Posts Tagged ‘awkward silences’

Lift Your Voice

Tuesday, January 8th, 2008


Where I taught in Japan, classes came in two forms: normal classroom lessons or the Voice room.

 

In theory, Voice should have been a nice break from the monotony of the classroom, but it became the bane of my life.

 

It’s a big room with comfy seating, a white board and a few tables. It’s designed to be a place where students can have ‘free’, ‘natural’, ‘open’ discussions on topics of their choice. The irony is that it was always the most forced, unnatural conversation you could ever have.

 

Firstly, let’s refer back to the ‘comfy’ seating I mentioned. Whoever designed furniture for these rooms must have forgotten that western people are taller, have hips and generally speaking, weigh more than an Olsen*. I’d spend the majority of the forty minute class shifting around in my seat trying to figure out how I could get both my ass cheeks on there at the same time. And my ass ain’t that big!

 

Now let’s get down to the nitty gritty of Voice: The chit-chat.

 

The whole point is for the students to practice their English in a relaxed environment. At some schools, there’d be a crowd of students who were Voice regulars and had no problem chinwagging among themselves. Those sessions were a blast. You just sat back and observed. But my school was full of shy students who wouldn’t utter a word unless prompted. To say it was like getting blood from a stone would be an understatement.

 

Then of course, during your orientation training, you’re given a list of topics you’re not allowed to touch in Voice: the war (apparently Japan’s still a little touchy about it), sex, drugs, blah blah, the usual. So basically, anything interesting is out of bounds.

 

I tried a variety of approaches to Voice; going in prepared, going in completely unprepared, playing games and the majority of the time, failed miserably. I just couldn’t get these people to talk without having to constantly prompt them with questions.

 

Plus the whole culture in Japan doesn’t lend itself to free and easy discussion. They’re all so concerned about hierarchy, respect, weird dynamics between men and women – the whole thing is just uncomfortable.

 

A friend of mine, Jay, who taught at another school, told me of a great Voice session he did once. He went in the room and wrote ‘why?’ on the board. The students looked bemused. He told them to discuss and he didn’t say a word for the remainder of the forty-minute class. After a few awkward moments, they began to debate the ‘why?’ as Jay sat there looking on. Minute 35, he asked them for their answers and they’d come up with pretty impressive ones. On minute 39, Jay said ‘no, the answer is ‘why not?’’ Minute 40, the bell rang and he was outta there. After this, I hailed Jay as my new God. I wanted to try it out, but I just didn’t have the balls. I knew that my lot wouldn’t take the bait and I couldn’t bear forty-minutes of silence and their blank stares as I shifted around trying to get my ass in the chair.

 

And thus, every Voice class turned into a discussion about travel or hobbies. And even though the students were meant to interact with each other, they never did, leaving me to fill in the awkward silences with lame questions about their trip to Hawaii or love of tennis. At times it was very difficult not to scream ‘I can speak English motherf**kers! You talk, damn you! YOU TALK!!’

 

After a year of this, I’d rather stab myself in the neck with a pencil than have one more discussion about vacations or sports.

 

But there were two characters who were the saving graces of my Voice woes:

 

Mr Miyagi: OK, that’s not his real name, but he was the Miyagi to my Karate Kid. Oh Wise One. And he even had Bonsai trees! Every Wednesday afternoon, he’d come for two Voice lessons before going home to dinner with his wife. He was a small man, bald, late sixties/early seventies and he was delightful. Usually he was the only person there and he could talk your ear off. He was a fountain of all knowledge and he taught me far more than I ever did him. I always looked forward to Wednesdays and seeing him. It was a relief to talk to someone so open and honestly and every week, I learned something from him.

 

Wax on, Wax off Mr Miyagi – I truly do miss you.

 

And then there was Mr Misery: Ahhh, the Japanese George Clooney. He had salt and pepper hair, wore pastel colors, had his shirt collar popped, his sweater tied over shoulders and always teamed it with chinos and deck shoes. He was straight out of a catalogue. Super-suave and utterly miserable, he was completely indifferent to everyone in the room. I don’t know what he was so pissed off about, but I found him unbelievably sexy. It became my life’s mission to make him smile. During that mission, I discovered that aside from being devilishly handsome, he was also verging on being interesting. And I’m sure he didn’t realize this, but I actually made him smile six times during the course of the year. He smirked a lot of times and I got two big laughs out of him. When I told him I was leaving, he looked sad. Given, he looked like that most of the time, but I like to think I had a little something to do with it.

 

So, in my assimilation back into the western world, I have marveled at people coming together in one room, with comfy seating that your ass can fit on, discussing a plethora of topics, sometimes sans awkward silences and the urge to stab myself in the neck with a pencil has all but disappeared.

 

.* An Olsen – a unit of weight measurement based on the assumption that one Olsen twin = roughly 75 pounds.

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My Most Embarrassing Moment

Wednesday, December 5th, 2007


And there’ve been many, but I outdid myself with this one.

 

Back in England, fresh from living in New York, I’d been catching up on all the girly gossip with my friend, B. She told me that a good friend of hers, E, who we’d gone to sixth form with, was pregnant. Or at least, that’s what I thought she’d told me.

 

A couple of days later, I was at my friend Sim Simma’s surprise birthday party. My best friend was there, along with my newly born godson. I was holding the lil’ fella while everyone in sight cooed over him. B’s friend E was also at the party and came over to greet the newborn.

 

She was there with her boyfriend and looked about seven months pregnant. As I only know E in passing, I have very little to talk to her about. So, (very stupidly, on reflection) I decided to kick off a convo with the information B had given me.

 

“Hey, congrats, B told me you were pregnant,” I say, nodding towards her protruding belly.

 

“No I’m not,” she said smiling.

 

I laughed, thinking she was joking, as it was so obvious she was with child. No one else at the table said anything. E stood there, shaking her head. Was it meant to be a secret or something? As what seemed like minutes of painfully awkward silence passed, I realized she really wasn’t pregnant. She’d just put on a load of weight.

 

Oh Jesus.

 

Eventually, someone broke the silence and struck up a conversation with E to distract her from my hugely offensive comment.

 

I sat there for a few minutes, cradling the baby, mentally kicking myself for that biggest of faux pas. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

 

I handed the baby back to my best friend and signaled to my Mum that it was time to go. We walked down the stairs in silence and out the door. I checked behind us to make sure no one was there.

 

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh my GOD!” I muttered burying my face in my hands.

 

“It’s alright,” Mama said, giving me a pat on the back.

 

“Was that as bad as it sounded?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Get in the car.”

 

As soon as we drove away from the scene of the crime, my cell phone rang. It was B.

 

‘I never told you E was pregnant!” She screeched.

 

“You did, I swear you did! Why would I say that if you didn’t tell me that?!”

 

“No – I didn’t say she’s pregnant, I said she’s getting married!”

 

I paused for a moment.

 

“Is she getting married because she’s pregnant? Because she looks pretty damn pregnant.”

 

The moral of the story is: never ask someone if they’re up the duff unless you actually see them crowning.

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