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Monday, March 9, 2015

Tales of the Shokuinshitsu (Volume 2)

Tales of the Shokuinshitsu

Vol 2: Edged Out

     In this edition we take a look at what will be one of the more infamous examples of y's relentless enmity towards me. Last Friday, after class, I was signing yearbooks. Many of the 3rd year girls were asking the teachers in the staff room to write something and I was happy to do so upon request. Very quickly though, a brief aside. These are the kids that I have spent the most time around and become the most familiar with. If you asked me right now, I could name every single one by their given name, and about 80% of their surnames as well. We've been through a lot together. A handful of these students are ones that I've worked with very closely when it came to studying for Eiken, speech contests, and other English related things. Some of them just bonded with me apropos of nothing owing to their own friendly disposition and kindheartedness.
     My point is that I had a lot to say for some of these kids. So, I said it. One of my girls in particular earned a very lengthy message because of how much I admired her curiosity about everything, never failing to ask questions, and unbelievably hard-working nature. She was the only student who participated in three back to back speech contests during my time here. We talked a lot outside of class; she made note of the things I put on my English board, and I even gave her some music occasionally.
     Whilst I was working on this girl's yearbook y came over and started commenting on how long of a message I was writing. This caused me to look at her message on the previous page. There were three sentences, the last of which was in English with the amazing line, "You were a good girl," followed by her signature at the end. Her annoying commentary filled the silence and gap in my writing.
     "Oh wow, Joshua! So much!" and, "You are writing many things!" or, "Sugoi, Joshua-sensei!" along with basically every variation therein you could think of. She didn't stop talking the whole time she was looking over my shoulder at what I was writing. So common is this practice that I wasn't annoyed by the lean as it's just a thing now. Furthermore, I wasn't embarrassed about anything or any of the praise I was writing for my student.
     At a certain point (still commenting on how much I was writing) she leaves to go grab a pen and comes back. Then, with the swiftness and furtive qualities afforded only to the most cunning of woodland creatures, she placed her right arm down on the yearbook and started adding to her message. The message she finished and signed. I'm left handed, so it was never going to work. She bumped my arm out of the way, in order to write more, without saying anything to me. I literally had to stop writing my heartfelt message so she could finish the measly attempt at her own. Classic y.


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