A couple weeks ago I was kind of hoping for snow. Now I’m hoping for a beautiful, sunlit day.

Every year around this time the school where I work conducts the annual marathon event. This involves high school students running a 10K course and junior high school students running a 5K course.

For the event, regular classes are cancelled, but if the weather turns bad, the marathon is cancelled and we have regular classes. This leads to an odd situation where students desperately want to have regular classes and teachers (specifically ME) are hoping for good weather.

This year, though, because two of my third year junior high school classes meet only three times this term whilst the other meets six times, I was kind of hoping that we’d have regular classes.

However, recent events have led to two teachers being absent for a short time. This means that if we have class tomorrow, I’ll have a five hour schedule and lose most of my planning time as I help substitute for the absent teachers.

I don’t mind this, even though the teachers work for a different company, but taking over another teacher’s classes creates complications that I don’t need when I’m supposed to be finalizing a final exam.

Therefore, I’ve changed my position on the weather. Here’s hoping for sunshine, or at least a marked lack of precipitation.

My first two classes today reminded me a lot of being stuck in a night club that plays crappy music at a volume capable of drowning out jet engines. You can’t leave because your drunk friend thinks he has a chance with the cute blonde and all you can do is watch and go deaf whilst he gyrates in spasms that he thinks counts as dancing.

At the end of the evening you’re speaking loudly and can barely hear him as he complains about how much the cute blonde is missing out on.

My first class was especially loud as I hadn’t seen them, because of entrance exams, since the middle of last month. They’d forgotten a lot of rules. Three students hadn’t even bothered to bring their textbooks.

This means they had to be reminded of how petty and mean I can be, especially as we approach the end of the school year.

One of my worst students was trying to get me angry by parroting anything I said. He spoke in  a mumbly voice that got laughs from the class. I countered him by always asking him to repeat what he’d just said. He likes the attention and laughter of the class but doesn’t like my attention because it often comes with homework.

Tomorrow, if the same three don’t have their textbooks, I’ll put them at the back in what I call the playroom. They get zeros for the day, as does anyone who talks to them. Talk to them twice and you get homework.

Events at the school where I work have brought back bad memories as colleagues have to rush home to care for loved ones in their final hours and after. This has me depressed so the only recourse right now is to make fun of my students.

Well, sort of.

What was my best first year class is now competing to see if it can be my worst. Despite that, I let them pick their own seats a few weeks ago to see if that changed the dynamic. It didn’t, but it puts the problems into one main area which makes it easier to isolate.

However, one student has decided he doesn’t like the place he chose and he’s now lobbying for a new chair. I asked him why and his answers were vague, but I suspect that because he chose a seat at the back near an odd corner, he’s limited in who he can talk/cause trouble with.

I told him I’d be happy to oblige the move, but that everyone would sit in seats I assigned. To help make the point, I had a seating chart drawn up and explained to everyone where they’d be sitting. By coincidence, the worst boys would be sitting up front near me in what one colleague calls a “wall of noise”.

After much students grumbling about the sample chart I put it to a vote and the one student was outvoted. Now the only grumbling is his.

They all may still end up moving, but there won’t be any votes when that happens.

The end of a term is bittersweet, especially when you know you won’t be back next term.

Tonight was the last class of the evening class I’ve been teaching. Because I am, for all intents and purposes, a kind of ronin who doesn’t work for the company, I accept what I’m offered but always expect to be unoffered, so to speak, the next term. In fact, teaching two terms in a row is rather unusual so I’m grateful for the extra cash.

That said, my four jobs are about to become one (two are ending and won’t be renewed and one is, well, long story). I’m not sure if I’m relieved or not, but I’m kind of glad as I’ve been feeling the wear and tear of all this lately.

However, this means that the time I waste will be my own.

Filling up time with work is a nice way to avoid doing other things. Not having work means I’ll have to find another way to avoid doing other things. I call this “being creative” and I’m pretty good at it.

I have a student in one of my classes who, inevitably, asks something stupid and useless, usually when I’m angry. It has become a tradition that my only answer is to tell him to shut up.

Last week, I let him and his fellow students choose their seats rather than remaining in the ones I assigned for them. I don’t usually do this, but this class needed a shake up and the new seating plan lasts only if it produces good behavior. If it doesn’t, they get up to three strikes before they go back to the old seating chart or to a new one that I assign.

(Note: the record for return to old seats is fifteen minutes, not counting the time I cancelled the change during the seating process because the students wouldn’t follow the rules.)

Today’s class got two strikes in rapid succession. Students to my right had formed a small conversation circle and students to my left followed suit. All were talking when I was trying to explain the assignment.

When I broke up the second circle I announced the class had two strikes and that one more would lead to a new seating chart they wouldn’t like.

As I spoke, the student I mentioned before started shouting “teacher, teacher, teacher” forgetting that I don’t respond to common nouns, only proper ones. Finally, even though I was still speaking, he figured out he had to call me by my name. I told him to be quiet because 1) I was talking and 2) I knew that nothing he would say would be useful.

He kept up the name chant until finally just asking his question: “Who got the first strike?” I told him I’d just told him. “Who got the first strike?” This conversation repeated a few more times until I told him to shut up, which he did.

Keep in mind, I do not think any of this makes me either a great person or a great teacher. It just means I’ll have to think up a new seating chart for next week.

I  try not to prejudge classes, but as the school year comes to an end I’ve already got them figured out so I can’t help it. That said, what happened may have been my fault.

Today was the first day of speech contest speeches for my high school second year (11th grade) students. The speech order was chosen by lottery, but as an experiment I let students have their scripts available whereas in the past they’ve had to memorize it completely. I did add the rules that 1) they had to memorize the first half of their speeches and 2) if they needed help after that, they couldn’t read.

This turned out to be a mistake.

The first student looked up for one line then started reading his script. The next four students didn’t even bother to look up. They just started reading. Having the script available gave them the chance to be lazy and they took the chance.

As they did so, the percentage for memorization rose from 20% to 40% of the final score and their scores suffered. After the fourth student read, I pointed out that no one who had spoken had received higher than 40%. There then ensued a brief panic, especially when I pointed out that even if everyone got a low score, I’d still send at least one student to the speech contest at the end of the term.

A couple students did better after that, but I can tell they think I’m joking about sending someone, not matter what.

In my afternoon class, things went much better. Students referred to their scripts but didn’t read. However, the real problem came because a couple students were absent. This meant a student who hadn’t finished his speech was called on to perform his speech.

He then made huge mistake. Because he’s used to bullshitting his way out of things, he claimed his speech was too long for the time left in class. Since I’d seen him play with his smartphone for two classes under the guise of “using the dictionary” whilst not actually writing anything, I muttered something along the lines of “bullshit” (in fact, I may have actually said “bullshit”) and assured him that since it was the last class of the day, he had plenty of time to finish.

He admitted he had no speech, which means he failed the speech.

The next student did okay, but I may be seeing a lot of students at the make up exam at the end of this term.

I didn’t mean to be snippy but I was. I don’t think they meant to be rude but they were.

The young men in the class I teach on Sundays play well together which means they like to play a lot. Eventually, however good they are at the beginning of the day, after lunch they start to get excess distracted energy and look for ways to burn it.

The first guy who, by colossal coincidence, was almost thrown out last week, has a habit of trying to make jokes out of questions. When I asked him, as the assignment required, how much he typically paid for a haircut, he responded with “one dollar”. I then asked him where he got his hair cut and he repeated “one dollar”. He tried to escalate the joke from there but I cut it off. I promised him I’d never call on him again, which, of course, means he won’t get any participation points.

The second guy went into parrot mode which meant every time I spoke he thought it was funny and repeated what I said. This is a default mode for male high school students in Japan, but it won’t serve him well at a US university.

Finally, when I said the word “cheaper” (we were studying comparative adjectives) he started repeating “cheaper, cheaper, cheaper” and laughed as he did it.

He may have been trying to impress a young woman, but it was my time to make an impression. I stopped class and got his attention and asked him if there was something wrong with my pronunciation. The conversation went something like:

Him–What?
Me–Is there something wrong with my pronunciation?
Him–What?
Me–After I said “cheaper” you started repeating it and laughing. Did I say it wrong?
Him–(after a long pause/translation help from the young woman he was trying to impress) I’m sorry.

The funny part is, after all these years in Japan, my pronunciation probably was pretty bad. I kind of wish he’d helped me out.

Saw a group of students today and reminded them that the next time I see them will be their last class. Or maybe not. It depends on the weather.

One of the schedule quirks at the school where I work is that entrance exams for junior high and high school muck up the schedule. Some JHS 3 classes meet six times. One meets three. Some classes meet each week. Some meet twice this month, once next month.

My first and lasses classes today both had their second classes of the term and I reminded them, as I sent them away, that the next class would be their last class, and that we’d talk about the final exam.

The only catch in this is marathon day. If the weather is bad, the marathon will be cancelled and we’ll have regular classes. This is the only day that students hope they can have class.

As for me, as useful as the extra class would be, I’m hoping mother nature sends us a gorgeous day.