A couple boys were being boys today, which means I had to throw them out of class for a few minutes.

During an attempt to check answers to an assignment, I called on a student, let’s call him Koji. Koji gave the right answer but I mistakenly said he was wrong then corrected myself. This caused my worst student, let’s call him Abaddon, to stand up and start mocking him for being wrong. I told Abaddon to sit down and shut up–or, even better, shut up then sit down–and he condemned my soul to hell but sat down (something like that).

During the next assignment, when I was reviewing my notes and assigning a few marks, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Koji throw a pen at Abaddon who was teasing him again. I got them both quiet again and Abaddon vowed that demons would eat my heart in hell and that someone’s mother sews socks that smell (something like that).

Not a minute later, when I was helping a student realize that, yes, he too had to do the assignment, I saw something large fly through the air and heard a loud thump and crash. Koji had thrown the entire contents of his desk at Abaddon, including an electronic dictionary that ended up so mangled and bent I think it now counts as an iPhone 6.

As they moved toward each other for a real fight, my voice went to 11 and I told both students to get out of my class. Koji stormed out and sat in the hall by door at the back of the classroom. Abaddon suddenly got quiet. This meant he knew he’d crossed a line because usually he puts on a show for the rest of the class. I forced him to sit by the closest door and told both not to talk. They could come back when they were calmed down and ready to work.

Eventually they both came back and after class I marched them down to the teachers’ office to find their homeroom teachers. When I couldn’t find the homeroom teachers, I told the vice-principal what was going on and he went from happy-go-lucky to bad-ass in only one breath. He berated them until a homeroom teacher arrived.

Both boys confessed (although Abaddon only confessed to teasing Koji but didn’t say what he’d actually said that set him off) and the homeroom teacher explained that apparently they’d hated each other since junior high and this was just one in a long line of confrontations.

I told them that next time they fought in my class they’d get more homework than they could possibly imagine.

I also told Koji to just go over and punch Abaddon next time–unless he was really hoping to get a new dictionary.

No, I didn’t say that, but I was thinking it.

Today’s post is brought to you by the letters T and D and by the number 19.

T is for Typhoon:
If you’re keeping score, this is the second typhoon in a week and the 19th of the season and, just for fun, it’s more powerful than last week’s typhoon. Also, for the record, Number 19 sounds scarier than the official name: “Vongfong“. (It’s the difference between a ski run called “Death’s Door” and one called Number 2. Think about it.)

The frequency and lethality of the storms has prompted the Japanese press to dub them “Suzumebachi Typhoons” or “Japanese Giant Hornet Typhoons.” The Japanese Giant Hornet is a particularly nasty beast that seems to be an unholy hybrid of hornet, bird, and demon that feeds on human corpses. (Something like that.) They also tend to attack in swarms.

D is for Dilemma:
It currently appears as if the worst part of Typhoon 19 will pass North of us, but we’ll get a lot of wind and rain. This brings about a dilemma.

One of the problems with mandatory schooling is that the people who force others to be there don’t go there; the people forced to be there don’t want to be there; and the people paid to be there like neither the people forced to be there nor the people forcing them to be there and want to somehow to get paid for not being there. Anyone paid to be there who actually wants to be there when they don’t have to be there is either weird or an a$$hole.

On the other hand, every now and then a perfect storm (sigh, yes, I know, but you’ll see) of factors combine to show the people paid to be there that it might be better if they actually go there.

In my case, last week I assigned a big project to my high school third years and they are supposed to present it tomorrow. If they don’t, it messes up the final project in a term in which they’ve already got few classes and I’ve had to cut some of my regular material. It’s actually in the best interest of my sanity that I actually go to work tomorrow. (Weird or A$$hole? You be the judge.)

Also, if school is cancelled, the terms of my contract require me to produce some kind of “material” or “evidence of work” or I lose a day of paid holiday. This is easier than actually going to work but it also means that our oldest and our youngest will also be home which means sister fights and oldest vs She Who Must Be Obeyed But Teenage Daughters Think They Are Exempted fights.

That said, I’m always happy to work from home. I just hope everyone stays safe.

It’s weird for me to say, but I benefit from government incompetence.

If the Japanese government were at all good at making an effective English curriculum and education teachers, I’d probably be out of a job.

When I first came to Japan the thing I noticed right away was the huge difference in English levels between my younger colleagues and my older colleagues. The older colleagues had little interest in English–many of them hadn’t wanted to be English teachers–and generally followed the official government textbook. Fortunately for them, the Japanese English teaching system, even in 2014, allows a teacher to teach English without ever having to speak it. (More on that later.)

Instead, people like me were brought in to provide “real” English and develop speaking activities.

My younger colleagues, though, were more interested in English. They’d made conscious choices to become English teachers but found themselves managed by the teachers who couldn’t care less. They were also hindered by the odd Japanese English system.

The textbooks–with a few exceptions–are designed by committees following strict Ministry of Education rules. The rules dictate how many new vocabulary words can be taught in one book. Any book that fails a rule, is sent back for revision.

The result is several textbooks with different titles but identical teaching plans. Every textbook is a bizarrely disorganized mess that teaches grammar in a scatter-shot way by focusing on grammatical structures rather than verbs and verb tenses. “I am” and “you are” are taught in one unit but “He is” and “She is” are taught later in the book even though they are the same verb tense. The books also teach relatively complex grammar “My grandfather is a man who likes to play darts in the pub as he enjoys a pint brewed by a man who is an expert at making beer.” (Note: that sentence is not actually from the textbook.)

The books also require the teachers to teach at the same pace in the same order. If they don’t, students will have difficulty on the mandatory exams. This kills any real possibilities for new ideas and modern teaching techniques. When I was still in Niigata, I would stop teaching junior high 3rd year classes (9th grade) early in October because 1) my spoken English lessons did not fit the curriculum and 2) my colleagues didn’t have time for my lessons.

The result is students who study English for six years in junior high and high school and a year or two at university but can’t speak English.

It’s all silly and a waste of resources, but I hope the curriculum planners never get their act together.