Futility

Tonight I'm going to work a half shift at the conversation school. Of the four students on my schedule, at least two of them have pretty much given up on studying grammar, vocabulary or idiom, and have opted instead to "enjoy conversation and have fun speaking freely."

I wouldn't mind that so much if I wasn't suffering from hay fever. Thanks to reconstruction-era construction plans, there were enourmous numbers of Japanese Cedar trees planted that were meant to be harvested for building and construction. Of course, about four years after WWII, most construction shifted to reinforced concrete and steel framing, which meant most of those trees were never harvested. So now Japan is enjoying the earliest, strongest, most widely spread pollenation season ever. And I was feeling it hard. Which was why I took a non-drowsy allergy medicine.

Please bear in mind, "non-drowsy" only means it won't make you sleepy. There's nothing in there about not feeling fuzzy, out-of-focus, or mildly stoned. Not exactly the best frame of mind from which to feign interest in someone.

Tonight ought to be interesting. To impartial observers, anyway.

Fuck you. Fuck you all very much.

My contract to teach English at (and engage in international exchange events with) the elementary schools of Chiyoda ward, Tokyo is almost over. Two more weeks and I'll be done. And now, after what seemed to be an endless supply of futile repetition, frustrating setbacks, injuries and insults, I'm finding out what the response has been. It looks as though I was appreciated by the teachers, who rarely could be bothered to raise their heads when they were in the class with me, and the parents, whose snot-nosed children apparently managed to retain a line or two of English after spending the class screaming like sugar-addled Tourrette's sufferers or staring sullenly into the blank expanse of obedience and consumerism that would make up the rest of their lives.

What kind of bullshit is this? If you really think that what I was doing was worthwhile, then get off your flat, lazy ass and shut your students up when they spend the class teasing anyone who can muster the confidence to try and speak. And when your children come home and want to continue playing games where they slap anyone and anything in their field of vision to see what will pay them any attention, correct those mucus-smeared little apes. After a year of putting up with all kinds of crap, hearing "we really appreciate what you've been doing" seems like the most obnoxious, bald-faced insult I could imagine. If they really appreciated it, why didn't they make any effort to help me?

One thing I've learned fairly thoroughly about Japan is that the more polite, respectful and honorific the language gets, the less it has to do with the actual feelings of the speaker. "We're most ashamed for being unable to explain this undesired situation" is most often used by your supervisor who isn't even going to explain why you're about to be screwed, refused or abused in the name of the company. "It is truly awful that your situation has become so difficult" means "since no easy solution is at hand, I'm going to assume you'll be too polite to ask me to do more than say how bad your situation is." "You must have become exhausted after completing such a working day" is another way to say "Oh, you're leaving before me."

This year I've had up it to my neck. And now the good people of Chiyoda ward along with my dipshit managers are just all a-gush with compliments and gratitude and "hail-fellow-well-met" bonhomie. They can jam it all right up their collective ass.

Yawning chasm

So, tell me, how often do you get sick of doing the same things over and over?

No, that's not quite right. What determines how quickly you get sick of some things? For example, last month I went to Hokkaido and I ate ramen from the original outpost of my favorite ramen shop three times in two days. I can play Tekken 5 until my eyes dry out and lose the ability to focus, and I have re-read Wind-Up Bird Chronicle until the spine broke. But I became bored with the recommended, tested and proven profitable (for the owners, anyway) teaching method at this one crappy eikaiwa within six weeks. Living on the outskirts of Tokyo lost its luster in less than a month. Within five minutes it became obvious that my supervisor was a dolt of limited perception, unshakable ignorance and possessed of breath that could knock a buzzard off a shit-wagon. Knowing he would soon become tiresome took no great amount of thought.

But what worries me most is the prospect of a lifetime of employment that will leave me bored for the vast majority of it. I don't imagine you want to hear more about it than you already have, but it's all gotten old very quickly. With the exception of that one week I was paid to look after my neighbors pets in 7th grade. 'Cause, y'know, they gave me a key to the house and I'd never really seen a pet rabbit before, and it was the first time I'd had access to someone else's home in their absence. Which is a rush almost as valuable as the goods you take while you're there.*

*Actual value of rush is not likely to exceed a positive value of $10, or a negative value of 18 months per count of breaking and entering.