The Sembatsu Curse
...written on 12.08.01, @ 2:42 a.m.
Thu December 6, 2001
Everything had to be perfect this time. I had to be prepared. This would be my third class with the Sembatsu students and still stinging from my first two foul ups, I was anxious to do a stellar job.
I already wrote about one trip to Sembatsu, the one where I had loaded all my class materials into my bags, stopped at home to leave one bag (unfortunately, the one with everything in it, of course) and then upon discovering my gaffe in front of 14 expectant faces, had to improvise for an hour. Another time due to a schedule error, I prepared a listening test for a lower grade and had to improvise then as well.
So Thursday, despite there being an all staff meeting, I was ensconced in my apartment nursing a cold. I was ok to teach that night since it was only one class, but the frosty bicycle commute to work would have drained me, so I stayed home.
I called a co-worker and asked him to bring me some materials and info about when the class started. He passed the books and props to me over the plastic container of rice balls that he had purchased from newly opened rice shop in front of my apartment building, and exclaimed that he had forgotten to get the time of the class. I assured him it wasn't a problem and that I would call later and find out.
I waved goodbye to him in the purple and white cotton yukata covering my nightgown topped with a red fleece zip-up jacket. I had plenty of time, over 5 hours to get things together. No sweat.
I decided I was going to have an auction where the students would have to bid on grammatically correct sentences. I knew from teaching my International classes, that the 8th graders were learning comparatives and superlatives. Kohei was in the Tuesday class and I had played a game with them that went over well, and if we had time left over, I would play it and he could model the instructions for me since he was familiar with the game.
I got to the branch early despite the assurances from the supervising teacher that she could do my class since I was under the weather. I turned her offer down because I was excited about what I had planned and wanted to redeem my less than sterling past performances. I asked how many copies I should make of the Grammar Auction Sentences and was told '25'. I started a bit as I didn't remember Kohei's class being that big, maybe around 14 or 15 students, but I made the necessary copies anyway. I went over my notes and the directions and even explained the activity to another teacher who was interested in what I was going to do.
A few minutes before class, I walked down the darkened hallway looking into the one-way mirrored rooms, but I didn't see Kohei anywhere. Hmmm, maybe he was absent today . . .
Tomomi came to lead me to class and I looked in and saw a very large, very YOUNG audience. My stomach churned as I received the answer to my non-chalant inquiry as to what grade this class was. Over her shoulder floated the words, "Seventh grade".
Shit, not again! As Tomomi gave my intro, I blanched over the 25 still warm copies of Grammar Auction Sentences that would be way over the seventh graders heads. I ran out of the class and raced for my backpack. I quickly rifled the contents, but then hoisted it in its entirety and ran it back to the classroom as I scrambled through my brain for an alternate plan.
Luckily, I had packed enough Yes/No paddles for everyone and managed to play a trick that looked like it was planned. I told things about myself, some that were true, some that were lies, and the kids caught on real quick with the paddle routine.
After that, I broke out the Tic-Tac-Toe game that was going to be a warm up for the Sentence Auction, but I revised it. Instead of using words and phrases from my preprinted sentence list, after dividing the class into two teams (one 'X', one 'O'), I asked the kids for words. They energetically obliged and we were off and running.
They enjoyed the game which I interspersed with pronunciation practice and jokes. I marveled at how they were all participating and trying to help their team win.
I had to stop every once in a while and cough, and I noticed I was being observed from the hallway, but I thought everything was going great. The forty minutes were over in a flash and I thanked the students wholeheartedly for their earnestness and told them how happy I was with them. I said the same to Tomomi, telling her that they were great students and I enjoyed teaching them.
Later that evening, in the pretty much deserted Shirokiya restaurant, John, Brian and I shared our class war stories and I giggled and shook my head at my third potential near disaster.
Next time . . . next time, I will be ready for Sembatsu. I promise. Really.