The Language Teacher
01 - 2001
From Shizuoka with Love
Shaun Gates
Shiga Women's Junior College
Tanaka stepped silently out of the lift into the darkened corridor. The security guard would be back in 5 minutes. Gliding quickly down the darkened corridor more by memory than sight, Tanaka found the room and peered through the small, reinforced glass square set into the heavy metal door. The laboratory would have been pitch black but for the luminous glow from the master console. It would take less than twenty seconds to pick up the file and get back to Harry's bar.
Tanaka put a shoulder to the door and pushed. Imperceptibly it began to move on well-oiled hinges. Tanaka shoved harder to build up momentum then slipped into the laboratory pausing to note the chilled air and the rows of idle monitors. They looked even more sinister than when they were fully operational. The file lay nonchalantly discarded on the console. Tanaka stretched out a hand. Then the room burst into light as if a thousand chandeliers had been switched on.
A large man with bouffant hair and a feminine mouth appeared from nowhere. He cradled a white cat that looked at Tanaka as if she were a rather slow mouse.
"Good evening, Miss Tanaka. We've been expecting you."
Keiko knew it was a lie. She had an erratic attendance record. No one knew when she'd show up next for a lesson.
"It was very careless of you to leave your file behind last week. Particularly as it was covered with your seal photos and your name written inside a series of day-glo hearts."
"Blowdry. Earnest Blowdry. Head of SPECtrE. The Society for Pushing English Communicative Teaching onto Reluctant English Students. Pairwork, games, projects, role play. A web of human misery with all the strands pulled from here."
The lips twisted themselves into a polar smile. Elegant fingers stroked the Hello Kitty.
"I see you are well informed Miss Tanaka. But then that is to be expected from . . . ," Blowdry's eyes slid down the class register, ". . . 9901007."
Keiko's right hand inched towards the left side of her jacket tailored by Uni & Clough. She could feel the reassuring weight of the Biretta.
" I don't think that would be a very good idea, do you?"
The florid face was looking at the cat, but one hand had detached itself from the feline and was now hovering over the console.
"Please put your Italian bag on the desk and sit down."
Keiko slowly took the bag off her shoulder. As she turned momentarily away from Blowdry, a blind spot was created. Her right hand dipped into the open top and palmed the portable phone.
"A drink, Miss Tanaka? Peach fizz cola. Shaken not stirred. Perhaps not shaken."
Keiko ignored the offer. She flicked the ON switch.
"What do you want me to do Blowdry?"
"Do, Miss Tanaka? I don't want you to do anything, my dear, except sit here while I enter your name in the register."
A plump finger dropped towards an unseen button. The monitor in front of Keiko made a dull thunk and a blue screen flickered into life.
"You're insane, Blowdry. You'll never achieve full attendance."
"Admirably perceptive, Miss Tanaka, but then I don't need to. Seventy percent attendance and I can pass you. No make-up lessons, no re-sits, no reports. Then it's six weeks on a beach in Thailand while you sweat out the holiday working in a convenience store."
She thumbed the first two digits.
"And now I am afraid that our little talk must come to an end. I have some odd jobs to attend to with Eikaiwa II."
The finger jabbed down again and a whirring noise started. Keiko pressed the next two digits. Were they the right ones?
"I've programmed in 40 minutes of pronunciation drills on l/r minimal pairs. Goodbye Miss Tanaka. I doubt we'll be meeting again."
The final digit. For a split second nothing -- then the 1812 Overture rang out in tinny notes. Hello Kitty dug its claws into Blowdry's arms and sprang onto the floor, back arched. Blowdry twisted round in agony, stumbling over a pile of textbooks. Keiko grabbed the file, booted the cat, and was out of the language lab before the last chime died. As she ran down the corridor she turned to see Blowdry's face squashed up against the square window in horror. Through the metal doors the speakers boomed out,
"Red alert"
"Lead alert"
"Red alert"
"Lead alert . . ."
Shaun Gates is an assistant professor at Shiga Women's Junior College, where he gives practical courses in English Soliloquy. He is also responsible for coordinating his tie with his shirt on the "Spurious Academic" programme. He has taught widely in Europe and the Middle East, a reflection of his fickle character. He has an MA in Applied Linguistics somewhere at the bottom of a drawer. His research focuses on how Japanese students interact in L2 classrooms when distracted by English. His next book will be Endurance by Alfred Lansing.
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