"I Prefer Blank Slates"

"My memory was never loaded with anything but blank cartridges."

-Mark Twain

New school years begin in April

in Japan,

meaning

I just got a batch of fresh students

who came from local elementary schools.

These students are shy as mice,

unsure of how to respond to my English.

But, when I tell them what to say,

they turn into jabbering chatter-monkeys

and we have a grand ol' time together.

You know,

when you work with people

for any period of time,

they kind of have a way

of spreading their roots

in the cockles of your wittle heart.

I give you

the English team

{I work with these ladies every week}:

Iikai: 7th graders

Nimi: 7th graders

Yoshimura: 7-8th graders

Minami: 8th graders

Tanaka: 9th graders

Sugita: 9th graders

And then,

Shioyama: The retired samurai music teacher.

He has a bit of belly,

but whenever a student gets too cocky,

he whips out an earth-shattering warrior cry

and we all kind of pee ourselves.

Anyways.

He isn't on the English team,

but we have a special bond, he and I;

I borrow his music room almost every day, you see.

And his passion for pianos is so wonderful.

Lastly,

the 8th grade math teacher.

Er... I can't remember his real name, but I call him "Secret Agent Man".

All the students are afraid of him

because his head is bald

because he teaches an icky subject

and because he has a death glare

that, together, with the retired samurai's war scream,

could blast us through the center of the Earth and out the bottom.

...

I exaggerate.

...

Kind of.

{Balloon via Steffilynn}
{Stopwatch via Papertissue}

{Samurai via Ed}

{Agent via George}