Fun Fun

Disclaimer: I realize that I failed to meet last week's mission of blogging every day. However, my 3/5 success rate falls only slightly short of the Meat Loaf Not Bad Statistical Threshold (.667), so I don't feel too bad about it.

This is Harry Althoff, award-winning* reporter for "Amazing Tales of the Gaijin Patrol," blogging to ou live from Harumidai Kindergarten. Well, live, minus any time difference and low-pressure zones, accounting for temporal distortions caused by any resident tachyon fields in the troposphere (god damn those tachyons). A few isolated scenes from my first three days of work:

1. Within two minutes of walking through the front gate, a small child punched me in the butt. A premonition of things to come?

2. I'm not sure why, but all of the children in the international classes have been given English names. Let me tell you, it's kind of a mindf*** to be in Japan, faced with Japanese children who are speaking Japanese and still hear the names "Brandon," "Jack," and "Sophia." Coincidentally, one of the kids has the nickname "Harry." Boy, did he get a kick out of meeting me. I spent the next hour being approached by one or more of his classmates who were each in turn hit by the amazing idea that they just had to should out loud, usually in Japanese: "Wait...your name is Harry...and *gasp* his name is Harry!" They would then rofl vigorously.

At lunch, I had a fascinating conversation with a group of 5-year-olds, conducted half in English and half in Navajo (OK, Japanese, fine):

Lil' Harry: My Japanese name is Haruki.
Harry: Oh, cool!
Student A: What's your Japanese name?
Harry: Me? I don't have a Japanese name.
Lil' Harry: Heeee? (in English, "Whaaaaa?")
Lil' Harry, Student A, and Student B begin frantically discussing what my new Japanese name should be.

This was probably the most earnest, interesting discussion I've had with anyone since coming to Japan. Hell, since I was in kindergarten.

3. Wherever I go here, people are happy to see me. Yeah, I get stares, I get people whispering about me and pointing, but that's no different than the reaction anywhere else in Japan. At Sakishima, there was only one person who was ever happy to see me (bless you, Momoe), but here? I've known these kids for three days, and already I get delightful squeals when I enter a room. At least five students have run, yelling, down a hallway to hug me. Or...y'know, punch me in the butt. Either way, more enthusiasm than I ever saw in high school. Though I wasn't thrilled when that one kid filled my pockets with sand.

4. I must have made a really good impression at my interview, because according to the interview files that were lying around (seems to happen a lot when I have nothing to do at work), I was more qualified than fellow applicant Wallace Shawn. Cue 5 minutes of Princess Bride jokes.

5. When a few older kids were playing around with nonsense rhymes of the word "candle," they found themselves laughing and chanting the word "kancho." Within half a second, the teacher, Marty, immediately started a new activity. "We don't like that word around here," he explained. When another teacher who missed it asked what they had said, he leaned in and whispered, fearful of invoking the dread power of the hated word.

That's mostly it so far. More observations and reportage to follow. Of course, not next week, as Jenn and I will be doing important research in


We'll be researching...I don't know, sand. In

*Least Interesting Award recipient of the Nobody's Heard of You Award. I have a statue and everything.