So, it was just an ordinary Friday in Spanish class in Buenos Aires. My teacher and I were discussing international relations post World War II, and because of my background studying and living the culture of Japan, I was asked about what Japan’s relationship is with the rest of Asia. Of course I had to say that Japan doesn’t tend to do so well when it comes to its relationships with China and Korea, to say the least. Japanese nationalism reared its ugly head before and during the second World War with its desire to expand its territory, and to that end committed some horrendous war crimes, in my opinion rivalling the brutality of the Nazis. I have a lot to say about them and the atrocious attitude politicians in Japan maintain regarding the nation’s less than savoury history with much of Asia. So, as part of my homework for the weekend, I was asked to write an essay detailing the international relations disaster that is the Japanese government’s method of dealing with past war crimes. I was thrilled.
It was a great topic, and although the language involved was quite difficult for me to work with after only three months of Spanish classes, I was passionate about the topic enough that somehow I struggled through and completed the paper by late Sunday night. I was confident that my teacher would be happy with my work. So, it was with a spring in my step that I walked to Spanish school on Monday morning, still running through my head the vocabulary of the essay, just in case I was drilled on it during class.
I enter the classroom and see not my teacher… but another!
In El Pasaje Spanish school, you are not necessarily guaranteed the same instructor from week to week. This can be very good as different instructors bring with them different teaching styles, personalities and Spanish usage, but it can be a bit of a surprise come Monday morning!
“So, what homework did you do over the weekend?” my new teacher asked, in Spanish of course. All lessons at my school are taught in Spanish, even from the get-go.
I handed over my homework a little sheepishly as it suddenly sunk in how odd it would be to see the content of my essay without context.
I mentioned the essay title to test the waters, and Teacher B raised an eyebrow as he took it but said nothing. Starting to feel a little awkward, I told him it was a homework task set by Teacher A, so perhaps it might be better if he corrected that particular piece. Teacher B tells me he’ll let Teacher A know. Class continues as usual.
The next day, I received my corrected essay back from Teacher B. Apparently my instructors had tossed a coin to see who would correct my piece, and Teacher B had won the flip. I looked through my corrections and discussed the theme a little with Teacher B. Then my feedback:
“The essay was overall very good, but I have to ask: why on earth did you choose that topic to write about?!”
Her hum. It was a good question! I feebly flustered through an attempt to untarnish my war crime-fancying butt by pointing out that it was Teacher A who had requested the essay, but I’m sure it was still a bit of a shock to the system for Teacher B to spend his Monday evening reading about atrocities in-between the other essays about the weekend, about the weather, about Buenos Aires. I feel for him!
The moral of this story? Japanese war crimes are probably not the best topic to write about over the weekend.