Groundhog day

I have now been to every elementary school on the island. This means that whenever I see a child between the ages of 6 and 12, I can rest assured that I met them, probably even shook their clammy hand while they chanted:

"Hello. My name is Adam. I like soccer. Nice to meet you."

Example sentences. When you don't know the meaning of "my" "name" or "is" it is a logical conclusion to assume that what comes next is naturally "Adam". When you can't read, you shuffle things into your short-term memory to survive the day. You have to trick them into accidentally remembering.

My job on day one is not so much to teach, as it is to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that I am a world-destroying bad-ass, who can and has done everything. My self-introduction, a carefully constructed portrait--a best of reel. And I make them tell me I'm lying first. That's the best part really. It's a game I play with them to keep the self-intro interesting, where sensei says something and you get to say whether you believe him or not. Teach "true" and "false". It's fantastic. You make them choose a side, and then either prove they were right, affirming how awesome you are, or prove they were wrong, affirming how awesome you are. Yes, I did climb Mt. Fuji. Yes, I did go to college all the way up in Minnesota. I love dancing.

You speak slower and slower, the longer you do this. You learn which bits you need to translate to begin with, to keep your team-teacher from translating all of it. You ask for questions, with a list of answers prepared. Green. Camel. Tacos. 22. Single.

I teach every lesson at least 9 times. You have ample opportunities to find out what works and what doesn't.

After 2 weeks of the same self-intro, the challenge is to keep smiling, keep jumping around, keep singing your questions in Japanese. To keep showing them that you are a loon, to show them that you're not the type of person who is going to judge them for making a mistake, as long as they make an attempt. There isn't really room for an off day. It's taxing. But it's worth it.

And boy, if you thought you were famous before. Hello, Bai-bai, Oh! Adamu! I don't stop talking from the time I leave the office to the time I get home. And I am going very fast on a bike for all of it.

And oh katakana. Let me count the ways.

I suspect, that on a long enough time line, Japanese and English will slowly converge so that one is actually a dialect of the other. To speak Japanese, just take the English word you know and love, and insert a vowel between every consonant block. Convert certain troublesome sounds into easier ones. And write in katakana. Sometimes apply non-standard usage, "at home" becomes an adjective, implying a comfortable sort of feeling. "Viking" remains a noun, but denotes buffet-style eating, rather than a pillaging horde. Because vikings are hungry.

If I ever find myself in a position where my words carry any kind of influence on this island, I'm using my powers to get phonics inserted firmly into the English curriculum. Call it a pet project.