Month: December 2022 (page 1 of 1)

I had already decided not to say Good morning to passers-by when running in the morning, because I felt that I obliged him to―while acclimating to Japanese life. Japanese never greet strangers. If I was a part of his group, where we interact with our own interest, we would greet one another with much jollity.

After leaving that agency, I did not belong anywhere, not even to a small gathering, and was an outsider. As the outsider, I could keep to myself, be anonymous, be invisible. No different than I was a boy. Feeling free, I could go the other way.

I recalled the worst three years when I was a high school student. In Japan, there is something like a hierarchy system from elementary to high school―it is roughly comprised of three main ranks. In the highest rank is the extroverted like Jock and Queen bee that included bad boy and girl―it was no matter if you are intelligent or not. Mostly they are good-looking, appealing and vibrant, and everywhere he goes he blends. As an exception, if you are a promising athlete regardless of your character, you can definitely be here.

The students of the highest rank casually talk with the teachers, who tend to favor them. They dominate the class and manage the important events: sports days, school festivals, and school excursions. They are dating among them and feel somehow superior to any other students, who would bolster up the class; hitting the “like buttons” on Instagram or on TikTok―the number of your likes are proof that you are popular.

A large majority of the class are in the second rank―ordinary students preserving the harmony in the class. Unlike the assertive ones of the top rank who get carried away, they are not that prominent―no eccentric. They are plain students with Japanese-style common sense that saying anything that might disturb atmosphere in the class risks plummeting down, where they never ever want to go.

Some students are in blurring of the rank line, like middlemen between the top and the second rank; reading the atmosphere and sucking up to the popular ones. They simply have ambition to rise in the class.

I am sure that mediocre students who take a back seat can have a stable school life, because the ruling clique, now and then is sharply split by a row over trifles that are none of their business. The awkwardness those bastards display in each other’s presence, while you can devote yourself modestly to what you want to do in your school life: club activity, studying, or hanging out with your friends.

What is horrible is how unassuming they are. With hindsight, they adjust themselves to the high rank―like a relationship between superiors and subordinates. For example, the arrangements of roles such as a sports day―which attracts people’s attentions: the teachers, the families and the locals―can not begin without kind of show-offs. The most horrible thing of all is when they follow a leading figure who can use his strength to ostracize one.

In a state of anarchy are the low rank students. Each student has his unique characteristic and tend to go his own way. Basically, they are isolated, and a couple of groups, for example, are made up of otaku―obsessive fans or fanatics, video game or anime geeks, nerds. They are out of style―that was really wack―but impressively hard-core.

In retrospect, some geeks were wearing their thick glasses and deeply absorbing in a dating simulation game, Tokimeki Memorial( it was popular in the 90’s)―with pink fantasies for virtual girls not real ones who turn away. After a decade, maybe they got a school girl fetish for the idol groups like AKB48. And obsessive fans of Evangelion enjoyed their world, where they imitated its characters and laughing with each other. They would not have noticed that they made the others cringe.

The low rank students include nerdy studious boys who are mute. He will continue study hard for years to come, and the next thing you know the brain that you looked down on grow up to be a doctor or innovator. And a video games geek is a modern gamer who dreams of playing in Esports, a form of competition using video games, and of earning prize money.

I believe those who focus on one thing have the potential to be winners in life. Oddly, over the years, a beautiful girl in the high rank find herself developing her sense of her type from the cool guys to kind of dull ones or middled-aged men, both in a high standard of living. I always wonder what had happened to the innocent girls.

Have you ever tried to bully or harass? If not you, then who? I think somebody else are getting tortured at work, where his employer pays a salary. But if he is a student, he himself pays for school, where he feels pain. If you kick out him, what is left for him?

Since that time, I had suffered from keloids on my neck for twelve years. I had at times had a recurring nightmare of the look on her crooked face. If these were healed, would this painful memory obliterate from my mind?

Matsu had spoken between the lines and I actively had focused on scanning for meaning. Neither were not open-minded or optimistic. My answer never satisfied her. Even years later, I would never be able to devise the effective means to her own satisfaction; I had happened to hear about her: “It’s a little cruel, the way Matsu do to the students, who are men.”

*

On the last day of my practice, Matsu showed me the paper―“FINAL EVALUATION,” the title read. On a scale of “Excellent,” “Good,” “Passing,” and “Failing,” I scanned the categories: Behavior, Communication, Teamwork, Motivation, Documenting, Understanding, etc. My heart pounding, I shifted my gaze to the check boxes … All items were “Failing.” Maybe only one “Passing,” but it did not matter. There were obviously the occasion like rudeness in the early days, but it was very different now.

My real concern was for “Success” or “Failure.” The bottom of them … “Failure.” I panicked. I never heard that anyone failed in spite of making it to the end of their practice. Because of that I had been devoting my effort to passing it as a slave student, who could bow, apologize, and report every trivial thing I had done. The practice made absolutely no sense. Screw it, everything became meaningless. 

I started flashing back through all the time I had been at violations, discrimination or any other type of complaints against me. That was quite unfair. It occurred to me that after apologizing, she had been in a little bit better mood, but had once failed to expel me.

She did not explain why she rejected me; I felt my face going pale. After less than a minute, ignoring me with her determination, she approached Umeno, who sat at the desk within hearing distance where she would submit the paper that needs the boss’s approval. It dawned on me she was going to ruin me. Just the sight of her despicable face and her dead fish eyes, there being the staff enjoying talking with each other, drove me really mad.

I was about to scream and throw a huge tantrum. I could picture me in my mind, jumping out, hitting her face so hard that blood gushed from her gross mouth. If she is he, I could. I would knock him, hit him over and over again until his mouth stooped making any disgusting noise.

Resisting the instinct to ruin her, I was trying to relax and hold myself loosely and I saw Umeno look at the paper, tilting her head thoughtfully; I listened, absorbing as much as I could. Umeno seemed to point out that it needed modifying to all the items. Matsu’s eyes were cloudy and her mouth slack with emptiness. There would have be so much more she wanted to tell her but her face just twitched. 

Umeno handed it back to me.“Here you go, it’s up to your teacher to decide whether you success or not.” It was pretty abstract. Matsu was forced to correct several of them―from “Failing” to “Passing.” The comprehensive evaluation did not change. I could feel my fury at her rising once more.

The other students seemed to feel a sense of accomplishments, Whatever his level of them otherwise, I thought I was so much better than them.

Siting on a stool, I did not know how quickly time flew―the staff disappeared, except for the sound of Umeno and Matsu scuttling about. Then I would had wandered in the dimly lit staff room, feeling like I was forgetting something.

I had to be strong and patient, making me think that I was not a loser, who never gave up―I had achieved something challenging; preserving group harmony and saving face for those involved with me then keeping hopeful right to the end.

To show a sign of courtesy, I approached Matsu getting ready to leave. “Thank you very much over two months,” I bowed far deeper than usual. “Otsukaresamadeshita.” “You’re welcome,”she said flatly, as if to have nothing further to say, leaving the room where Umeno was working alone.

Over time I found myself developed an increasingly violent temper. I jumped to my feet, darting downstairs and looking for Matsu, who had as good as ruined me. At this time of night, the lights had been dimmed in the whole floors that was empty. I was standing at a point for a while. I did not know how long I remained there; at the same time it was significant period, I suspected I was likely to crumple my paper in front of her face … I laughed, as though I had gone mad, and with the back of my hand, I wiped my tears from my eyes.

The next day, Umeno handed me a card made of folded paper.

9:00AM―Following Matsusan

12:00PM―Lunch

13:00PM―Work experience

“This is to-do list. I hope you understand,”Umeno said calmly, in no way did she humiliate me. Rather she had wrote out of her kindness. I felt it was disrespectful to treat me as a child who could not follow grown-ups who was obedient the boss. I believed I have a free will and can take charge of my own destiny, but I was a bum here, to a certain degree she writes this stupid crap. “When you leave, please inform me of what your day today was all about.”

In Japan, there is the conventional foolish thing. Ho-ren-so, which means “spinach” in English. In short, “reporting.” Japanese companies spend too much time “reporting.”: morning assemblies, end-of-the-day assemblies and many other useless meeting are where you have to say your schedules, progresses and results. Moreover, you have to make reports about what you have done, even such trivial things that you think would never need sharing, that you fall into your boss’s hand.

Basically I was not permitted to act my own discretion and whenever I left my position, I had to tell someone like the staff that where I would go and what the reason was. Then as soon as I finished the task, I must come back to him and say“ I’m done” bowing. If you failed to do that, even once, you would make your boss uncomfortable.

However, the possibility had already occurred to me that I would succeed this practice unless I drop out, so I had decided not to withdraw from here. Like I had to get this qualification, no matter what. I thought in those days―withdrawal mean becoming a loser, as so many Japanese think, which drove me toward some kind of unspeakable perfection.

After Miya visited me, my assignment were reduced, and although I could save a little room in my heart, a new daunting task required of me. It is your duty to phone your homeroom teacher Tanaka, every single day. Give a report to your day. the division reader of my school, Mori—, ordered. “10:00 p.m.” Tanaka, who had worked hard all day, ordered, so I had got pretty nervous as the time approached.

Even if there was nothing unusual, I had to call him and I kind of made up the story, only to waste each other’s time. He was a workaholic with specialized knowledge, but I was not allowed to ask technical questions. It meant I should learn to be loyal, by doing as I was told―providing the reports.

In the morning, my DragStar engine stalled and the rain had started. The apprehensions grew darker; Japanese are obsessed with punctuality. If you are even one minute late, they think you do not have intimate awareness as a working adult. Maybe you know Japanese trains are always on time. Whatever the reason about being late, you have no excuse. Sucks. It was so easy for Matsu to put the blame on me.

The rain continued to fall steadily as I tried to start the ignition desperately. The devil would not want me to go to the practice. Deciding I should give up on the matter, I ran to the main road and looked for the taxis, which drove past me, but no vacant. Anyway I had been running toward the workplace, which was a couple of miles away from here. I was getting drenched when I realized it was too late to do anything and I slipped beneath the nearest eaves of a building. I phoned to my department to tell my situation in no time.

I charged at the locker room, dripping with rain. It was June and I was soaked with sweat, feeling restless. I pulled my T-shirt up over my head, wiping my wet hair and face. The skin on my neck felt itchy and I rubbed it with my couple of fingers. I was still rubbing when I opened my locker door, and I peeked in its small attached mirror―big, red pimples around my neck, my bangs getting thinner. These were most distressing.

Just as I entered the staff room, I saw head of the department Umeno sitting there. I apologized for having being late. “Your behavior exemplifies the attitude of the good student. You did inform us here you would be late. Besides, you have been reporting each day as I told you. It struck me as a great improvement on you. Good, good, please keep up the good work,”she reassured me.“Thank you very much,”I bowed. “I’ll do my best.”

My effort have borne some fruit, though I was not as satisfied as I would have liked. I just learned that disagreement is clear path to breaking harmony of those involved in the discussion, where pressure to conform squash even the slightest deviation from my perspective, ever since I had been here for my practice; I realized how miserable I had been enduring harassment like Japanese-style bulling. Nevertheless, apologizing and apologizing and apologizing.

Hair wet,  I made an apology to Matsu. Oddly, although she gazed at me emptily for a few second, she did not curse me, maybe because arriving late let me be honest―it was my fault and I had accepted it. Of course, she never said anything nice.