My wife and many of her friends are into organic foods and various alternative diets. Yesterday, I was reassured that our greens were organic as I found a very tiny caterpillar living in them. I discarded that leaf, briefly pondered how many of his buddies might have been in the previous bites, and moved on – carefully. I always get a creepy feeling when I find bugs in my food, but it doesn’t stop me from eating.
Yesterday I posted about my out of control class on another forum. My heart goes out to the homeroom teacher dealing with a plentiful collection of odd and disruptive characters. At least a dozen of the students are constantly talking, throwing, hitting, sleeping, or otherwise acting out. When there are two or three in a class it is usually easy to rein things in without much delay; yet, these numbers are overwhelming.
Perhaps the most amusing (or possibly disgusting) distraction yesterday was the nose-picker. For background, digging in one’s nose doesn’t seem to carry much negative stigma in Japan. Not once have I seen a teacher make any attempt to stop a student from researching their nasal passages. Typically, there doesn’t seem to be any teasing from other students, as I would expect in America. When I was a kid, I didn’t need a teacher to correct any nose-picking, we knew we would be harrassed mercilessly by our ‘fellow’ students, so – barring an urgent problem – we kept our fingers clear of the center of our faces.
Dextrous would be a good word to describe this student. He was swiftly delving deep into his nostrils in almost perfect alternation and sucking thoroughly on the results of each strike. Simultaneously he seemed to be savoring his finger, yet also moving rapidly onto his next expedition. This contradiction was as fascinating as the process was repulsive. I gave him many gestures signalling him to cease his action. He seemed fully aware of the meaning of my signs, but oblivious to what I might be directing them. Once he even looked around with finger ensconced, to determine if I might be upset with the student behind him.
Baffled by how his neighbors took no notice and how he continued to jabber on as if he had two brains controlling these separate activities, I gave up on any attempt to stop him, so I could focus on our lesson. His activity stopped abruptly about five minutes later, leaving me amazed that he could maintain that furious activity for so long without injury.
Needless to say: I wash my hands after every class.