Apples and Oranges

During the lunch break, one of my students was running around calling other kids “bad apples”. I found it hilarious, but the other students were quite confused. While they understood the literal meaning of “bad apple”, they didn’t get it in reference to a person.

A brief excerpt:

Students: Sensei, what does he mean? Apple? I’m a human, not an apple…

Me: Well, sometimes “bad apple” is an expression used for a “bad person”.

Students: Ehhh? But…why? Apples are apples, and people are…people???

As if helping them try to figure our the linguistic conundrum of figurative speech was not entertaining enough for me…

I was giving examples, and may or may not have used the sentence: “I think *insert name of current “leader” of a particular country that shall remain unnamed* is a bad apple”.

Just then, the Social Studies teacher was walking by. He stopped in his tracks, leaned towards us and said (with a shit-eating grin on his face all the while):

“Oh, he’s no apple. He’s an orange.”

The kids were a bit delayed in getting the joke, but they got there eventually. Minds were blown. Lessons were learned. I laughed all the way back to the teachers room.


Graduation Day

The 3rd year students graduated on Monday. The ceremony was three hours of continuous sitting, standing, and bowing. There were long speeches by some supposedly important people whom I have never seen before in my life, and one very emotional speech by one of my favorite graduates. I shed quite a few tears, especially when the 1st/2nd years and the 3rd years sang a goodbye song to each other. And then again as all of us teachers lined up on either side of the aisle to applaud as the students made their final exit from the gym.

Afterwards, the graduates have one last homeroom session, during which I retreated to the warmth of the teacher’s room to enjoy a cup of celebratory sakura tea. The cherry blossoms are preserved in salt, so it tastes less like what you imagine of “tea” and more like…well, salty flowers. But it wasn’t bad at all. The flavor is actually quite comforting, especially when you’re all broken up about your favorite students leaving you for the great wide world of high school.

As if I wasn’t already emotional enough, we all filed outside to applaud the graduates as they made their way from the school into the parking lot, where about an hour of mingling and photo-taking ensued. I lost count of how many selfies with various bunny, bear, and cat filters were taken that day.

Finally, I hugged the crap out of my self-dubbed “Crazy People”, wished them luck, and said my last goodbyes. Exhausted and emotional, I returned once again to the teacher’s room to eat my special graduation day bento, which wasn’t that great (it was cold), but it was nice to have something different from the daily kyushoku.

Mercifully, I was released after lunch and promptly returned home, where I collapsed on my sofa with a glass of wine and flipped through the yearbook before reuniting with my old friend, Netflix.

This was the second class that I’ve sent off from this school, but the first with whom I had developed a close bond. They were so much fun to teach, and always tried their best. It was quite fulfilling to see them learn and grow, and become comfortable enough to speak with me both in class and casually around school regardless of their English level. I will miss their smiles and shouts of “Happy Friday” echoing through these halls. I’ll always look back on the year(s) I’ve spent with them fondly, and hope that they can do the same.

Things I see from the Window…

My desk faces a big sliding door/row of windows that look out over the schoolyard. Sometimes I see interesting things.

The other day, after school had ended and club activities were about the begin, I witnessed a student get stuck in the utility shed across the soccer field. They were taking out the equipment for their sports practice, and somehow, the sliding door had gotten stuck.

The rest of the students ran off, so he was left in there, fiddling with the door. It took me a few minutes to realize he was really stuck. I saw him banging on the door (the top half was a window).

No other teachers were in the room, so I just kinda looked around and waited to see if anyone else noticed.

Just as I was considering that I should probably get up off my butt and go help him, another student ran over to open the door, and all was well.

Almost two months later, I still chuckle when I think about it.