Title of Story 2 |
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A Time that I Dreaded Going to School In the late 1970's, problematic behavior of students such as bullying, violence, and juvenile delinquency had been increasing all over Japan. My junior high school located in downtown Tokyo did not escape this wave of school violence. Not only were some quiet students bullied by hoods and had money extorted from them, but also impotent teachers who couldn't lead students were assaulted by gangs of students, and classes were obstructed by juvenile delinquents. I was becoming sickened by the daily disturbances. Even my club activity, the school band, was frequently dismissed because of the rampage of student gangs. Moreover, the school library was locked all the time to exclude the gangs, and even school lunches were scarce because the gangs robbed books and food at random. First, I didn't love my school and then I lost any possible pride in it when I saw the low scores of the school as compared to those in the country. That made me even more depressed and ashamed. I hated the teachers who didn't have the ability to handle these students and gangs. I complained about the anarchy in my school and the teachers' lack of ability to handle the situation. My parents scolded me instead of supporting me because they were old fashioned and believed all teachers were respectable. Naturally, if I'd desired to transfer to another school, my wish would never be taken seriously because of my parents' lack of concern for what was happening in my school. Thus, during those times, I dreaded going to school. One morning, I arrived at school and entered the gate the same as usual. The next moment, I saw an unbelievable sight. A male student gang was fighting and punching out the teachers in the entrance hall. The sight looked like a political rebellion. Loud shouts and crashing noises filled the entrance hall. I was shocked standing at the door way with the other students, who had just arrived. My knees started shaking seeing blood everywhere. Soon, several teachers came to us for protection, and we went through the unruly tumultuous hall to reach our classrooms. In our classrooms, there was a different kind of anarchy. My classmates and I had had nothing to do with the uprising, yet we were just killing time until our teachers gave us directions. Though a few students and I were reading novels or textbooks, other girls were talking about this trouble loudly and delightfully and the boys were laughing and walking around because all the classes had been dismissed as no teachers showed up in the classrooms. Shortly, the police came and a gang leader was arrested for inciting the riot. My school was closed for three days. I still dreaded going to school because fighting and bullying among students still occurred on a daily basis although such cases of violence against teachers never occurred again. In addition, I heard that some cowardly teachers escaped from the school leaving behind their students and co-workers. My favorite female teacher was forced to kneel and bow until her forehead touched the floor for silly reasons by girls of gangs during the riot. I felt a distrust of the escaped teachers and sorry for the female teacher forced to do such a demeaning act. There is more to this story. Soon after starting to work for a publisher, I met a journalist who had gathered information and written stories about my junior high school for a major newspaper for three or four months. Of course, the school wanted to stay out of the media, so she had to interview neighbors and students of the school and observe the school from afar. I told her what had happened inside the school as well as anecdotes that were related to the school violence. She was so surprised and excited about my intimate stories yet mortified that she hadn't known such details when she was writing the articles. If I'd had the ability when I was a junior high school student, I could have written and contributed about my school to a newspaper. February 23, 2005 "Writing Journal" |
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