As soon as I walked in the office, before I could even reach my desk, one of my colleagues (let’s call her Natsumi) rushes at me in a panic.

“Loco-Sensei! Loco Sensei!!”

In three years working together I’d never seen her so upset, so it kinda freaked me out.

“What is it???”

“Eeeeeeto ne,” she said, taking a much-needed breath as she gave me a wide-eyed panicky look. Then, in a mixture of Japanese and broken English, she proceeded to convey what had her so stressed out. “There’s a new first-year student starting today!”

“OK,” I said patiently.

“He’s from Nepal…and he can’t speak Japanese!”

I almost laughed. Her being an English teacher and all. But her face assured me that this was in no way a laughing matter to her. So I swallowed my giggle and asked could he speak English.

“Yes, but my English is terrible! What am I going–”

“You sure he can’t speak any Japanese?”

“None at all.”

“Well, don’t worry, I got your back.”

She didn’t look relived in the slightest. Of course she was going to be in many situations with this kid when I wouldn’t be around to help translate. Especially since he was in her home room. So I wondered why she’d come to me at all.

“How can I help?”

As she pondered that question –apparently she hadn’t before I’d walked in– her panic began to sink into a deep funk. Her eyes lowered and her head tipped over.

The school hadn’t had a true foreigner in a couple of years. There were a number of “biracial” students but they were all fluent in Japanese and, aside from their skin color or other distinguishing features, were treated in most cases as Japanese as the others.

“Chin up!” I told her. “It’s just a boy.”

*****

Come fourth period, I was teaching a class with Natsumi. I’d arrived just as the bell was ringing and was expecting him to be in the class, but all I saw were familiar faces.

“Where is he?” I asked her.

“He’s next door…” she said, and gestured for me to follow her into the hallway. In the hallway standing in front of the open door to the next classroom were several teachers, and I was suddenly struck with the strong desire to NOT be a part of this.

Natsumi grabbed me by the arm when she noticed I’d stopped just before stepping into view of the students in the next classroom, oblivious as to why. There were student stragglers arriving after the bell had tolled and they were watching this, as were the students in the class I was due to teach. No one looked surprised or put-off by this odd behavior. Everyone seemed to understand that all this extracurricular activity was to be expected.

“Look, look, look!! There he is!” she said, pointing, conspicuously, arm and finger fully extended, eyes bulging a bit.

I’d always liked Natsumi…until that moment.

“We have a class to teach…” I said, with a mild reprimand in my voice, a voice I’d never used on her before.

“Did you see him??”

“No.”

“He’s in the back! Come here!” She tugged me and my resistance gave a little. But only a little. Not enough for her diminutive self to budge me. This time she took note. I looked from her to the other two teachers, staring through the back door of the class. From where I stood I could see half the class, most of which were either looking at us in the hall or at the back of the class. I could also see the teacher up front, going about his business.

I felt so, I dunno, disgusted, and kinda sorry for this kid I hadn’t seen yet.

After the class another 1st year English teacher (let’s call her Yoko) runs up to me.

“Have you met him, yet?”

“Met who?” I asked, already tiring of this foolishness.

“The boy from Nepal!”

“No,” I said. “Why?”

“He doesn’t speak Japanese…only English.”

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No!” Yoko snapped like I’d asked her had she ever fucked a horse.

I just smiled, turned and walked smack into a group of my students semi-surrounding a brown-skinned kid. Half of them were looking at me, clearly aware that this would be the moment of truth!

*****

“Hi!” I said.

“Hi” he said. Dark straight hair hung low on his forehead, black eyes, ferret smile. He looked slightly Asian, slightly Indian to me. What did I know about Nepal I thought at that moment. I know it’s somewhere between India and China. I know Mt. Everest and Kathmandu are there somewhere. That was about it. “What’s your name?”

“Michael,” something or other, he replied. I couldn’t catch the last name and I didn’t want to make him repeat it. I just knew it didn’t match Michael at all.

“How long have you been in Japan?”

“A few months,” he said –I think– in heavily accented English, almost incomprehensible, like a Pakistani taxi driver in New York, with marbles in his mouth.

“Can you speak any Japanese, yet?”

“A little,” he replied.

Every Japanese eye in the vicinity, student and faculty, was held in rapture at our every utterance, whispers of “sugoi” (great) and “kakkoii” (cool) along with other commentary were circulating madly. It’s a given that most of the students had never seen two foreigners converse before.

“How do you like Japan so far?”

He looked around at a dozen gawking strangers, smiled, twisting his mouth slightly revealing a very subtle annoyance, and shrugged.

He spoke fluent body language.

“Well, welcome to Japan,” I said and shook his hand. “I’m…”

Loco