Today was the mid-year seminar for all the Assistant Language Teachers in my prefecture. I was lassoed into helping out this year, so that meant that I had to go in early, and leave late. Bummer.
I got there early and met with other lucky(?) people. We got a brief explanation of our roles. We were expected to handle registration, and then moderate the discussions in the afternoon. We were paired with a Japanese English teacher, and together it was our job to run things. I knew I was in trouble when the Japanese teacher said, “Oh, I’m so glad that I’m paired with an ALT – you can do all the talking!”
Registration went just fine. Mr. Yamamoto, the teacher representing my school came in late, and left early. Sneaky guy, that one. During the speeches we had a short meeting with Mr. Hasegawa, the head honcho, and then we got an early start walking to the building where they hold the workshops.
My JTE partner, Ms. Shiomomori, and I had lunch at a soba place and talked over our strategy. The more we talked, the more I realized that I was going to be running the show. In the end we had about 60 participants, and I had to keep them on schedule and communicating effectively. Two years ago I would have balked at the task, but after being in front of a bunch of crazy high school students, this was easy. I cracked all kinds of obscure jokes, and just tried to enjoy myself and be natural.
After a very busy day of workshopping, I met up with Antoine and Nel and we went out to a Thai restaurant near Chinatown in southern Motomachi. The place had a great atmosphere, with water running in resevoirs throughout the restaurant. They had built bridges inside the restaurant to cross the resevoirs, and the ambiance was really nice.
Thai food was great – especially the coconut curry. From there we walked back to the train station and went to Akashi to hit Donkey. The place was packed – they were having a Gamay Beaujolais party. They had a small barrel of Beaujolais, and everyone was drinking heavily. Since we didn’t have a reservation we ordered beer at the bar, and watched all the fun. Unfortunately the dart board was blocked by the party, but the master assured us that we could play at nine o’clock.
To kill time we drank a lot. Antoine was drinking an angry beverage from Okinawa that was really strong, and Nel and I drank beer. We struck up a conversation with one of the regulars, who insisted on buying us several rounds. A drunken woman started talking with Antoine, and her language was really bad. She seemed to know only a couple of phrases – “Fucking A”, “I’m melting!” and “Sex In The City”. She tried hard to introduce us to the master’s daughter who was working that night. She also introduced us to a friend of hers who she claimed wore a bra with an “F” cup. She said that they were “F”uji sized.
I think it was Nel who came up with the idea to say that we were all gay dancers. We all have wives and girlfriends and we weren’t interested at all in the advances from the master’s daughter and the drunken lady. Throughout the evening Nel kept saying that we were all gay dancers, and so we weren’t interested. Everybody liked the term “gay dancer” and used it over and over again, enjoying the chance to use some contemporary English.
Our friend who was buying us drinks didn’t seem to mind hanging out with a gay dance troupe, so we played quite a few games of darts and had a good time. Finally, we had enough, so we got out of there. On the way out, the master’s daughter gathered up the courage to ask me if I was really a gay dancer. Since I go in there more than some of the other guys, I had to tell the truth, and she looked relieved. Now our secret is out. We’re not gay!
We walked back and said goodbye until tomorrow. We’ve got one more seminar, and then it’s the weekend. Boo-yah.
