stalled on a full tank

VS.

this is pretty embarrassing, but in the interests of accurately portraying my life and job here, this story must be told. the events which follow really happened, about five minutes ago. here we go.

there are two designated teachers bathrooms, one for each sex, right outside of the staff room at any given school. teachers use these rooms and never any others, and now I finally understand why. the men's room is replete with three urinals and two stalls, enough to handle everyone's needs. the problem is that the two stalls at this particular school contain only traditional japanese 'squat' toilets, which for reasons of comfort I still avoid using at all costs. so when the forces of nature called today, I was forced to venture into the untamed wilds of the students' bathrooms in search of a proper seat.

aware that the school day had just ended and the kids were now roaming free, I slipped from the staff room and tread down the hall, every sense simultaneously straining, searching for the slightest shuffling sound or surreptitious signal of a stealthy student. detecting a small group of second years crowded around their own bathroom on the main floor, I turned the corner and padded down the stairs to the first year level. hallelujah, the coast looked clear all the way in.

but alas! I entered to find a lone first year washing up inside the bathroom. this kid and I have a relatively familiar and amiable relationship, so I hoped that he would let this particular sighting of Ken-sensei slip by, and instead just run along to join his pals. but of course, that's just not how these things work.

after asking him if there was a light over the stalls, which he promptly turned on for me (why, thanks friend!), I took my seat as I heard his footfalls retreat down the quiet hall outside. a minute or so passed. such a peaceful, contemplative minute. "I wonder if Spring really is here?", I thought. "I can't wait to see those cherry blossoms for the first time".

suddenly I was jerked from my reverie by what sounded like a small army of plastic sandals in the distance. soon the very ground seemed to pound rapidly, and my heart moved to keep the beat as the steps and giddy chatter grew louder. then a cresting wave of sound exploded into the room, with shouts of "KEN SENSEI!" and "OH! MR. KEN!!" echoing and re-echoing like bullets off the tile walls, followed by what seemed like hundreds of swift hands knocking on the door of my cramped stall.

next, the true siege began. in mounting despair I watched small, powerful fingers curl over the top of the stall walls moments before their owners' heads followed, beaming down at me, pointing and laughing and wrestling with each other for a viewing spot as I sat helpless below, waving my arms over my head and commanding (begging) them to "DA-ME! DAME!! (STOP!/NO!/BAD!/HAVE YOU NO MERCY?)" but it only seemed to fuel their frenzied excitement.

finally I stood up with a bellow of warning, making them drop off the top, and cleaned up shop as quickly and carefully as I could, knowing the stall was about to be submitted to a thorough inspection by everyone present. I took a deep calming breath as they flicked the lights on and off (a tactic designed to force me into the open?), then emerged, ducking through the doorframe. my exit elicited an enthusiastic cheer from a small troupe of no fewer than fifteen boys who now stood around me, lining the small bathroom in a primal sort of chanting ring. shaking my head, I strode to the sink with as much dignity as I could muster and began to wash my hands, ignoring the questions being thrown at me from all directions in less-than-formal Japanese, "are you alright?" "did you eat vegetables?" "is that how americans do it?"

desperately trying to salvage the end of this situation by making it an educational opportunity, I told them I would only speak in English whilst in the bathroom. the question they ended up forming was "Ken-sensei, why didn't you use the teacher's bathroom?". all in all pretty reasonable, considering no teacher ever has or will use a student toilet.

returning upstairs with the remaining contingent following close behind, led by the boy I had once considered my friend, I tried to explain that I had some difficulty using the low toilets, which we don't have back in America, and prefer to sit. needless to say, I now agree with my young pupil's suggestion that I try and adapt to this last of Japanese traditions, because I hope to never in all my days return and sit again on that cold, porcelain throne of shame.