I wasn’t at all prepared for what would happen yesterday.
As far as I was aware, it was a Monday like any other. It’s certainly not my favorite day of the week–not necessarily because it’s Monday, but because it’s the day that I teach the 6th graders. They’re in that “We’re too good for English” phase which makes teaching them a little more challenging. Even though they enjoy the games, I feel like most of them haven’t warmed up to me compared to the younger kids.
So today I wanted to be a little more energetic. Sure, they might’ve thought that I was weirder than they already think I am, but I didn’t care. Anything that would make them be more alert and responsive.
The first three classes went well. The kids had fun and I was glad. By the end of my third class–which was after lunch–I wasn’t feeling very good.
I occasionally have stomach problems at work, after lunchtime. It would be a sharp pain in my stomach, and I’d end up in the bathroom for at least 10 minutes, if my class schedule allowed. I tried to counter it by eating more slowly, chewing my food more, and occasionally skipping the carton of milk that’s served to us every single day (because I thought it may be related to lactose intolerance).
After I started doing that, the stomachaches occurred less frequently. Sometimes it worked, but sometimes it didn’t.
And then there was yesterday. It was a normal school Japanese school lunch, not one that I hadn’t eaten before: white rice, steamed broccoli and crab meat, and a stew of beef, konyaku, quail eggs, and other things (I know it sounds strange, but it really is a typical menu here).
I noticed discomfort almost immediately after I finished eating, but I figured that the pain would go away if I just focused on class. But near the end of 5th period, my stomach was hurting, and as soon as we finished I left and dashed to the staff room to put my stuff down before rushing to the bathroom.
I could only stay in there for 10 minutes though, because I had my last class for 6th period. Once again, I told myself that if I just ignored my stomach pain, maybe it’ll go away.
We weren’t even halfway through the class when I started feeling really hot, as if I had a fever. My face felt weak but I tried as best as I could to hide it. I rushed our pronunciation practice, told them to practice on their own, and then told their teacher that I wasn’t feeling well. She rushed me out of the room and I ran to the nearby sink and leaned over it because I knew what was coming–I threw up.
Despite that, I wanted to continue class, but I knew the teacher wouldn’t let me even if I asked. I went to the health room, told the nurse what happened, and she led me to a bed and told me to lay down. As I lay there, I wondered what that 6th grade class must’ve been thinking, and what their teacher might have told them to do. I felt bad that they couldn’t play the game I had planned for them. I was blaming myself for causing such a burden, and blaming myself for these continuous stomach problems.
(Click here for Part 2)