Annoying-sensei
When you’ve taught in Japan long enough, you find that Japanese teachers are just as varied and colorful in personality as anywhere else in the world (because DUH, ya racist). And, with that variety comes the invariable dud or two. Alongside “Fashionable-sensei,” or “Hilarious-sensei,” or the “beloved Drunk-sensei” is the odious “Annoying-sensei.”
I met my Annoying-sensei about a year ago. At first, I thought he was nice. He enthusiastically spoke to me in English, seemed eager to teach with me, and even co-supervised the weekly English lunch, helping me connect with the students. He dutifully praised my Japanese skills, which I meekly protested but secretly loved. I even found him, dare I say, attractive when I first met him... in a sweet, dad-like kind of way. And yet, his insufferable qualities soon reared their ugly heads, and I was powerless to my rage.
1. He doesn’t shut the fuck up.
This is the most acute reason why I hate him. This man cannot look at me without saying something. His unending deluge of Japanese set phrases for “good morning,” “I look forward to working together,” and “Nice work!” are causing me to despise the Japanese language altogether.
His previously welcome compliments suddenly became condescending. When I say “Let’s have a good year,” in Japanese, and he responds with over-the-top surprise at my ability to say anything whatsoever, it somehow doesn’t feel very flattering. When I show him a lesson plan and he exclaims “Wow, you made a lesson plan! So impressive!” I can only glare and think, “Did you expect me NOT to do my job?”
Even when I coldly stave off conversation with him, he still manages to annoy me with constant humming, murmuring to himself, and grunts of surprise at finding things on his desk. He never stops. Ever.
2. Snitches get stitches.
He sits next to me, so there’s no escaping him. When I come in the morning, he sees me. Once, I didn’t have class all day, so I decided to come in about 15 minutes late, as many ALTs are apt to do. Don’t you dare judge me, because unlike teachers everywhere else in the world, I still have to come to school during student holidays, and only get 4 weeks of personal leave that I have to spread across the year. Plus, I supervise English lunch, which means I am working an extra 45 minutes every day. No one gets hurt if I come in late every once in a while, and no one even notices.
Except for him.
He immediately runs to greet me. “Oh, you’re late today!”
I tense, “Yes... My train was late.” He nods at my excuse and leaves. A few minutes later he comes back.
“I’ve told the vice principal that you were late. Would you go speak to him for a minute?”
This guy was going out of his way to get me into trouble, and he barely even knew me! Thankfully, the vice principal bought my story and nothing ever came of it, but I never forgot the day Mr. Annoying betrayed me.
3. I don’t even know why I hate him.
You know those people who are lovable idiots? Well he’s an unlovable idiot. But, still being an idiot, something in me cringes at myself for being so rude to him. He’s clearly an enthusiastic, genuine person who loves his job and wants to interact with people around him. And yet, I want nothing more than to drown him in a urinal. I hate him all the more for the guilt I feel for hating him.
“Oh, Alex,” you sigh as you read this, chuckling to yourself. “You’re just fine! Just ignore him!” And with a boop to my nose, you think you’ve made everything better.
But I can’t ignore him. Every tired morning... every sweaty afternoon fanning myself beside the electric fan... every moment staring blankly at the wall behind the copier, wishing I didn’t have to teach classes, he’s there. When I miss my mom, or I don’t want to talk to anyone, there he is, ever and always demanding my time and energy.
In some ways, he really isn’t the problem. He’s the embodiment of feeling trapped and overwhelmed and homesick. But rather than face those feelings, I direct my rage at him, and rant about him to my friends, and write flaming blogs about him across my social media.
And you know what? It feels good to hate him.
