Month: November 2022 (page 1 of 1)

I had a mind to make an apology to all of the staff in the morning assembly. And trivial as it seemed for having being rude to Matsu, and indeed, that is no common sense in Japan, and if I did not do so, everyone would pity my ignorance. In the staff room, my posture was perfect upright. “I do apologize for not being proper attitude as a student and for the inconvenience this has caused all of you. Thank you very much for your understanding,”I bowed formally.

“By the way, you got a tan, didn’t you?” Matsu asked, never having had such a daily conversation with me. Does it feel safe for her to talk with me? I hold out my arms, looking at them. I hesitated but said it anyway: “To refresh myself, I went away on my motorcycle … ” She stared coldly at them, then turned away, sighing quietly and walking away.

In fact, I could not let myself go much―I read two self-help books before the chaos descends. Then I went to mountains and rivers―grasses and trees―and the tumulus and the dam. That were so nice I could somehow forget my troubles.

I reminded me of her words: “Do you take the easy way out, eh?” If you enjoy what you do, she means you have not so much work, but if I had said “I studied very hard,” would she have been okay? Definitely not. At least I should have said so. I had made her cringe, like she had just caught sight of something loathsome. Honestly, I hated it when her mouth was slack with emptiness.

A few days after I restarted my practice, My school teacher, Miya, was going to visit me. Not because I was a bad student, it was the rule for the teacher to do each student one time during their practice period. I had had nothing but a premonition that …

Early in the evening, I waited anxiously for Miya in the staff room. When I noticed her entering my department, I got to my feet from my seat. She was grinning and bobbing her head, and said things to a staff. A middle-aged woman in the light-colored pantsuit, taking care of herself, was standing in the doorway. I approached her, and instead of paying any attention to me, she looked around gingerly. Then, out of nowhere, Umeno stepped up to us; Miya bowed deeply and gave her some gift of a classy paper bag. I knew that her visit was primarily to build a good relationship with Umeno, who was the department manager.

We were sitting silently in the small room and waiting for Matsu. When she entered from the door, I straightened my shoulders with my head bowed. And Umeno started to speak about my progress and Miya nodded several times. I apologized again for having been very rude to Matsu, but there was still a kind of tension between us.

“Matsusan told me that you were out of control. You have been in trouble and were a kind of tyrant. I must support her,”Umeno said; Miya glanced at Matsu, nodding sympathetically. I thought it sucked that Miya ditched me there before I at least had a chance to assert myself. That was why I had an uneasy premonition. Inside the small room were Umeno, the manager who considered me troublesome, and Matsu, the case advisor who cooked up things about me, and Miya, my school teacher who tried to get along with them, all women without me.

What could I do in a woman’s world where that is the norm? Probably there is a proper way you are supposed to deal with them. We Japanese people have a conscience in the same way Westerner do. However, we have lived so long under the great pressure to conform, like we do not have an individual self.

“You need to think about whether you really want to study here, and I want to know what you think.” Umeno looked at me soberly and Miya did not say anything, grim and tense and righteous. I used to know how to feel―anger, chagrin and hatred. These were lessons best forgotten. The more I would say my candid opinion―which would sound like a freaky person is complaining or protesting.

“Please give me another chance to learn here, I’m going to make exertion,” I looked Umeno in the eyes. “I take a vow not to make Matsusan discomfort on me.” To show a sign of my remorse, I looked down and kept my eyes fixed at a point on the floor until she would forgive me. What else could I do?

I was a young man with a Japanese man’s understanding of things at that time I must get this qualification that brought me a stable life. Moreover, I thought that I could start my life over until I was in my twenties, and fearing that if I failed in my practice, I would be a part time worker forever, and my parents paid for school fee for an unworthy son.

Umeno asked Matsu: “You will forgive him, won’t you? He’s reflecting upon his things.” Matsu was fazed a little. “If Ksan is okay with me,” she pinched her lips together, while Miya looked at her with concern.“Of course. You have been keen on teaching me. I really appreciate you.”I said. And then she turned away, made some excuse and left the room.

Finally Umeno gave me an ultimatum. “Let’s reduce your assignments. You aren’t at that level yet.” I used to be filled with chagrin at having been so misled and I felt great pride in discharging my duty over my practice. But I had ceased to feel. “I’m so sorry to come here as an immature student,” I bowed. Miya looked anxious, studying us. Perhaps she conjectured that I did not really think so and her perspective was entirely different from that of Umeno―I am not stupid. In my school, she was a blight, cheerful person, but this time she was careful not to be intrusive.

“Don’t worry. I’ll support you as far as possible so that you’ll have to succeed in your practice,” Umeno said, calmly, Miya nodding and nodding with her hand on her knees, as if she had been carrying out her mission. I knew that Japanese kept nodding even when they did not agree.

To see her off, I walked with Miya toward the entrance of the building, following a few steps behind. She had been just sitting there, in a strange kind of limbo, which seemed to make her feel vaguely guilty. As far as I was concerned, she was usually chatty. I waited and waited for her words to come. Nothing. With passing by several people―the hum of conversation―the silence between us was profound. 

I was not used to see this jittery teacher in the light-colored pantsuit that was not suited her, and I looked out the glass windows at my DragStar, the only one I could trust. Its metallic silver tank shined in the sun’s shaft. I admired what an imposing figure he was. At one point she looked back and smiled at me, trying to convince herself that her visit was effective. And then, nothing, Blank. I prompted her. “How about Tokumitsu? My good fellow. We hadn’t been in touch for long.” He was so eccentric person I thought this kind of soul-sucking practice was not for him. “He dropped out,” she glanced behind her at me. I grew depressed or nervous, knowing I would never see him in my school.

When she pushed the entrance door, she recovered her sense of being a teacher.“Your practice will be going well, won’t you?” That was just empty words.“Yes. I’m sure I will,” I said, reassuringly. We feigned that the exchange was mutually satisfying. I thanked her and watched her walk off under sunset-pink skies.

I was a loser. At the night I got really cozy inside me. My phone rung, so I picked up, “Ah, K. This is Tanaka speaking,” he was my homeroom teacher. “Good afternoon, sir.” “Don’t go. From tomorrow,”he said. I felt exhilarating to hear that, as if I released from pressure or bullying. “You’ll have to rest. Okay?“ “I understand, sir.” The moment he hung up, I collapsed back on the bed.

When I awoke to a beam of intense sunlight peeking in through the curtain in the window, it was twelve and I felt oddly at peace and for a while stared at the ceiling. I was hungry. I wondered if she would have allowed me to have eaten two take-out bento(lunch box) at lunch and if she had viewed me as lazy and hedonistic. I could not afford to the time I ate breakfast or dinner, having been busy writing the reports. She worked tensely all the day, this meant she took her stress out on me for some reason. Sleeping spoiled you? Even eating? Sleep is to the brain eating is to the body. Silly Matsu. It was tempting to forget the whole stuff and I simply went back to sleep, wishing to be kind to myself and others.

The next day I wrote a polite letter of apology to Matsu, describing about me, how rude I was, how uncomfortable I made her, and how I would like the opportunity to learn from her. I did not know it was my true feeling, but the letter was at least for show. I thought that if I pretended hard enough it would actually come true, and I would be nobody. My tactic was just to say “I understand” or bob my head or smile. Umeno would expect cheerful obedience of me and I knew that she accepted everything you said.

Naturally the division reader of my school, Mori, knew I was in trouble. He was in his early forties―well-worn white coat, combed-back gray hair, and a grim expression. He looked foolish when he attempted to stand upon his dignity by walking arrogantly along the hallways―mostly we students were too scare to talk to him. It occurred to me that he reprimanded my fellow Kita. He was dozing off when Mori taught a class. He was edging forward and stopped in front of Kita.“Orenitaisuruboutokuka?” “You are blaspheming against me, eh?” he asked in a wrath voice, glaring down at him. The atmosphere in the room was frozen, we straightened in our chairs and he threatened him to get out. After all, Kita repeated a year, and he was the very one who set an example.

I was sitting across from Mori in the reception room in my school. “Who do you think you are?” He looked me in the eye, so I turned away. “Look into the eyes, when you talk with anybody.” I tried to look at his horrible eyes. My face would have twitched and started to crumple with my timidity. “That’s exactly what your problem is … So you didn’t communicate with Matsusan well … You’re just a brat. You look down on her, eh?”he imposed his one-sided opinion on me. “You’re absolutely right, sir. But … I … don’t … want to be like her. She is not the epitome of the professionalism.” Shit! I blew it; I should not have said that. I was confused. “I think I was really a brat. I must obey her,” I made me humble. “You need more than that to explain it. That’s why you are not good at communicating with people … Brat … you’re just a brat!” he surveyed me with a scowl. I knew that this bastard liked to show what a dignity his presence represented for me.

The next day, we were to meet in front of the building, where I studied as a student trainee. By exercising his power, he had helped the troubled ones get back into the practice. I did know that he tried to maneuvered himself into a much higher status. He intentionally used two different faces well, severeness for formal and kindness for informal, which touched the stupid students. His strategy appeared to win the whole school over to his side. The great majority of the students had been with nothing but admiration for Mori. I did not know why. It was like people aligned themselves with the tendency of those around, so it was complete nonsense to ask what is so great about him. When a new cafe was going to open in my school, we students voted on its name. I had felt very silly indeed ever since then. And foolish as it might seem, the signboard over the door of the cafe said “Mori’s cafe.”

“Nice weather today,” he grinned. “I wish we could go somewhere to hang out, don’t you think?” How very odd. But just his way I thought it would be. “Yes, sir,” I mumbled, not knowing what to say. I had been in a frenzy for him cursing me, and I was now supposed to apologize to Matsu. And then he asked me about the staff, so maybe I replied awkwardly. When I approached the entrance of the building, he said: “I believe in you. No problem.” “Thank you very much, sir,” I winced, thinking his behavior was gross.

I straightened and then I bowed deeply. “I’m truly sorry for offending you.” “I was surprised when I received a letter from Ksan,”said Matsu, preparing her work in the staff room. We sat around in front of her desk. “Anyway I was surprised. I thought you would never come back.” I had fallen silent. “I wonder if you really okay with me. I worry about me teaching you,”she said. “Everyone is scared of you, eh?” Mori leered at me. “You’ve been trying too hard. Decompress.” I shrank back―I thought she would want to assert that I neglected my own assignment. Instead, she sulked and turned away before the cutting words from her mouth. 

At one point, Mori, enjoying showing off his power, crossed his legs and arched his spine, which annoyed her―late twenty with the conceit. “I mean, you should take a break,”he said, looking at me and Matsu gaped, as if she pronounced “huh” like a sigh in disbelief. “Five days. Rest. Stop, Do nothing. Embrace your hobby, something you looked forward to. Feel refreshing. You could meet your friends or take a short trip. Or else go back to your parents … Don’t study,” he said. “Forget studying.” There was something authoritative and deliberate in his speech that made her dumb. Japanese like her does not give you time to rest. Like resting is a sin. “I’ll leave it up to you,”she said glumly, trying to finish this conversation. “The way forward. Everyone is expecting a lot from you,” he gave me a gleeful little grin while her cheeks was distorted concealing her discomfort.

“Let’s have ramen,” Mori ordered me. “Ah yes, sir. I’ll accompany you.” I rode my DrugStar and followed his BMW. I had been a man who challenged authority, the way it was likely to backfire on me, but I was now taken in by him, for fear my feelings toward Mori have begun to transform. Where was I? I was so tense I did not have any appetite. And then I remembered. Trying too hard. Decompress. When you are trying too hard is you are actually thinking that you are making it.

He was sitting across from me eating ramen. “That did’t sound like fun. She is critical, eh?” he asked. “Yes … ” I mumbled.