Barriers

Chapter 1

My alarm clock cries in spaced out beeps. Yes I'm the weirdo who still has an alarm clock. Most people have resorted to using their phones, but this is much better for me. I can't lose track of time even for a second. I crack one eye open and turn to face the clock. The time reads 6am. I start work at 8. I snooze it for half an hour. If I get up at 6:30 then I have an hour and a half to get ready. I sleep. My alarm clock cries out again and I repeat the pattern of irresponsible action and rational I did before. Finally after I wake up at 7, I sit myself up, and grab my phone.

I live in Japan. Tokyo, Japan. I am an American but hearing of cousins and friends of friends going out and living in other countries to teach English pushed my millennial brain into thinking I've earned the same care free life experience. Today is my first day teaching. I'm 22. I scroll through news feeds and live updates, reading up on what's happened at home. It's always nothing, but I always check it in the morning. I lock my phone and check the alarm clock by my bed.

"Shit!" Its almost 7:30 already! I stand up and quickly walk across my studio apartment towards the small bathroom. The floor is covered in dirty laundry and the occasional piece of trash that missed the bin. The bin is full and I haven't had the time to take it out. That's what I tell myself. I rush in the shower being sure to scrub myself as efficiently as possible. I dry off with similar speed, but the wicked humidity on this country is unforgiving and prevents me from drying as easily as I would back home. Arizona is a desert, after all, and has no moisture in the air to keep my damp after a shower. I brush my teeth and as I space out into my reflection, I have one of those moments. Have you ever looked at your reflection and it just doesn't look like you? Brown hair, green eyes, a nose that has a rounded tip with slightly upturned nostrils. Yup that's me, but it doesn't feel like me. Whatever. I spit and rinse out my mouth.

I go back out to my room and in a wardrobe by the entrance hangs my clothes for today. A very simple and timeless look. A white button down, black slacks, dress shoes, and a blue tie. I dress as fast as I can, and slip on my already-tied shoes. I leave all my shoes tied because it's faster if I'm ever running late to anything. You see, I have a knack for telling myself I can get ready in thirty minutes, but never in the history of my life have I gotten ready in thirty minutes. I step out of my apartment and lock the door behind me.

Walking to the station I have my headphones in. Alternative Rock blasts loud and I'm convinced that other passersby can hear the song just as clearly as I do. I turn the volume down on the train to be a bit more respectful to others. I arrive at my stop and get off. As I do I check the time. It's 7:57. "Son of a bitch." I start running to the office. I had only been there once before, on my first day in Japan. My boss had picked me up and gave me a small tour of the city. As I run my phone shuffles awkwardly in my pocket making me do some sort of weird hybrid of walking and jogging. I finally take it out and grip it tightly so that it doesn't fly loosely in my hand.

Running down the main city street I see the building on my right. On the building hangs the sign Washington Academy. The school teaches to mainly adults, but we also do tutoring for kids after school. If people have the money to be here, they can be here. I enter the building and start running up the staircase right in front of me. I am dying. When's the last time I ran this much? I feel the sweat dampening my clothes. Here it is, the third floor. I check the clock on my phone one last time before entering the workspace. 8:01 am, not bad. I'm basically on time. Being one minute late can be attributed to anything, really.

I enter the office and am greeted by Mr. Jackson,my boss, and an Australian with a heavy accent. I'm glad he leaves the teaching to us. If he had any students of his own they'd be incomprehensible. A hybrid of a Japanese and Australian accent makes me stressed just thinking about trying to understand someone with it. "Morning, Mike!" He exclaims, he approaches me and extends his arm for a hand shake.

I grab his hand and as usual, I squeeze with the wrong amount of force. I never know the right time for a firm or casual handshake. "Please, just Michael is fine."

"Not a fan of nicknames, I see. Well, you'll be in classroom C today. You have lessons 10 to 11, 2 to 3, and 4 to 5. In the meantime I'll have you help me with some administrative work." He speaks with confidence, but I remember even from my interview, he was a very friendly man.

When he asked me my strengths related to the job, I told him that I can read people. I can tell what they want or what they don't understand. It got me the job. And I can tell you right now that Mr. Jackson would love a bad pun. "Sounds like a good day to me. And like I said, my name is Michael, please don't name me Nick."

Mr Jackson cringed and after about a second or two started to chuckle while shaking his head. "Oh that is bad. I ought to fire you for that." We both laugh and after a moment he begins a tour around the office. It's my first time inside since my interview was all online. There are 4 classrooms with 10-20 desks, a small library with books of various difficulties of English, staff offices and break lounge, and a student entrance and reception area.

All the staff here is incredibly friendly. Today is going to be a good day.