Overheard in the teachers' room

(I hesitated to write this, because it sounds so much like everything else I write and everything the embittered foreigners who stay in Japan write. In the end, I decided to go forward with it, if only to remind myself why I'm leaving. It's like writing a note to yourself when you're really hung over because you know you shouldn't drink like that again, but without a reminder you'll just go out and do it again the next weekend. Not that I've ever done that, but let's just say I had a friend... Anyway, in case I start missing Japan once I leave, this will stand as a reminder that I should not come back.)

At the end of the work day today, I sat staring into space since I had been staring at a computer screen all day making a presentation for next week. An unfamiliar voice beckoned from behind.

"Matchamonkey-san tte..." Matchamonkey...

I waited for the unfamiliar teacher to ask his question. Though he had never so much as said hello to me before, he seemed intent on the question he was about to ask. He hesitated, and for a brief moment, I foolishly became exited about the conversation we were about to have. Was he going to ask me about my presentation, having seen my beautiful power point on the screen all day? Or maybe he was going to ask me about my thoughts on US-Japan relations? Or the World Cup...? His hesitation only drew me in further.

"Demo kani ha dame desu ne." But you can't eat crab. He seemed to have answered his own question.

At this point, I took a moment to take stock of what was going on. This was the conclusion I reached:
1. A conversation is occurring.
2. I appear to be part of this conversation.
3. Based on my limited knowledge of Japanese, this conversation is about crabs.
4. There are no crabs in the immediate vicinity and there is no logical reason why this conversation should be about crabs.
5. Therefore, I have no idea what is going on.
Having reached this conclusion, I looked confusedly back at the teacher.

"You know, kani." He held two fingers up on each hand and moved them like pincers. Unfortunately, this made things more ambiguous, as he was striking the exact pose that most Japanese people make when having their picture taken. I started to think that he was saying that this pose was dame (not allowed) for Americans.

"You know, kani and shrimp, you can't eat them, can you?"

"I wouldn't say I can't eat them, but they're not my favorite..." I absolutely hate it when people assume they know what I can and cannot eat based on the color of my skin. I mean, I may not be into shrimp, but pretty much all of my white friends are. It's not a race thing.

"Then why do you have that on your computer?" At last, the source of this conversation was revealed. I had a drawing of sushi as my wallpaper (from the lovely www.pixelgirlpresents.com). The drawing did not feature any crab, by the way. "Why do you look at that picture if you do not like crab or shrimp?"

"Well I like sushi. I really like that one, for example," I said pointing to the salmon. "And besides, it's a pretty picture."

"You had sushi for the first time after coming to Japan...?"

"No actually, I also ate it in America." I've had this exact conversation so many times that the consumption of sushi is about the only topic I am conversant in in Japanese.

"Ah, over there too," he said, nodding.

He stared at me for another minute and I smiled awkwardly. Finally, he excused himself for bothering me and went back to his work.