My First Couple Weeks (part 1) "The Yin"

My first week at my new apartment and school was pretty quick, but full of action. It started off a little rocky. Here's the outline . . .

- Met My Boss and Coworkers

- Almost Died

- Went to a Party

- Had a Revelation

- Strange Conversations

- Felt Like a Weirdo

-Fell Off My Bike

- Found God . . . Again

- Got Internet

Met My Boss and Coworkers

She was a short, strange and jittery woman who greeted me as soon as I stepped foot off the train. She informed me that some of the parents were throwing a party for the guy I'm replacing which is not something that happens very often, but apparently the guy was such an awesome teacher and spoke such wonderful, fluent Japanese that the parents couldn't help but to honor him with a going away party. Oh . . . and I could come too if I wanted. "Do you speak Japanese?" she asked me. "Um, no," I replied. "Oh" said she. (Awkward Silence).

So we picked up the guy I'm replacing. He was a skinny, greasy-haired guy with glasses and a big nose. (Not being mean, just keeping it real) We also picked up the girl I would be working with, a short, dark-haired, freckle faced girl with really dark, drawn on eyebrows. They were both friendly and polite.

Almost Died

The manager was so pressed to get to this party that she rushed through my mandatory apartment checklist, missing several things that I'm sure should have been checked thoroughly. She sped down the road in her car and almost ran onto some train tracks attempting to beat an oncoming train. My life flashed before my eyes and at that very moment I went from trying to make a good impression, to being pissed off. This woman was putting everyone's life in danger for some hors d'oeuvres and coca cola. I guess it wasn't too crazy, considering the driving is absolutely horrible in Japan. I've never in my life seen such terrible driving. You know that stereotype about Asian people and driving? Yeah . . . well, I don't know if it's true, but I can definitely say that the Japanese people are holding up their end of the sucking bargain.

Went to a Party

So we went to the party and boy was it awkward. I didn't understand too much of what was said but I did understand that I was being watched (mainly by my female American coworker and the manager). There were children running around and climbing all over the guy I'm replacing and the parents looked on lovingly, laughing, smiling and speaking Japanese. I really wanted to go home to unpack my stuff and get acquainted with my apartment. I also wanted to throw up and kill myself.

Had A Revelation

It's too late to go home.

Strange Conversations

This is one of the recurring conversations I had after first meeting the outgoing teacher...

Guy - Where are you from?

Me - Philadelphia.

Guy - I thought you said you were from New Jersey.

Me - I'm originally from New Jersey, but I live in Philadelphia

Guy - Oh!

Now I'm only referencing this conversation, because it took place several times and to be honest I found it a little strange and slightly annoying. Why? I emailed dude and told him I was from Philadelphia several weeks before I arrived in Japan. I never mentioned anything about New Jersey. How he found out that information . . . I don't know. It creeped me out a little and also made me feel like I had to defend my right to say that I was from Philadelphia which was indeed where I was coming from when I was offered and accepted the job. What would be the point of mentioning New Jersey, when I was no longer a resident and hadn't been for years? Also (and I'm getting ahead of myself here) when I shadowed him throughout the week and the students would ask me where I came from, he would always cut in and say, "She's originally from New Jersey!"

Feeling Like a Weirdo

So that week I shadowed classes and had to conduct my own as well, under the supervision of the outgoing teacher. The problem was that after each class, he would give the students gifts. And I don't mean stickers or colorful book markers . . . I'm talking about PSP games and huge anime pictures that he personally painted himself. These children's face would light up and they would thank him profusely in Japanese. He would smile with pride as they took endless pictures (while throwing up the peace sign - because they still do that here in Japan), professed how much they would miss him and to dig it in deeper, he would end every class with "have fun with Arnetta Sensei!"

"Gee, thanks," I'm thinking to myself. And I'm sure the kids were probably thinking the same thing.

Then when it was my turn to teach, he sat in the back of the classroom, watching me and scratching his balls. (Yes, scratching his BALLS!!!) It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life and became more and more prevalent and constant with each passing day. So, I'm fumbling through my lesson, the kids aren't responding and it took reinforcement from the guy to get them to do anything. Most times, he would just repeat the same thing I'd just said and the kids would snap to attention and do his bidding. It was a nightmare. I couldn't wait for this guy to be gone. Somehow, I just knew that I could get these children's respect if only he was out of the classroom.

Also, I needed to vent . . . to normal people. English speaking people who were experiencing the same thing as me. The girl at my school was okay but I wasn't too fond of the spirit in which she'd say and do some things. It was hard for me not to get the impression that she was attempting to one-up me.

For example, here's a conversation we had when I first attempted to confide in her.

Me: So how do you like living in Japan so far?

Her: Oh this? I've traveled all my life, this is nothing to me.

Here's another conversation we had while on our way to the cultural center to take our Japanese language lessons...

Her: You'll probably have the same teacher as Holly, because you two are at about the same level of Japanese . . . which is like level zero.

Maybe she was right, but she still sounded like a douche-bag saying it (and she must have said this about a hundred different times, despite the fact that I never asked - nor cared - what teacher I would get assigned to at the cultural center.)

So I say all of this to say, I was on my own.

(Yeah, I know . . . this first part was pretty miserable. But stay tuned for part 2, it gets better. Or does it? Dunh, dunh, duuuuuhnnnn!!!)