Those Who Battle with Teenagers

(Hey, kids! Today's literary technique is in media res!)

Head lying against my tiny little desk, shoulders slumped, I struggled mightily to cast the afternoon's events in a positive light before any of the other teachers made it back to the English Office; Remember, you're a stranger here, you're a cultural ambassador, the burden of understanding and adapting is on you, I told myself, choking back mouthfuls of ire.

The previous class period had been class G, what Watanabe-sensei calls with characteristically disarming candor, "the worst class" (I'd be inclined to believe him were it not for the fact that every one of my teachers claims that one of theirs is "the worst class"). We played Godzilla Jeopardy, a little game I'd picked up from Jenn that had gone over pretty well in F class. 6 students showed up to G class. Fifteen minutes into class, and we'd finished dividing them into teams and having them pick team names...one student was asleep, three were talking. A little under par, even for G class, the worst class in the worst school in the prefecture (which, if my pop culture trivia is accurate, would make me Mr. Kotter, right?).

Harry's mental picture of his students.

After a good ten minutes of watching two students (both of whom were on the same team, as it happens) dominate the game, I gritted my teeth in a psycho-killer grin, sidled up to one of the talking trio, and sweetly asked her to move the other side of the room. After Watanabe-sensei translated, she complied and proceeded to sulk as one of her companions began to pay attention and the other took out his cell phone. Well, I thought, that's progress. I tried to continue the game with the 50% participation boost, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the kid with the cell phone. Poor damned fool that I am, I thought I'd make another try at increasing participation (of course, I belong to the horror movie character archetype known as the Doomed Optimist, the kind of guy whose last words are "Oh, c'mon, guys, there's no such thing as vampi-hurrrgh."). Another trick I'd learned from Jenn, one recommended by the JET Program: if a student is playing with their cell phone, just take it away from them! Sounded simple enough, though I'd never had the spine to actually try it.

He didn't even bother to look up as I stopped the game, approached him, and yanked the phone, a sinister purple doodad with a tiger-tail charm, out of his hand. He looked up in astonishment and said something about a "geemu" as I smugly held it away from him and explained that he would get it back at the end of class. I returned to Jeopardy only to see a moment later that he had produced a second cell phone from somewhere. I made a move to approach, and he put it away with a scowl. That's right, kid. Who's the boss around here? Uh-huh.

Of course, it was out again within 30 seconds. I tried, I really tried to ignore it, but I was fixated and still puffed-up from my earlier success (really, my greatest achievement in terms of physical prowess). I made a move for it again, and this time he hissed something in Japanese at me when I took it. I marched back to the front of the room, phone in hand, patting myself on the back, only dimly aware of somebody moving behind me. I set it on the desk and turned back to the class, now noticing that the student was lumbering menacingly towards me. In a flash, Watanabe-sensei was somehow holding both of the cell phones and...what? He's handing them back to the student? How the hell can I work under these conditions? I can't believe he totally undermined me like that!


It was all I could do to make it through the rest of class (Team Cucumber beat Team Young Master by 800 points, if you were wondering). I just couldn't stop fuming at Watanabe-sensei...how could he so blatantly contradict my disciplinary actions in front of the students? Why wasn't he taking charge of class himself?

The door slid open. I sat up straight, pulling my head off the desk fast enough to give me a pain in the neck (one unrelated to students, for a change). We nodded at one another, then I just let the tension smolder as we both stared off into space for awhile. Finally, I worked up the courage to ask, as sensitively as possible, if I did anything wrong by taking that student's phones.

He laughed. Of course, he always laughs when he speaks English, even when having an extremely uninteresting conversation; it's a very endearing character trait for the first 20 minutes or so, really. He stalled for a few moments, hemming and hawing (pronounced "eeto" and "anno" in Japanese). Then he explained, cryptically: "They have no feelings for themselves, but their phones..."

I tried my best to see this as a learning opportunity. Picture him as Yoda, it'll help; their English skills are roughly equivalent. "So, what should I do next time? You know, the next time a student won't put down their cell phone."

He laughed again, and stalled a little more. The students call him "Old Man-sensei," which is funny, because he doesn't look much older than 35 to me (which probably means that he's actually about 50). Somewhat nervously, he said, "When you take their phones away, they become...(unintelligable), and..." Brilliant? They become brilliant when you take away their phones? Then, still puffing out weak, nervous little laughs, he mimed a fist coming in my direction. Oh, belligerent. Oh. Oh.

The incident was cast in a new light: I wasn't being undermined by an unprofessional, weak-willed teacher, I was saved from physical harm by the superhuman reflexes and diplomacy of a saintly mentor.

Harry's updated mental picture of his students.

I'm still not sure what to take away from this. A month ago, I told ECC that I'd be really very happy to stay here at Sakishima, really, I absolutely love it here, no problems at all, though if they might possibly have an opening somewhere else where my skills could be put to a little better use, I might kinda sort of possibly be cool with that, if it's not too much trouble. Unemployment has that effect on me. I guess if I've learned anything, it's to completely forget what I've been trying to teach myself since my first day here: don't be afraid of these students.