Dream Job

A bit about my job.

Imagine that you're out with your friend and they've brought some people you don't know along. And you're all sitting there in some bar or other, sipping your drinks. You find that your friend's friends aren't that interesting to talk to. If you're lucky they might start talking about their work or housing problems, which helps fill the silence. But more often than not, you find that it's you who has to intitiate the conversation, and it all trails off in a series of yes no answers.

Then, horror of horrors, your friend goes off to the toilet. You're stuck at the table with the people who have nothing to say. You wish the fire alarm would go off or a window-shattering earthquake would happen, if only to create an ice-breaker.

That's my job.

A typical day at my company will feature this scenario seven times, each jaw-clenching episode lasting forty minutes. More often than not, the "classes" start like this:

Me: Hello. How are you?
Students: ...
Me: Oh.

And your heart sinks as you realise that this is going to be one of those classes. After ten minutes you take a look at the clock, hoping that enough time has passed so that you can at least move onto the textbook, and any pretense at normal chat is over. But the clock is cruel today - it is moving slowly to spite you, taunting you with its cheap, nasty, 100 yen shop hands.

At least in the bar with the dull friend, there is alcohol.

You talk about yourself, trying to create a "hook" interesting enough to make them ask one, just one, question. You start thinking of ludicrous scenarios, anecdotes, what-if questions, anything, anything, to make the student say something. You resort to outrageous lies:

Me: I met the Queen once. Ask me a question.
Student: ...

It should be noted that of course, in most cases, the students are rather reserved and shy. That's understandable. But why sign up to these classes if you're not going to participate? I had a religious studies teacher who once said that going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to Macdonalds makes you a hamburger. And it's the same here - turning up to a language school isn't going to automatically class you as an English speaker. It isn't like joining a club where membership equals status.

I have to add that of course there are exceptions to the rule. There are students who participate wonderfully and don't leave the teacher with a sore throat from all the silence filling (last year I lost my voice precisely every Wednesday evening after a day of one-sided conversation). These students try. They are interesting people. And it isn't down to their language ability either - some of my favourite students have trouble stringing sentences together. The fact is that they understand the concept - conversation schools are meant for conversation.

The more I think about it, the more I realise that we foreigners in these schools are actually hosts - hosts minus the booze, naughty promises and huge hairstyles, entertaining like geisha in Uniqlo office attire.

Most foreigners in Japan don't do this forever.

Student: ...
Fantasy Me: I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!