It’s So Pretty
I really don’t like one of the teachers I sit next to in the teachers’ room. For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why, but then it finally hit me – he is completely enamored with the sound of his own voice.
He is always talking. Always. If the conversation doesn’t involve him, he’ll butt in. If he can’t do that, then he’ll talk to himself. If he has nothing better to say, then he’ll sing. Or just make sounds. Really, there is no point during the day at which sound is not coming from his mouth.
Not to mention, he’s always on the school’s PA system. It’s like his personal toy at this point. Half the time he’s announcing things that aren’t even important. When there is something to be shared, he’s the first to get up and say, “Shall we communicate it?” I can hear giddiness in his voice as he frolics to the machine. When he’s on it, it’s just pure joy. I can almost hear him thinking, “I like this wonderful machine because it makes my pretty voice big, so that all may hear.”
I like to imagine that on the weekends, he drives up to the mountains, sets up a chair, and just has a conversation with himself using the echoes.
There’s another teacher at that school who also loves his own voice and is always talking. Once he gets started, it’s damn near impossible to shut him up. To say he dominates the morning meeting is a bit of an understatement. Interestingly enough these two guys sit across from each other. Now, you’d probably think this would bring about The Apocalypse, but amazingly it creates a balance. They start talking to each other, but then they both get tired of waiting for the other person to finish so they can hear their own voices, so they give up and go back to talking to themselves.
The first guy is still the champ, though. Last week there was a music performance in the gym. As the concert ended and the students began to leave, I saw this guy giving out directions… with a bullhorn. I couldn’t believe it! Allow me to explain just why this was so ludicrous.
1. The gym isn’t that big. There are only about 330 students. Speaking loudly is enough to elevate your voice above the murmur.
2. He didn’t say much into the bullhorn.
3. What he did say everyone already knew. The sannensei leave first. Of course they leave first! They always leave first! I don’t think there’s been a day in the history of Japanese Jr. High Schools in which the sannensei didn’t leave first.
So when I saw him in particular holding the bullhorn, well, it amused me greatly, and I couldn’t explain to anyone why. I bet that wasn’t even the school’s bullhorn. It was probably his own personal bullhorn he brought from home.
As I was leaving school for the day, I saw him again outside with the tennis club, randomly barking orders into the bullhorn. Of course. Because it’s a wonderful machine that makes his pretty voice big.
I don’t think he even knows how to play tennis.