Monthly Archives: March 2015

Goodbye and Good Luck and Good Riddance

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Today was the last day of exam passback classes which means there are a lot of students I won’t see again, at least for a while. In many cases this is a good thing.

At the school where I work, there is a progression in behavior. Junior high first year students (7th graders) are a lot of fun until the end of the year. At the beginning of the year you can scare them and trick them because they haven’t figured out the scam yet. (More on that later.)

Second year students (8th graders) have begun to figure out the scam. They are also entering the more incoherent and disruptive phase of puberty. Most, when they return from summer vacation, are suddenly grown up young men. At this point they begin working on the important things they’ll need for the rest of their teenage years 1) angst, 2) semi-coherence; and 3) absolute knowledge of anything and everything.

By the end of 8th grade most students have figured out the scam: 1) Mr. Lively’s class is only a percentage of their English mark and 2) they can’t fail.

This means that 9th graders, especially in the lower level classes, are difficult to teach. My biggest tool at this stage is orneriness and inherent meanness. Students quickly learn that I really will make them do homework at lunch and/or after school. One student had to come in at lunch everyday for a week until he finished spelling all the numbers from one to one-thousand.

Even the most disruptive students learn that making their lives miserable until they finish their work is something I do for sport. By the end of the year there are students who never want to see me again and I never want to see them again either even though that meant that I’d be passing my problems on to others. (Basically we all scream “Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia!”)

In all fairness, sometimes the student does better with the new teacher.

Today, though, was kind of pleasant. Although there are some students I hope I never see again, two of my 8th graders asked if I was going to be teaching them in 9th grade. I told them I wasn’t and they seemed disappointed. (Most are disappointed when they find out I’m going to be their teacher.)

Another student surprised me by having a fountain pen: A metallic green Pilot Vanishing point. (As seen here.) I was so impressed I gave him a bonus point (even though he didn’t actually need it).

 

Short Days At Work And Long Work Days At Home

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Today counts as my shortest day of work ever. Sort of.

Because we are in the pass back phase of exam season, I originally had little reason to go to the office today and, in fact, had planned to work from home (more on that later).

Then, suddenly, yesterday, lots of reasons to come in today found me. First, junior high school marks were due today which meant I finished marking my exams “yesterday” (at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it) and had to enter final marks in the computer today.

Then, yesterday, I got a text from one of my colleagues telling me that the make-up exam assignment was also due today. Basically, at the school where I work, if a student fails, he is “required” to take a make-up exam which, if he passes and/or bothers to show up (“required” means different things in different cultures apparently) he can get a passing grade. Also, if a student gets a near-failing grade, he has the option of taking the exam to improve his score to a not as near-failing grade. The exams can be either take home writing assignments or sit-down exams. In this case, I planned to assigned long essays and then read them at my leisure when and if they arrived on my desk.

Of course the assignment was due at 8:20 a.m. This meant I had to trudge into work as if I actually was going to work. (The school has not yet discovered an effective way to use the resources of the internet in situations like this.) I got to work at my usual time (7:50 a.m.), entered marks in the computer and filled out the proper forms for the make-up exam and then found the proper teacher and passed the assignment off.

That was all finished by 8:15.

As I’ve written before, I work at the school not for the school, which means if there are no classes I usually don’t have to be there.  Still, I felt kind of guilty being the first person to leave when not everyone had yet arrived. I meandered around a bit pretending I had something to do.  That lasted only a few minutes, though, and I left school at 8:30, which is ten minutes before classes started.

However, although I was not at the place where I’m assigned to work, I was responsible for filling the time with work related activities, which I totally did. Totally. I worked up next year’s calendars and started thinking about how I’m going to fill the days at the end of next week when I’m not working but am responsible for working.

Avril and the Spy Quarters and the Witch’s Doll

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Although I’ve traditionally had a very short temper, as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned a few things about revenge.

Several years ago there was a strange series of stories about Canada’s poppy quarters and whether or not they were actually listening devices. This was, of course, poppy cock, because everyone knows that Canada gets all its intel from the hundreds of comedians it exports to the USA every year. (Although, it should be added, that now that most filming is done in Canada, Canada’s spy chiefs are a bit confused at the chatter coming in.)

We are listening to you, eh?

We are listening to you, eh?

Although this odd controversy proved true everything I think about government–too many people, too much money, not enough brains–a Canadian colleague of mine decided it proved everything he thought about the USA–too, well, I didn’t actually listen when he complained so I’m not sure what the complaints were. He therefore determined that he would slip spy quarters in our stuff and let us discover them in our own good time.

Let me say that again: To mock my country he was going to give me money. Mock on, I say. Mock on.

We, his colleagues, found the quarters right way. That’s when the revenge ensued. We agreed not to mention it just to see how long it took him to crack and bring it up himself. It took just over two weeks of him hint dropping before he finally just asked us if we’d found them.

The other revenge involved Avril Lavigne. A different Canadian colleague knew that I was not a big fan of the Canadian crooner and after he somehow “stumbled across” one of her posters. (i.e. took a spare one off his wall at home) he decided to use it as a joke. When arrived at work the next day, Avril Lavigne was tacked above my desk taunting me about why I had to make things so complicated and why I could actually spell “skater”.

I knew this would require a special level of revenge. I left the poster in place as inspiration and tried to think of a good way to get back at him. Two years later, my colleague was cleaning out his desk and commented that there was a shocking amount of brown twine in his desk. (The brown twine is used to bind bundles of exams.) He said “what is this, something from the Blair Witch Project?”

A bell went off in my head and my hunting dog ears went up and I knew I had the revenge. I got a bunch of brown twine and shaped it like a voodoo doll. I cut Avril Lavigne’s face out of the poster and stuck it to the voodoo doll and put it in his desk drawer.

He reacted exactly the way I hoped he would but the last bit of revenge happened when he got ready to go home. I’d made a second doll and put it in his coat pocket. He found that one when he went to put on his gloves.

 

I haven’t had to do anything like that for a while, but now that I have fifty cents Canadian listening to everything I say, I’d probably better get ready for something to happen.

Skates and Sports and Tippy Toes with Bad Ankles

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I once had a very strange and informative discussion with a Canadian that revealed a lot about cultural differences and religion (or maybe it was sports; it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes).

For reasons I don’t remember, we were discussing the fact that I had once owned a pair of ice skates. He thought it funny that I’d owned what I guess are called “Tippy Toe” skates when I should have had hockey skates. (I don’t know if this is true or not and, quite frankly, don’t care. It’s just hockey and figure skating, after all.) I kept trying to point out that wearing hockey skates, at least where I grew up, would be the equivalent of wearing football cleats to run a marathon but he kept accusing me of being Johnny Weir.

I put it all down to cultural differences. Where I grew up we were into skiing not skating; where he grew up hockey is religion and so important that a loss in the Olympics will send an entire nation into mourning for a week, especially if that loss is to Finland and keeps them from even getting a bronze medal. (I saw this happen in 1998; my Canadian friends still cannot talk about it without choking up a bit.)

The most curious thing about all this is I don’t remember why I owned ice skates in the first place. Either I had requested them, with visions of me being more athletic than I was, or someone had thought it a good idea that I own a pair. (Every boy should own a pocket knife, a baseball glove and a pair of figure skates?) Something like that.

However I ended up with them, I joined a group of people at a small frozen pond in a gully near my house in Hayden, Colorado. I got on the ice, and well, things didn’t go so well. Weak ankles run in my family and I found it hard to keep the skates vertical. Most of the time I was walking on the sides of the skates and trying to actually, well, skate.

I tried skating a couple more times after that and it went badly again.  I did the manly thing and gave up and put the skates away forever.

For all I know, they’re still tucked away in a box somewhere.

The Kickstarter’s Dilemma

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Any careful consideration of the topic will convince you that Kickstarter is a very dangerous place to visit, especially if you own a credit card.

And it’s not the only place that’s dangerous.

Part of the danger stems from an odd idea I got a couple years ago that an interesting way to tithe, especially as I am dubious of churches as institutions (long story), would be to contribute a small percentage of my income to supporting small manufacturers, especially those just starting out. I also had a preference for manufacturers in the USA, although that was a guideline not a rule. I started with knife makers (in the USA and New Zealand) and, thanks to the enablers at the Pen Addict podcast, slowly moved into pens and other things being sold on Kickstarter.

This has been a mixed blessing. Thus far I’ve backed eight projects and had little or no problem with four of them. My first project was a batch of pen cases from Nock Co (owned by Brad Dowdy of the Pen Addict) and although there was some delay caused by the company’s ambition (hint: too many ideas, too many colors, not enough time, no sewing machine), I got the pen cases with no problem and now carry two regularly. I also passed a couple to the girls and use a couple more as storage for pen parts. Granted, there are a couple unused cases I stare at and think “what ever will I do with you” and they whisper back buy more pens and I whisper back “okay”. (No, really, the pen cases whisper to me. I think.)

I also had no problem with Eighty Pages, Karas Kustoms or the Decadent Minimalist One wallet.

Two projects, however, have proceeded slowly. One at least keeps backers updated; the other doesn’t seem to understand why the backers are upset that deadlines keep being missed. Two haven’t yet had a chance to disappoint.

I’ve declined to back more projects than I’ve supported, including pens from Tactile Turn, although I then ended up winning one in a contest. I can’t explain my criteria. Some things don’t interest me enough to bother and somethings don’t ship to Japan. Somethings are absurdly priced.

I’m also always aware that I’m walking a thin line between “tithing” and “just buying stuff”.

Then there’s Massdrop. That’s another danger zone. (Although it has some nice stuff.)

 

Searching for the Rhythm but Finding the Denial

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A couple hours ago, a friend of mine gave me a tip to help me get through the rest of my exam marking: Mark one test. Play one game. Mark one test. Play one game.

The funny part is, this is pretty much what I already do.

I’ve written before about how this time of year is confusing for us and how we have to pay attention to what we’re doing.

This year, at least for me, is especially complicated. I finished marking my high school exams  Tuesday evening and have spent the last few days passing the tests back. Since I haven’t had much to do in the afternoon and evenings, I’ve gone to pen shows and played games. Mentally and physically, I feel as if I’m already finished.

The problem is today I got a new batch of exams, which means I have to somehow convince myself that I’m not finished. To make matters worse, there are not that many of them (48; for high school I had over 160) and they are not due until Wednesday.

Now, the adult thing to do would be to sit down and start marking and not stop until the last exam was marked. Yeah, great plan, too bad I’m not actually an adult once I’ve finished exams, even when I’m not actually finished. In fact, I get down right lazy once I’ve finished. This means if I don’t get past this denial phase and start marking, it’s not joke that the work will expand to fit the time and it will take four days to finish the exams. (And I don’t mean by doing an efficient

I started marking exams this evening and then spent an hour playing games whilst chatting with my friend via the glorious time wasting magical powers of the internet. While we were playing he suggested the plan I mentioned before.

I’ll have to surf the internet a while and think about that plan more carefully. Then I’ll do some marking. Maybe.

Racks of Temptation But Little Fun

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I only reached for my credit card twice but I ended up not buying anything.

Well, maybe it was three times.

Today was the 6th World Fountain Pen Fair at Maruzen Books in downtown Tokyo. After work, I rushed down to Tokyo, cameras in hand, hoping to get some useful material for this site. When I arrived at Maruzen, I was surprised to see the fair was taking place in the basement.

When I got to the basement, the first thing I did was look for the Nakaya table. (Note, For those who don’t love fountain pens and therefore have no soul: Nakaya pens are one of the Holy Grails of fountain pens.) (Second Note: in this case “Holy Grail” is Japanese for “Really F@#king Expensive Pen”). They are sought after because they are handmade by experienced artisans and manage to be both simple and beautiful.

Unfortunately, Nakaya didn’t seem to be anywhere in the basement. Instead I looked around at famous production pens like Pelikan and, oddly, Platinum, which is the company Nakaya split from. The entire fair could have been mistaken for simply another department in the store as there was nothing special about it. While I was there, I tried out a Pelikan Souveran 800 and started reaching for my credit card. I do not claim this was a sane act but I did it. Luckily, I remembered I was looking for Nakaya pens so put my credit card back.

I then went to the 3rd floor to check out a rare and antique books section and found a new must-have item for work: a fake dictionary that houses a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass.

On the way back downstairs, I suddenly stumbled across the Nakaya table, which was set up practically in the foyer next to umbrellas. It was a terrible location where casual shoppers met pen addicts in a small traffic jam.

Today was especially interesting for Nakaya fans because Mr. Shinichi Yoshida, the nibmeister for Nakaya, was at the table adjusting nibs for newly purchased pens. The cheapest pen I saw that I liked was just over 59,000 yen or 491 US dollars. Oddly, this is a decent price for a Nakaya with a nib modified by Mr. Yoshida so I started to reach for my credit card. I then realized that I was like the 10th person in line hoping to even get in line so I put my credit card back.

Mr. Yoshida works on the youngest man at the show's new purchase.

The Nakaya table. Mr. Yoshida (right) works on the youngest man at the show’s new purchase.

Right next to the Nakaya table was the Ohashi-do table. Ohashi-do is a Sendai based fountain pen maker who also makes everything by hand. Or, maybe, by foot.

I neglected to write down the name of the artisan, but he was busy working a foot-powered lathe to make a pen and I didn’t want to interrupt him. The line for the table was short and I started to reach for my credit card, but I was more interested in watching the man with no name work.

The man with no name works using his feet.

The man with no name works using his feet. He has really cool socks.

The man with no name adjusts the lathe with a small mallet.

The man with no name adjusts the lathe with a small mallet. You can see how long the orange acrylic rod is.

All in all, I find that Japanese pen shows are lacking in energy. The Nakaya and Ohashi-do tables were fun, but the rest was boring clerks in suits. I’ll go to the 16th Mitsukoshi Fountain Pen Festival next week. I hope it’s more fun.

I probably better leave my credit cards at home before I go. I don’t know if I can survive temptation twice.

Eighty Pages but Nary a Pen That Works

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I like the idea of the Eighty Pages notebooks, but as soon as I got my hands on one I knew there would be issues.

Sometime in December or early January, I was roaming through my various pen addiction enabling websites and a number of them mentioned a Kickstarter project by Eighty Pages, a “small batch” notebook company based in New York City.

I liked the look of the notebooks and because the price was right I joined the Kickstarter and just a few days ago got my notebooks and being an addict, the first thing I did was take pictures of them and the Eighty Pages swag that accompanied them:

Well-made and gorgeous.

Well-made and gorgeous.

On the surface they look great. They are 3.5″ by 5.5″ or about the size of a Field Notes notebook, but I like that they come with more pages. They have thick card stock covers that are hand-stitched to the paper and are embossed with “made by” information on the back cover. Each comes with a serial number. The first number tells you the volume; the second tells you where in the production yours was made. It looks great, but I really don’t care about that information. The stickers are a nice touch but the golf pencil is already at the state where I used to throw out my old pencils back when I still used wood pencils.

I slipped the seal off the red one to fondle the paper because, well, yeah, that’s what you do.

I was immediately worried. The paper is thick, which is nice, but it’s rough. In fact, it reminded me of watercolor paper or the paper that comes in sketch books. It’s designed for pencils, not pens.

I confirmed that by breaking out my fountain pens and doing a little test. Every pen, including those with the widest nibs, scratched and skipped across the paper. The best thing I can say about that experience is there was no show-through or bleed-through at all. A Pilot G2 ballpoint with a .5 mm tip also had trouble. Yeah, that’s right, even a ballpoint pen was scratchy on the paper.

Only the Tacticle Turn Shaker I won in a drawing last year wrote smoothly, mostly because it has a wide Schmidt refill.

Today, I broke out an old drawing pencil I still have from decades ago–see kids, this is why you should never throw things out–and did a quick sketch of something apocalyptic on a back page. The sketch was crap but it confirmed that this is paper for pencils not fountain pens.

This was just a couple passes with 6B. It looks great, for a sketch book.

This was just a couple passes with a 6B pencil. You can see how rough the paper is.

In the end, I like the idea behind Eighty Pages more than I like the notebooks. I’m glad I bought them, although they may get passed to the girls. If you’re looking for a small sketchbook, they might be worth trying out. If you like pens, though, they aren’t worth it.

I hope, in the future, the makers experiment with different types of paper that are more pen friendly. If they do, I’ll probably be first in line to try them.

 

Crumbs and Licked Fingers

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Today we celebrated our girls by eating way too much.

Today is Hinamatsuri, also known as Girl’s Day. Traditionally, families with daughters set out dolls that represent the Emperor, Empress and the Imperial court from 1,200 years ago. The dolls are handmade by artisans and it is tradition to start with a small set and then add to it every year. We are cheap and lazy which means we stuck to the original set and never added to it. However, we also carefully avoid any Hina doll artisans shops when we are with the girls.

Akira Kurosawa had a gorgeous scene in his occasionally interesting, often boring film Dreams where Hina dolls came to life and started dancing. (The scene is here, but some moron has added Philip Glass music to it rather than the traditional Japanese music. It still looks great, though.)

It is also tradition to eat Chirashizushi, which we did, but we also added a side dish of fried chicken, honoring our daughters with the ultimate version of surf and turf. The surf and turf dishes were followed by the cake, which She Who Must Be Obeyed spent the better part of the day preparing an shaping like a Hina doll set:

This looks great now but a few minutes later it was nothing but crumbs and licked fingers.

This looks great now but a few minutes later it was nothing but crumbs and licked fingers.

Unfortunately, our bookshelves are full of books, including the small one we used to use to display the dolls. Because of this we didn’t have room to ward off the bad spirits which means we’ll still have to deal with our oldest being a teenager.

Ghosts and Phantoms and Fuzzy Apparitions

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Three different times in my career I’ve had students I never met.

I do not understand how this happens but at the school where I work (and throughout Japan for that matter) there are students who, for whatever reason, no longer come to class but have not dropped out of school. We’ve dubbed them “phantoms” or “ghosts” (Well, actually I did which gives you great insight into my ability for sympathy.)

There is a subtle difference between the two: Phantoms were seen once in class and then disappeared making you wonder if you actually ever saw them; ghosts have been photographed in the class picture but have never been seen in class. I would recognize a phantom if I saw him again; I wouldn’t recognize a ghost.

Most of the students who do this have mental issues (for the record: most of them had the issues BEFORE they took my class) and every student in their class seems to understand this (with varying degrees of sensitivity). In fact, the only person who doesn’t understand is usually me or my fellow foreign staff colleagues.

However, in an odd twist, most of these students actually sit for the exams, albeit in other rooms. Last term, we had to rush around carrying spare listening test CDs to different rooms because we had three ghosts but none wanted to be in the same room as the others. This year, the powers-what-are piped the listening into a spare room and then had someone run the CD to a different room.

Sometimes I am asked to provide study material for the phantoms and ghosts. Sometimes I am not. In several cases, the phantoms and ghosts did better than the students who actually came to class. I used to take this as an indictment on my teaching–the secret to passing Lively’s class: take a pass on Lively’s class–until I realized that the phantoms and ghosts who did well were always part of low level classes which, even those that are reasonably well behaved, are always noisy and hard to teach. By escaping the classroom, the ghosts and phantoms may have found a quiet way to study.

In junior high, missing class is problematic because education is both a basic right and a compulsory duty–students are supposed to go to class where the teachers have to take them, no matter how bad they are–but no one in junior high actually fails. The worse that happens at the school where I work is students are not invited to attend the high school.

In high school, though, students can fail for poor attendance. However, if they fail they are given a shot at a make up exam. If they pass the exam, they pass the course. They may not get invited to the university, but they will get at least a high school diploma from a big name school.

Secretly, part of me wishes I’d figured out how to do this when I was in junior high.