amusing as they found me, so it was an entertaining evening. Next week, there are two games, which means that we may have the pleasure of watching each other eat on two consecutive nights.
After the game, the team always goes to a nearby restaurant to hang out, so they took me along for my first welcome party in Japan. Fortunately, there are two other women on this team, so in addition to my 5+ new Japanese grandfathers, I made a couple of new girlfriends too.
Everyone was very curious about me so they asked me all sorts of questions about my family, how old I am, my job, if I have a boyfriend in Japan, if I have a boyfriend in America etc. (Oddly enough, people are very surprised when I tell them that I don't have (2) boyfriends. I have yet to figure out why. Do I look like the type of person who would have multiple boyfriends?)
They also appeared to delight in watching me try every single type of food and drink served at the restaurant. When I first sat down, someone ordered me a beer, which I politely sipped. By the time I had finished about half of my glass, everyone around me was on their third or fourth glass. They thought this was quite odd, so they proceeded to order five other different drinks and had me drink all of them at the same time so I could pick my favorite.
In the meantime, they piled my plate with noodles, chicken, clams, and some kind of squishy gelatinous thing and watched me eat. I felt a bit like I was the subject of some kind of nature show on the Discovery channel. You know, the kind where some guy with a British accent says, "Foreigners, feared predators of the African savannah, often lurk near the waterhole waiting for a stray wildebeest to approach. If we wait here now, we may just catch one feeding on her hapless prey."
Anyway, I guess I found the team just as amusing as they found me, so it was an entertaining evening. Next week, there are two games, which means that we may have the pleasure of watching each other eat on two consecutive nights.
---
On Friday night, the anesthesiology department had a party for a doctor who is leaving to start his own practice, and for some reason, Tyler and I were invited to attend. The party was in a Korean barbecue restaurant and the food was excellent, but the atmosphere was a little odd. All of the doctors sat at one table, while we were relegated to the foreigner/secretary/gossipers' table. Unfortunately, I could only understand about half of the gossip because the secretaries were speaking in a pretty strong version of their local dialect, so I don't have anything too interesting to report here. Meanwhile, the doctors at the other table were making speeches, presumably about how much they will miss each other now that Dr. What's-his-face is leaving. I was sitting so far away that I couldn't really hear them either so I just sat and smiled and ate more beef.
After dinner, we persuaded our boss and the other secretaries to go to karaoke, and I must say that Friday night was probably the weirdest karaoke box trip that I have ever experienced, mostly because our boss and the other secretaries were a bit tipsy. I could tell this for two reasons:
1. One of the other secretaries heard me sing and then begged me to do Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On." Anyone who requests that I sing the Titanic theme must not be thinking clearly, as I'm sure it would only end badly. Very badly. Like cracked-and-bleeding-vocal-chords badly.
2. Our boss started to tell Tyler and I about how she loves construction workers with big muscles so much that she can barely speak when she sees one. This was a bit shocking, since our boss is always the model of professionalism and feminine modesty at work. Anyway, since the medical school is being renovated now, there are lots of construction workers around, so Tyler and I are planning to bring some of them into the office and help her profess her undying love to them. I wonder if she will remember that she told us this next Monday...
After dinner, we persuaded our boss and the other secretaries to go to karaoke, and I must say that Friday night was probably the weirdest karaoke box trip that I have ever experienced, mostly because our boss and the other secretaries were a bit tipsy. I could tell this for two reasons:
1. One of the other secretaries heard me sing and then begged me to do Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On." Anyone who requests that I sing the Titanic theme must not be thinking clearly, as I'm sure it would only end badly. Very badly. Like cracked-and-bleeding-vocal-chords badly.
2. Our boss started to tell Tyler and I about how she loves construction workers with big muscles so much that she can barely speak when she sees one. This was a bit shocking, since our boss is always the model of professionalism and feminine modesty at work. Anyway, since the medical school is being renovated now, there are lots of construction workers around, so Tyler and I are planning to bring some of them into the office and help her profess her undying love to them. I wonder if she will remember that she told us this next Monday...
Pretty Bugs and Bank Robberies
Thursday was my fourth private lesson with Mrs. M and the Health Center group. You may recall that during the first lesson, Mrs. M frowned at me evily and refused to speak English. Well, since her act of defiance, the class has been absolute chaos. There are six people in the class, two of whom speak almost no English, so once Mrs. M gets them started, they chatter on in Japanese forever and go off on some pretty weird tangents. I try to get them back on track, but unfortunately they don't seem too interested in listening to me. The kids I teach are better behaved, I think. :(
Anyway, last week, the Health Center class wanted to know the difference between a pedicure and a manicure, so I explained that ped(i)- is a prefix which means foot. I then proceeded to give fascinating examples of this phenomenon, including the words pedestrian, biped, millipede, and centipede. At this point, Dr. S started talking about centipedes and the group broke out into a huge discussion which went something like this (except in Japanese.)
Dr. S: So centipedes are the poisonous ones, right?
Ryu: No, no, no. Millipedes are definitely poisonous.
Dr. S: But wait, centipedes are the ones with a thousand legs, right?
Mrs. M: Yes, yes, of course. Centipedes have a thousand legs.
Ryu: Wait, are you sure abou---
Dr. S: Hey, guess what? My dictionary says that mukade are a type of centipede.
Dr. O: Mukade?! How fascinating!!
Dr. S: Yes, you know, when I was in the mountains last weekend, I saw a bunch of them. And they can be red and yellow and green and....
Dr. O: Ah, mukade...I used to catch those when I was a boy and....
Ryu: Hey guys, I think that centipedes have a hundre --
Dr. S: ...beautiful creatures, mukade. Did I tell you that they can be red and yellow and....
Me: Ahem, uh, guys?? Guys? (waving my hands weakly as they ignore me) So as I was saying, ped- means foot and....
At the end of this particular lesson, I was beginning to wonder why they even pay me, since I spent the majority of the lesson listening to them speak Japanese. So this week, I decided to make some changes.
I figured that to keep all six of them on the same page, I would need a lesson plan with a more rigid structure -- something where they would be forced to zip it and listen to each other. So I made a little game for them. I told them that there had been a bank robbery and that they were suspects. Then I gave each of them a script and interrogated them about their whereabouts on the night of the crime. Although I wrote their scripts in very simple English, I wasn't sure if they would understand well enough to actually solve the mystery, so I was a little nervous that I would get a bunch of blank stares and end up having to explain the whole thing in Japanese.
Fortunately, they all seemed to get a big kick of the whole mystery scenario, and actually sat quietly and listened to each other. Then after the interrogations, I asked them questions in English about each person's alibi. I had intended the criminal to be pretty obvious, but they talked about the suspects for quite a long time and even came up with a bunch of crazy conspiracy theories. (Of course Dr. S and Dr. O were both seen in the Denny's at 7 PM, but what if the waiters at Denny's were in on the crime too??)
All in all, they appeared to enjoy themselves and actually spoke English for the most of the lesson, so I guess my little experiment worked. Sweet. :D
The score after four lessons: Health Center Class 3, Me 1, with 48 lessons remaining. Geez, if I can think up enough scenarios to last until the end of the year, I can make my own Hardy Boys series or something.
Anyway, last week, the Health Center class wanted to know the difference between a pedicure and a manicure, so I explained that ped(i)- is a prefix which means foot. I then proceeded to give fascinating examples of this phenomenon, including the words pedestrian, biped, millipede, and centipede. At this point, Dr. S started talking about centipedes and the group broke out into a huge discussion which went something like this (except in Japanese.)
Dr. S: So centipedes are the poisonous ones, right?
Ryu: No, no, no. Millipedes are definitely poisonous.
Dr. S: But wait, centipedes are the ones with a thousand legs, right?
Mrs. M: Yes, yes, of course. Centipedes have a thousand legs.
Ryu: Wait, are you sure abou---
Dr. S: Hey, guess what? My dictionary says that mukade are a type of centipede.
Dr. O: Mukade?! How fascinating!!
Dr. S: Yes, you know, when I was in the mountains last weekend, I saw a bunch of them. And they can be red and yellow and green and....
Dr. O: Ah, mukade...I used to catch those when I was a boy and....
Ryu: Hey guys, I think that centipedes have a hundre --
Dr. S: ...beautiful creatures, mukade. Did I tell you that they can be red and yellow and....
Me: Ahem, uh, guys?? Guys? (waving my hands weakly as they ignore me) So as I was saying, ped- means foot and....
At the end of this particular lesson, I was beginning to wonder why they even pay me, since I spent the majority of the lesson listening to them speak Japanese. So this week, I decided to make some changes.
I figured that to keep all six of them on the same page, I would need a lesson plan with a more rigid structure -- something where they would be forced to zip it and listen to each other. So I made a little game for them. I told them that there had been a bank robbery and that they were suspects. Then I gave each of them a script and interrogated them about their whereabouts on the night of the crime. Although I wrote their scripts in very simple English, I wasn't sure if they would understand well enough to actually solve the mystery, so I was a little nervous that I would get a bunch of blank stares and end up having to explain the whole thing in Japanese.
Fortunately, they all seemed to get a big kick of the whole mystery scenario, and actually sat quietly and listened to each other. Then after the interrogations, I asked them questions in English about each person's alibi. I had intended the criminal to be pretty obvious, but they talked about the suspects for quite a long time and even came up with a bunch of crazy conspiracy theories. (Of course Dr. S and Dr. O were both seen in the Denny's at 7 PM, but what if the waiters at Denny's were in on the crime too??)
All in all, they appeared to enjoy themselves and actually spoke English for the most of the lesson, so I guess my little experiment worked. Sweet. :D
The score after four lessons: Health Center Class 3, Me 1, with 48 lessons remaining. Geez, if I can think up enough scenarios to last until the end of the year, I can make my own Hardy Boys series or something.
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